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1.5 MiB
26861 lines
1.5 MiB
Title: Mein Kampf
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Author: Adolf Hitler (1889-1945)
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Translated into English by James Murphy (died 1946).
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INTRODUCTION
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VOLUME I: A RETROSPECT
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CHAPTER I IN THE HOME OF MY PARENTS
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CHAPTER II YEARS OF STUDY AND SUFFERING IN VIENNA
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CHAPTER III POLITICAL REFLECTIONS ARISING OUT OF MY SOJOURN IN VIENNA
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CHAPTER IV MUNICH
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CHAPTER V THE WORLD WAR
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CHAPTER VI WAR PROPAGANDA
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CHAPTER VII THE REVOLUTION
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CHAPTER VIII THE BEGINNING OF MY POLITICAL ACTIVITIES
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CHAPTER IX THE GERMAN LABOUR PARTY
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CHAPTER X WHY THE SECOND REICH COLLAPSED
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CHAPTER XI RACE AND PEOPLE
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CHAPTER XII THE FIRST STAGE IN THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE GERMAN NATIONAL
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SOCIALIST LABOUR PARTY
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VOLUME II: THE NATIONAL SOCIALIST MOVEMENT
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CHAPTER I WELTANSCHAUUNG AND PARTY
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CHAPTER II THE STATE
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CHAPTER III CITIZENS AND SUBJECTS OF THE STATE
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CHAPTER IV PERSONALITY AND THE IDEAL OF THE PEOPLE'S STATE
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CHAPTER V WELTANSCHAUUNG AND ORGANIZATION
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CHAPTER VI THE FIRST PERIOD OF OUR STRUGGLE
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CHAPTER VII THE CONFLICT WITH THE RED FORCES
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CHAPTER VIII THE STRONG IS STRONGEST WHEN ALONE
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CHAPTER IX FUNDAMENTAL IDEAS REGARDING THE NATURE AND ORGANIZATION OF
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THE STORM TROOPS
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CHAPTER X THE MASK OF FEDERALISM
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CHAPTER XI PROPAGANDA AND ORGANIZATION
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CHAPTER XII THE PROBLEM OF THE TRADE UNIONS
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CHAPTER XIII THE GERMAN POST-WAR POLICY OF ALLIANCES
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CHAPTER XIV GERMANY'S POLICY IN EASTERN EUROPE
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CHAPTER XV THE RIGHT TO SELF-DEFENCE
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EPILOGUE
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INTRODUCTION
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AUTHOR'S PREFACE
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On April 1st, 1924, I began to serve my sentence of detention in the
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Fortress of Landsberg am Lech, following the verdict of the Munich
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People's Court of that time.
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After years of uninterrupted labour it was now possible for the first
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time to begin a work which many had asked for and which I myself felt
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would be profitable for the Movement. So I decided to devote two volumes
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to a description not only of the aims of our Movement but also of its
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development. There is more to be learned from this than from any purely
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doctrinaire treatise.
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This has also given me the opportunity of describing my own development
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in so far as such a description is necessary to the understanding of the
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first as well as the second volume and to destroy the legendary
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fabrications which the Jewish Press have circulated about me.
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In this work I turn not to strangers but to those followers of the
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Movement whose hearts belong to it and who wish to study it more
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profoundly. I know that fewer people are won over by the written word
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than by the spoken word and that every great movement on this earth owes
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its growth to great speakers and not to great writers.
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Nevertheless, in order to produce more equality and uniformity in the
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defence of any doctrine, its fundamental principles must be committed to
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writing. May these two volumes therefore serve as the building stones
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which I contribute to the joint work.
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The Fortress, Landsberg am Lech.
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At half-past twelve in the afternoon of November 9th, 1923, those whose
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names are given below fell in front of the FELDHERRNHALLE and in the
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forecourt of the former War Ministry in Munich for their loyal faith in
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the resurrection of their people:
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Alfarth, Felix, Merchant, born July 5th, 1901
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Bauriedl, Andreas, Hatmaker, born May 4th, 1879
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Casella, Theodor, Bank Official, born August 8th, 1900
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Ehrlich, Wilhelm, Bank Official, born August 19th, 1894
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Faust, Martin, Bank Official, born January 27th, 1901
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Hechenberger, Anton, Locksmith, born September 28th, 1902
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Koerner, Oskar, Merchant, born January 4th, 1875
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Kuhn, Karl, Head Waiter, born July 25th, 1897
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Laforce, Karl, Student of Engineering, born October 28th, 1904
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Neubauer, Kurt, Waiter, born March 27th, 1899
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Pape, Claus von, Merchant, born August 16th, 1904
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Pfordten, Theodor von der, Councillor to the Superior Provincial Court,
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born May 14th, 1873
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Rickmers, Johann, retired Cavalry Captain, born May 7th, 1881
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Scheubner-Richter, Max Erwin von, Dr. of Engineering, born January 9th,
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1884
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Stransky, Lorenz Ritter von, Engineer, born March 14th, 1899
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Wolf, Wilhelm, Merchant, born October 19th, 1898
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So-called national officials refused to allow the dead heroes a common
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burial. So I dedicate the first volume of this work to them as a common
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memorial, that the memory of those martyrs may be a permanent source of
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light for the followers of our Movement.
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The Fortress, Landsberg a/L.,
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October 16th, 1924
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TRANSLATOR'S INTRODUCTION
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In placing before the reader this unabridged translation of Adolf
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Hitler's book, MEIN KAMPF, I feel it my duty to call attention to
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certain historical facts which must be borne in mind if the reader would
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form a fair judgment of what is written in this extraordinary work.
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The first volume of MEIN KAMPF was written while the author was
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imprisoned in a Bavarian fortress. How did he get there and why? The
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answer to that question is important, because the book deals with the
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events which brought the author into this plight and because he wrote
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under the emotional stress caused by the historical happenings of the
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time. It was the hour of Germany's deepest humiliation, somewhat
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parallel to that of a little over a century before, when Napoleon had
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dismembered the old German Empire and French soldiers occupied almost
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the whole of Germany.
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In the beginning of 1923 the French invaded Germany, occupied the Ruhr
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district and seized several German towns in the Rhineland. This was a
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flagrant breach of international law and was protested against by every
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section of British political opinion at that time. The Germans could not
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effectively defend themselves, as they had been already disarmed under
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the provisions of the Versailles Treaty. To make the situation more
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fraught with disaster for Germany, and therefore more appalling in its
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prospect, the French carried on an intensive propaganda for the
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separation of the Rhineland from the German Republic and the
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establishment of an independent Rhenania. Money was poured out lavishly
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to bribe agitators to carry on this work, and some of the most insidious
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elements of the German population became active in the pay of the
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invader. At the same time a vigorous movement was being carried on in
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Bavaria for the secession of that country and the establishment of an
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independent Catholic monarchy there, under vassalage to France, as
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Napoleon had done when he made Maximilian the first King of Bavaria in
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1805.
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The separatist movement in the Rhineland went so far that some leading
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German politicians came out in favour of it, suggesting that if the
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Rhineland were thus ceded it might be possible for the German Republic
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to strike a bargain with the French in regard to Reparations. But in
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Bavaria the movement went even farther. And it was more far-reaching in
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its implications; for, if an independent Catholic monarchy could be set
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up in Bavaria, the next move would have been a union with Catholic
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German-Austria. possibly under a Habsburg King. Thus a Catholic BLOC
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would have been created which would extend from the Rhineland through
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Bavaria and Austria into the Danube Valley and would have been at least
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under the moral and military, if not the full political, hegemony of
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France. The dream seems fantastic now, but it was considered quite a
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practical thing in those fantastic times. The effect of putting such a
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plan into action would have meant the complete dismemberment of Germany;
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and that is what French diplomacy aimed at. Of course such an aim no
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longer exists. And I should not recall what must now seem "old, unhappy,
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far-off things" to the modern generation, were it not that they were
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very near and actual at the time MEIN KAMPF was written and were more
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unhappy then than we can even imagine now.
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By the autumn of 1923 the separatist movement in Bavaria was on the
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point of becoming an accomplished fact. General von Lossow, the Bavarian
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chief of the REICHSWEHR no longer took orders from Berlin. The flag of
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the German Republic was rarely to be seen, Finally, the Bavarian Prime
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Minister decided to proclaim an independent Bavaria and its secession
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from the German Republic. This was to have taken place on the eve of the
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Fifth Anniversary of the establishment of the German Republic (November
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9th, 1918.)
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Hitler staged a counter-stroke. For several days he had been mobilizing
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his storm battalions in the neighbourhood of Munich, intending to make a
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national demonstration and hoping that the REICHSWEHR would stand by him
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to prevent secession. Ludendorff was with him. And he thought that the
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prestige of the great German Commander in the World War would be
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sufficient to win the allegiance of the professional army.
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A meeting had been announced to take place in the B<>rgerbr<62>u Keller on
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the night of November 8th. The Bavarian patriotic societies were
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gathered there, and the Prime Minister, Dr. von Kahr, started to read
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his official PRONUNCIAMENTO, which practically amounted to a
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proclamation of Bavarian independence and secession from the Republic.
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While von Kahr was speaking Hitler entered the hall, followed by
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Ludendorff. And the meeting was broken up.
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Next day the Nazi battalions took the street for the purpose of making a
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mass demonstration in favour of national union. They marched in massed
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formation, led by Hitler and Ludendorff. As they reached one of the
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central squares of the city the army opened fire on them. Sixteen of the
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marchers were instantly killed, and two died of their wounds in the
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local barracks of the REICHSWEHR. Several others were wounded also.
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Hitler fell on the pavement and broke a collar-bone. Ludendorff marched
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straight up to the soldiers who were firing from the barricade, but not
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a man dared draw a trigger on his old Commander.
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Hitler was arrested with several of his comrades and imprisoned in the
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fortress of Landsberg on the River Lech. On February 26th, 1924, he was
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brought to trial before the VOLKSGERICHT, or People's Court in Munich.
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He was sentenced to detention in a fortress for five years. With several
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companions, who had been also sentenced to various periods of
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imprisonment, he returned to Landsberg am Lech and remained there until
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the 20th of the following December, when he was released. In all he
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spent about thirteen months in prison. It was during this period that he
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wrote the first volume of MEIN KAMPF.
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If we bear all this in mind we can account for the emotional stress
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under which MEIN KAMPF was written. Hitler was naturally incensed
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against the Bavarian government authorities, against the footling
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patriotic societies who were pawns in the French game, though often
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unconsciously so, and of course against the French. That he should write
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harshly of the French was only natural in the circumstances. At that
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time there was no exaggeration whatsoever in calling France the
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implacable and mortal enemy of Germany. Such language was being used by
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even the pacifists themselves, not only in Germany but abroad. And even
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though the second volume of MEIN KAMPF was written after Hitler's
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release from prison and was published after the French had left the
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Ruhr, the tramp of the invading armies still echoed in German ears, and
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the terrible ravages that had been wrought in the industrial and
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financial life of Germany, as a consequence of the French invasion, had
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plunged the country into a state of social and economic chaos. In France
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itself the franc fell to fifty per cent of its previous value. Indeed,
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the whole of Europe had been brought to the brink of ruin, following the
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French invasion of the Ruhr and Rhineland.
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But, as those things belong to the limbo of a dead past that nobody
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wishes to have remembered now, it is often asked: Why doesn't Hitler
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revise MEIN KAMPF? The answer, as I think, which would immediately come
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into the mind of an impartial critic is that MEIN KAMPF is an historical
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document which bears the imprint of its own time. To revise it would
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involve taking it out of its historical context. Moreover Hitler has
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declared that his acts and public statements constitute a partial
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revision of his book and are to be taken as such. This refers especially
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to the statements in MEIN KAMPF regarding France and those German
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kinsfolk that have not yet been incorporated in the REICH. On behalf of
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Germany he has definitely acknowledged the German portion of South Tyrol
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as permanently belonging to Italy and, in regard to France, he has again
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and again declared that no grounds now exist for a conflict of political
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interests between Germany and France and that Germany has no territorial
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claims against France. Finally, I may note here that Hitler has also
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declared that, as he was only a political leader and not yet a statesman
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in a position of official responsibility, when he wrote this book, what
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he stated in MEIN KAMPF does not implicate him as Chancellor of the
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REICH.
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I now come to some references in the text which are frequently recurring
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and which may not always be clear to every reader. For instance, Hitler
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speaks indiscriminately of the German REICH. Sometimes he means to refer
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to the first REICH, or Empire, and sometimes to the German Empire as
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founded under William I in 1871. Incidentally the regime which he
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inaugurated in 1933 is generally known as the THIRD REICH, though this
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expression is not used in MEIN KAMPF. Hitler also speaks of the Austrian
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REICH and the East Mark, without always explicitly distinguishing
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between the Habsburg Empire and Austria proper. If the reader will bear
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the following historical outline in mind, he will understand the
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references as they occur.
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The word REICH, which is a German form of the Latin word REGNUM, does
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not mean Kingdom or Empire or Republic. It is a sort of basic word that
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may apply to any form of Constitution. Perhaps our word, Realm, would be
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the best translation, though the word Empire can be used when the REICH
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was actually an Empire. The forerunner of the first German Empire was
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the Holy Roman Empire which Charlemagne founded in A.D. 800. Charlemagne
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was King of the Franks, a group of Germanic tribes that subsequently
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became Romanized. In the tenth century Charlemagne's Empire passed into
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German hands when Otto I (936-973) became Emperor. As the Holy Roman
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Empire of the German Nation, its formal appellation, it continued to
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exist under German Emperors until Napoleon overran and dismembered
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Germany during the first decade of the last century. On August 6th,
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1806, the last Emperor, Francis II, formally resigned the German crown.
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In the following October Napoleon entered Berlin in triumph, after the
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Battle of Jena.
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After the fall of Napoleon a movement set in for the reunion of the
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German states in one Empire. But the first decisive step towards that
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end was the foundation of the Second German Empire in 1871, after the
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Franco-Prussian War. This Empire, however, did not include the German
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lands which remained under the Habsburg Crown. These were known as
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German Austria. It was Bismarck's dream to unite German Austria with the
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German Empire; but it remained only a dream until Hitler turned it into
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a reality in 1938'. It is well to bear that point in mind, because this
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dream of reuniting all the German states in one REICH has been a
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dominant feature of German patriotism and statesmanship for over a
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century and has been one of Hitler's ideals since his childhood.
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In MEIN KAMPF Hitler often speaks of the East Mark. This East Mark--i.e.
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eastern frontier land--was founded by Charlemagne as the eastern bulwark
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of the Empire. It was inhabited principally by Germano-Celtic tribes
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called Bajuvari and stood for centuries as the firm bulwark of Western
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Christendom against invasion from the East, especially against the
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Turks. Geographically it was almost identical with German Austria.
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There are a few points more that I wish to mention in this introductory
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note. For instance, I have let the word WELTANSCHAUUNG stand in its
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original form very often. We have no one English word to convey the same
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meaning as the German word, and it would have burdened the text too much
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if I were to use a circumlocution each time the word occurs.
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WELTANSCHAUUNG literally means "Outlook-on-the World". But as generally
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used in German this outlook on the world means a whole system of ideas
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associated together in an organic unity--ideas of human life, human
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values, cultural and religious ideas, politics, economics, etc., in fact
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a totalitarian view of human existence. Thus Christianity could be
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called a WELTANSCHAUUNG, and Mohammedanism could be called a
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WELTANSCHAUUNG, and Socialism could be called a WELTANSCHAUUNG,
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especially as preached in Russia. National Socialism claims definitely
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to be a WELTANSCHAUUNG.
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Another word I have often left standing in the original is V<>LKISCH. The
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basic word here is VOLK, which is sometimes translated as PEOPLE; but
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the German word, VOLK, means the whole body of the PEOPLE without any
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distinction of class or caste. It is a primary word also that suggests
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what might be called the basic national stock. Now, after the defeat in
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1918, the downfall of the Monarchy and the destruction of the
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aristocracy and the upper classes, the concept of DAS VOLK came into
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prominence as the unifying co-efficient which would embrace the whole
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German people. Hence the large number of V<>LKISCH societies that arose
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after the war and hence also the National Socialist concept of
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unification which is expressed by the word VOLKSGEMEINSCHAFT, or folk
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community. This is used in contradistinction to the Socialist concept of
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the nation as being divided into classes. Hitler's ideal is the
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V<EFBFBD>LKISCHER STAAT, which I have translated as the People's State.
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Finally, I would point out that the term Social Democracy may be
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misleading in English, as it has not a democratic connotation in our
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sense. It was the name given to the Socialist Party in Germany. And that
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Party was purely Marxist; but it adopted the name Social Democrat in
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order to appeal to the democratic sections of the German people.
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JAMES MURPHY.
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Abbots Langley, February, 1939
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VOLUME I: A RETROSPECT
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CHAPTER I
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IN THE HOME OF MY PARENTS
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It has turned out fortunate for me to-day that destiny appointed
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Braunau-on-the-Inn to be my birthplace. For that little town is situated
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just on the frontier between those two States the reunion of which
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seems, at least to us of the younger generation, a task to which we
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should devote our lives and in the pursuit of which every possible means
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should be employed.
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German-Austria must be restored to the great German Motherland. And not
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indeed on any grounds of economic calculation whatsoever. No, no. Even
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if the union were a matter of economic indifference, and even if it were
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to be disadvantageous from the economic standpoint, still it ought to
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take place. People of the same blood should be in the same REICH. The
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German people will have no right to engage in a colonial policy until
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they shall have brought all their children together in the one State.
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When the territory of the REICH embraces all the Germans and finds
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itself unable to assure them a livelihood, only then can the moral right
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arise, from the need of the people to acquire foreign territory. The
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plough is then the sword; and the tears of war will produce the daily
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bread for the generations to come.
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And so this little frontier town appeared to me as the symbol of a great
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task. But in another regard also it points to a lesson that is
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applicable to our day. Over a hundred years ago this sequestered spot
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was the scene of a tragic calamity which affected the whole German
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nation and will be remembered for ever, at least in the annals of German
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history. At the time of our Fatherland's deepest humiliation a
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bookseller, Johannes Palm, uncompromising nationalist and enemy of the
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French, was put to death here because he had the misfortune to have
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loved Germany well. He obstinately refused to disclose the names of his
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associates, or rather the principals who were chiefly responsible for
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the affair. Just as it happened with Leo Schlageter. The former, like
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the latter, was denounced to the French by a Government agent. It was a
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director of police from Augsburg who won an ignoble renown on that
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occasion and set the example which was to be copied at a later date by
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the neo-German officials of the REICH under Herr Severing's
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regime (Note 1).
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[Note 1. In order to understand the reference here, and similar
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references in later portions of MEIN KAMPF, the following must be borne
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in mind:
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From 1792 to 1814 the French Revolutionary Armies overran Germany. In
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1800 Bavaria shared in the Austrian defeat at Hohenlinden and the French
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occupied Munich. In 1805 the Bavarian Elector was made King of Bavaria by
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Napoleon and stipulated to back up Napoleon in all his wars with a force
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of 30,000 men. Thus Bavaria became the absolute vassal of the French.
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This was 'TheTime of Germany's Deepest Humiliation', Which is referred
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to again and again by Hitler.
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In 1806 a pamphlet entitled 'Germany's Deepest Humiliation' was
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published in South Germany. Amnng those who helped to circulate the
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pamphlet was the N<>rnberg bookseller, Johannes Philipp Palm. He was
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denounced to the French by a Bavarian police agent. At his trial he
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refused to disclose thename of the author. By Napoleon's orders, he was
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shot at Braunau-on-the-Innon August 26th, 1806. A monument erected to
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him on the site of the executionwas one of the first public objects that
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made an impression on Hitler asa little boy.
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Leo Schlageter's case was in many respects parallel to that of Johannes
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Palm. Schlageter was a German theological student who volunteered for
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service in 1914. He became an artillery officer and won the Iron Cross of
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||
both classes. When the French occupied the Ruhr in 1923 Schlageter helped
|
||
to organize the passive resistance on the German side. He and his
|
||
companions blew up a railway bridge for the purpose of making the
|
||
transport of coal to France more difficult.
|
||
|
||
Those who took part in the affair were denounced to the French by a
|
||
German informer. Schlageter took the whole responsibility on his own
|
||
shoulders and was condemned to death, his companions being sentenced to
|
||
various terms of imprisonment and penal servitude by the French Court.
|
||
Schlageter refused to disclose the identity of those who issued the order
|
||
to blow up the railway bridge and he would not plead for mercy before a
|
||
French Court. He was shot by a French firing-squad on May 26th, 1923.
|
||
Severing was at that time German Minister of the Interior. It is said
|
||
that representations were made, to himon Schlageter's behalf and that he
|
||
refused to interfere.
|
||
|
||
Schlageter has become the chief martyr of the German resistancc to the
|
||
French occupation of the Ruhr and also one of the great heroes of the
|
||
National Socialist Movement. He had joined the Movement at a very early
|
||
stage, his card of membership bearing the number 61.]
|
||
|
||
In this little town on the Inn, haloed by the memory of a German martyr,
|
||
a town that was Bavarian by blood but under the rule of the Austrian
|
||
State, my parents were domiciled towards the end of the last century. My
|
||
father was a civil servant who fulfilled his duties very
|
||
conscientiously. My mother looked after the household and lovingly
|
||
devoted herself to the care of her children. From that period I have not
|
||
retained very much in my memory; because after a few years my father had
|
||
to leave that frontier town which I had come to love so much and take up
|
||
a new post farther down the Inn valley, at Passau, therefore actually in
|
||
Germany itself.
|
||
|
||
In those days it was the usual lot of an Austrian civil servant to be
|
||
transferred periodically from one post to another. Not long after coming
|
||
to Passau my father was transferred to Linz, and while there he retired
|
||
finally to live on his pension. But this did not mean that the old
|
||
gentleman would now rest from his labours.
|
||
|
||
He was the son of a poor cottager, and while still a boy he grew
|
||
restless and left home. When he was barely thirteen years old he buckled
|
||
on his satchel and set forth from his native woodland parish. Despite
|
||
the dissuasion of villagers who could speak from 'experience,' he went
|
||
to Vienna to learn a trade there. This was in the fiftieth year of the
|
||
last century. It was a sore trial, that of deciding to leave home and
|
||
face the unknown, with three gulden in his pocket. By when the boy of
|
||
thirteen was a lad of seventeen and had passed his apprenticeship
|
||
examination as a craftsman he was not content. Quite the contrary. The
|
||
persistent economic depression of that period and the constant want and
|
||
misery strengthened his resolution to give up working at a trade and
|
||
strive for 'something higher.' As a boy it had seemed to him that the
|
||
position of the parish priest in his native village was the highest in
|
||
the scale of human attainment; but now that the big city had enlarged
|
||
his outlook the young man looked up to the dignity of a State official
|
||
as the highest of all. With the tenacity of one whom misery and trouble
|
||
had already made old when only half-way through his youth the young man
|
||
of seventeen obstinately set out on his new project and stuck to it
|
||
until he won through. He became a civil servant. He was about
|
||
twenty-three years old, I think, when he succeeded in making himself
|
||
what he had resolved to become. Thus he was able to fulfil the promise
|
||
he had made as a poor boy not to return to his native village until he
|
||
was 'somebody.'
|
||
|
||
He had gained his end. But in the village there was nobody who had
|
||
remembered him as a little boy, and the village itself had become
|
||
strange to him.
|
||
|
||
Now at last, when he was fifty-six years old, he gave up his active
|
||
career; but he could not bear to be idle for a single day. On the
|
||
outskirts of the small market town of Lambach in Upper Austria he bought
|
||
a farm and tilled it himself. Thus, at the end of a long and
|
||
hard-working career, he came back to the life which his father had led.
|
||
|
||
It was at this period that I first began to have ideals of my own. I
|
||
spent a good deal of time scampering about in the open, on the long road
|
||
from school, and mixing up with some of the roughest of the boys, which
|
||
caused my mother many anxious moments. All this tended to make me
|
||
something quite the reverse of a stay-at-home. I gave scarcely any
|
||
serious thought to the question of choosing a vocation in life; but I
|
||
was certainly quite out of sympathy with the kind of career which my
|
||
father had followed. I think that an inborn talent for speaking now
|
||
began to develop and take shape during the more or less strenuous
|
||
arguments which I used to have with my comrades. I had become a juvenile
|
||
ringleader who learned well and easily at school but was rather
|
||
difficult to manage. In my freetime I practised singing in the choir of
|
||
the monastery church at Lambach, and thus it happened that I was placed
|
||
in a very favourable position to be emotionally impressed again and
|
||
again by the magnificent splendour of ecclesiastical ceremonial. What
|
||
could be more natural for me than to look upon the Abbot as representing
|
||
the highest human ideal worth striving for, just as the position of the
|
||
humble village priest had appeared to my father in his own boyhood days?
|
||
At least, that was my idea for a while. But the juvenile disputes I had
|
||
with my father did not lead him to appreciate his son's oratorical gifts
|
||
in such a way as to see in them a favourable promise for such a career,
|
||
and so he naturally could not understand the boyish ideas I had in my
|
||
head at that time. This contradiction in my character made him feel
|
||
somewhat anxious.
|
||
|
||
As a matter of fact, that transitory yearning after such a vocation soon
|
||
gave way to hopes that were better suited to my temperament. Browsing
|
||
through my father's books, I chanced to come across some publications
|
||
that dealt with military subjects. One of these publications was a
|
||
popular history of the Franco-German War of 1870-71. It consisted of two
|
||
volumes of an illustrated periodical dating from those years. These
|
||
became my favourite reading. In a little while that great and heroic
|
||
conflict began to take first place in my mind. And from that time
|
||
onwards I became more and more enthusiastic about everything that was in
|
||
any way connected with war or military affairs.
|
||
|
||
But this story of the Franco-German War had a special significance for
|
||
me on other grounds also. For the first time, and as yet only in quite a
|
||
vague way, the question began to present itself: Is there a
|
||
difference--and if there be, what is it--between the Germans who fought
|
||
that war and the other Germans? Why did not Austria also take part in
|
||
it? Why did not my father and all the others fight in that struggle? Are
|
||
we not the same as the other Germans? Do we not all belong together?
|
||
|
||
That was the first time that this problem began to agitate my small
|
||
brain. And from the replies that were given to the questions which I
|
||
asked very tentatively, I was forced to accept the fact, though with a
|
||
secret envy, that not all Germans had the good luck to belong to
|
||
Bismarck's Empire. This was something that I could not understand.
|
||
|
||
It was decided that I should study. Considering my character as a whole,
|
||
and especially my temperament, my father decided that the classical
|
||
subjects studied at the Lyceum were not suited to my natural talents. He
|
||
thought that the REALSCHULE (Note 2) would suit me better. My obvious
|
||
talent for drawing confirmed him in that view; for in his opinion drawing
|
||
was a subject too much neglected in the Austrian GYMNASIUM. Probably also
|
||
the memory of the hard road which he himself had travelled contributed to
|
||
make him look upon classical studies as unpractical and accordingly to
|
||
set little value on them. At the back of his mind he had the idea that
|
||
his son also should become an official of the Government. Indeed he had
|
||
decided on that career for me. The difficulties through which he had to
|
||
struggle in making his own career led him to overestimate what he had
|
||
achieved, because this was exclusively the result of his own
|
||
indefatigable industry and energy. The characteristic pride of the
|
||
self-made man urged him towards the idea that his son should follow the
|
||
same calling and if possible rise to a higher position in it. Moreover,
|
||
this idea was strengthened by the consideration that the results of his
|
||
own life's industry had placed him in a position to facilitate his son's
|
||
advancement in the same career.
|
||
|
||
[Note 2. Non-classical secondary school. The Lyceum and GYMNASIUM were
|
||
classical or semi-classical secondary schools.]
|
||
|
||
He was simply incapable of imagining that I might reject what had meant
|
||
everything in life to him. My father's decision was simple, definite,
|
||
clear and, in his eyes, it was something to be taken for granted. A man
|
||
of such a nature who had become an autocrat by reason of his own hard
|
||
struggle for existence, could not think of allowing 'inexperienced' and
|
||
irresponsible young fellows to choose their own careers. To act in such
|
||
a way, where the future of his own son was concerned, would have been a
|
||
grave and reprehensible weakness in the exercise of parental authority
|
||
and responsibility, something utterly incompatible with his
|
||
characteristic sense of duty.
|
||
|
||
And yet it had to be otherwise.
|
||
|
||
For the first time in my life--I was then eleven years old--I felt
|
||
myself forced into open opposition. No matter how hard and determined my
|
||
father might be about putting his own plans and opinions into action,
|
||
his son was no less obstinate in refusing to accept ideas on which he
|
||
set little or no value.
|
||
|
||
I would not become a civil servant.
|
||
|
||
No amount of persuasion and no amount of 'grave' warnings could break
|
||
down that opposition. I would not become a State official, not on any
|
||
account. All the attempts which my father made to arouse in me a love or
|
||
liking for that profession, by picturing his own career for me, had only
|
||
the opposite effect. It nauseated me to think that one day I might be
|
||
fettered to an office stool, that I could not dispose of my own time but
|
||
would be forced to spend the whole of my life filling out forms.
|
||
|
||
One can imagine what kind of thoughts such a prospect awakened in the
|
||
mind of a young fellow who was by no means what is called a 'good boy'
|
||
in the current sense of that term. The ridiculously easy school tasks
|
||
which we were given made it possible for me to spend far more time in
|
||
the open air than at home. To-day, when my political opponents pry into
|
||
my life with diligent scrutiny, as far back as the days of my boyhood,
|
||
so as finally to be able to prove what disreputable tricks this Hitler
|
||
was accustomed to in his young days, I thank heaven that I can look back
|
||
to those happy days and find the memory of them helpful. The fields and
|
||
the woods were then the terrain on which all disputes were fought out.
|
||
|
||
Even attendance at the REALSCHULE could not alter my way of spending my
|
||
time. But I had now another battle to fight.
|
||
|
||
So long as the paternal plan to make a State functionary contradicted my
|
||
own inclinations only in the abstract, the conflict was easy to bear. I
|
||
could be discreet about expressing my personal views and thus avoid
|
||
constantly recurrent disputes. My own resolution not to become a
|
||
Government official was sufficient for the time being to put my mind
|
||
completely at rest. I held on to that resolution inexorably. But the
|
||
situation became more difficult once I had a positive plan of my own
|
||
which I might present to my father as a counter-suggestion. This
|
||
happened when I was twelve years old. How it came about I cannot exactly
|
||
say now; but one day it became clear to me that I would be a painter--I
|
||
mean an artist. That I had an aptitude for drawing was an admitted fact.
|
||
It was even one of the reasons why my father had sent me to the
|
||
REALSCHULE; but he had never thought of having that talent developed in
|
||
such a way that I could take up painting as a professional career. Quite
|
||
the contrary. When, as a result of my renewed refusal to adopt his
|
||
favourite plan, my father asked me for the first time what I myself
|
||
really wished to be, the resolution that I had already formed expressed
|
||
itself almost automatically. For a while my father was speechless. "A
|
||
painter? An artist-painter?" he exclaimed.
|
||
|
||
He wondered whether I was in a sound state of mind. He thought that he
|
||
might not have caught my words rightly, or that he had misunderstood
|
||
what I meant. But when I had explained my ideas to him and he saw how
|
||
seriously I took them, he opposed them with that full determination
|
||
which was characteristic of him. His decision was exceedingly simple and
|
||
could not be deflected from its course by any consideration of what my
|
||
own natural qualifications really were.
|
||
|
||
"Artist! Not as long as I live, never." As the son had inherited some of
|
||
the father's obstinacy, besides having other qualities of his own, my
|
||
reply was equally energetic. But it stated something quite the contrary.
|
||
|
||
At that our struggle became stalemate. The father would not abandon his
|
||
'Never', and I became all the more consolidated in my 'Nevertheless'.
|
||
|
||
Naturally the resulting situation was not pleasant. The old gentleman
|
||
was bitterly annoyed; and indeed so was I, although I really loved him.
|
||
My father forbade me to entertain any hopes of taking up the art of
|
||
painting as a profession. I went a step further and declared that I
|
||
would not study anything else. With such declarations the situation
|
||
became still more strained, so that the old gentleman irrevocably
|
||
decided to assert his parental authority at all costs. That led me to
|
||
adopt an attitude of circumspect silence, but I put my threat into
|
||
execution. I thought that, once it became clear to my father that I was
|
||
making no progress at the REALSCHULE, for weal or for woe, he would be
|
||
forced to allow me to follow the happy career I had dreamed of.
|
||
|
||
I do not know whether I calculated rightly or not. Certainly my failure
|
||
to make progress became quite visible in the school. I studied just the
|
||
subjects that appealed to me, especially those which I thought might be
|
||
of advantage to me later on as a painter. What did not appear to have
|
||
any importance from this point of view, or what did not otherwise appeal
|
||
to me favourably, I completely sabotaged. My school reports of that time
|
||
were always in the extremes of good or bad, according to the subject and
|
||
the interest it had for me. In one column my qualification read 'very
|
||
good' or 'excellent'. In another it read 'average' or even 'below
|
||
average'. By far my best subjects were geography and, even more so,
|
||
general history. These were my two favourite subjects, and I led the
|
||
class in them.
|
||
|
||
When I look back over so many years and try to judge the results of that
|
||
experience I find two very significant facts standing out clearly before
|
||
my mind.
|
||
|
||
First, I became a nationalist.
|
||
|
||
Second, I learned to understand and grasp the true meaning of history.
|
||
|
||
The old Austria was a multi-national State. In those days at least the
|
||
citizens of the German Empire, taken through and through, could not
|
||
understand what that fact meant in the everyday life of the individuals
|
||
within such a State. After the magnificent triumphant march of the
|
||
victorious armies in the Franco-German War the Germans in the REICH
|
||
became steadily more and more estranged from the Germans beyond their
|
||
frontiers, partly because they did not deign to appreciate those other
|
||
Germans at their true value or simply because they were incapable of
|
||
doing so.
|
||
|
||
The Germans of the REICH did not realize that if the Germans in Austria
|
||
had not been of the best racial stock they could never have given the
|
||
stamp of their own character to an Empire of 52 millions, so definitely
|
||
that in Germany itself the idea arose--though quite an erroneous
|
||
one--that Austria was a German State. That was an error which led to
|
||
dire consequences; but all the same it was a magnificent testimony to
|
||
the character of the ten million Germans in that East Mark. (Note 3)
|
||
Only very few of the Germans in the REICH itself had an idea of the bitter
|
||
struggle which those Eastern Germans had to carry on daily for the
|
||
preservation of their German language, their German schools and their
|
||
German character. Only to-day, when a tragic fate has torn several
|
||
millions of our kinsfolk away from the REICH and has forced them to live
|
||
under the rule of the stranger, dreaming of that common fatherland
|
||
towards which all their yearnings are directed and struggling to uphold
|
||
at least the sacred right of using their mother tongue--only now have
|
||
the wider circles of the German population come to realize what it means
|
||
to have to fight for the traditions of one's race. And so at last
|
||
perhaps there are people here and there who can assess the greatness of
|
||
that German spirit which animated the old East Mark and enabled those
|
||
people, left entirely dependent on their own resources, to defend the
|
||
Empire against the Orient for several centuries and subsequently to hold
|
||
fast the frontiers of the German language through a guerilla warfare of
|
||
attrition, at a time when the German Empire was sedulously cultivating
|
||
an interest for colonies but not for its own flesh and blood before the
|
||
threshold of its own door.
|
||
|
||
[Note 3. See Translator's Introduction.]
|
||
|
||
What has happened always and everywhere, in every kind of struggle,
|
||
happened also in the language fight which was carried on in the old
|
||
Austria. There were three groups--the fighters, the hedgers and the
|
||
traitors. Even in the schools this sifting already began to take place.
|
||
And it is worth noting that the struggle for the language was waged
|
||
perhaps in its bitterest form around the school; because this was the
|
||
nursery where the seeds had to be watered which were to spring up and
|
||
form the future generation. The tactical objective of the fight was the
|
||
winning over of the child, and it was to the child that the first
|
||
rallying cry was addressed:
|
||
|
||
"German youth, do not forget that you are a German," and "Remember,
|
||
little girl, that one day you must be a German mother."
|
||
|
||
Those who know something of the juvenile spirit can understand how youth
|
||
will always lend a glad ear to such a rallying cry. Under many forms the
|
||
young people led the struggle, fighting in their own way and with their
|
||
own weapons. They refused to sing non-German songs. The greater the
|
||
efforts made to win them away from their German allegiance, the more
|
||
they exalted the glory of their German heroes. They stinted themselves
|
||
in buying things to eat, so that they might spare their pennies to help
|
||
the war chest of their elders. They were incredibly alert in the
|
||
significance of what the non-German teachers said and they contradicted
|
||
in unison. They wore the forbidden emblems of their own kinsfolk and
|
||
were happy when penalised for doing so, or even physically punished. In
|
||
miniature they were mirrors of loyalty from which the older people might
|
||
learn a lesson.
|
||
|
||
And thus it was that at a comparatively early age I took part in the
|
||
struggle which the nationalities were waging against one another in the
|
||
old Austria. When meetings were held for the South Mark German League
|
||
and the School League we wore cornflowers and black-red-gold colours to
|
||
express our loyalty. We greeted one another with HEIL! and instead of
|
||
the Austrian anthem we sang our own DEUTSCHLAND <20>BER ALLES, despite
|
||
warnings and penalties. Thus the youth were educated politically at a
|
||
time when the citizens of a so-called national State for the most part
|
||
knew little of their own nationality except the language. Of course, I
|
||
did not belong to the hedgers. Within a little while I had become an
|
||
ardent 'German National', which has a different meaning from the party
|
||
significance attached to that phrase to-day.
|
||
|
||
I developed very rapidly in the nationalist direction, and by the time I
|
||
was 15 years old I had come to understand the distinction between
|
||
dynastic patriotism and nationalism based on the concept of folk, or
|
||
people, my inclination being entirely in favour of the latter.
|
||
|
||
Such a preference may not perhaps be clearly intelligible to those who
|
||
have never taken the trouble to study the internal conditions that
|
||
prevailed under the Habsburg Monarchy.
|
||
|
||
Among historical studies universal history was the subject almost
|
||
exclusively taught in the Austrian schools, for of specific Austrian
|
||
history there was only very little. The fate of this State was closely
|
||
bound up with the existence and development of Germany as a whole; so a
|
||
division of history into German history and Austrian history would be
|
||
practically inconceivable. And indeed it was only when the German people
|
||
came to be divided between two States that this division of German
|
||
history began to take place.
|
||
|
||
The insignia (Note 4) of a former imperial sovereignty which were still
|
||
preserved in Vienna appeared to act as magical relics rather than as the
|
||
visible guarantee of an everlasting bond of union.
|
||
|
||
[Note 4. When Francis II had laid down his title as Emperor of the Holy
|
||
Roman Empireof the German Nation, which he did at the command of Napoleon,
|
||
the Crownand Mace, as the Imperial Insignia, were kept in Vienna. After
|
||
the German Empire was refounded, in 1871, under William I, there were many
|
||
demands tohave the Insignia transferred to Berlin. But these went
|
||
unheeded. Hitler had them brought to Germany after the Austrian Anschluss
|
||
and displayed at Nuremberg during the Party Congress in September 1938.]
|
||
|
||
When the Habsburg State crumbled to pieces in 1918 the Austrian Germans
|
||
instinctively raised an outcry for union with their German fatherland.
|
||
That was the voice of a unanimous yearning in the hearts of the whole
|
||
people for a return to the unforgotten home of their fathers. But such a
|
||
general yearning could not be explained except by attributing the cause
|
||
of it to the historical training through which the individual Austrian
|
||
Germans had passed. Therein lay a spring that never dried up. Especially
|
||
in times of distraction and forgetfulness its quiet voice was a reminder
|
||
of the past, bidding the people to look out beyond the mere welfare of
|
||
the moment to a new future.
|
||
|
||
The teaching of universal history in what are called the middle schools
|
||
is still very unsatisfactory. Few teachers realize that the purpose of
|
||
teaching history is not the memorizing of some dates and facts, that the
|
||
student is not interested in knowing the exact date of a battle or the
|
||
birthday of some marshal or other, and not at all--or at least only very
|
||
insignificantly--interested in knowing when the crown of his fathers was
|
||
placed on the brow of some monarch. These are certainly not looked upon
|
||
as important matters.
|
||
|
||
To study history means to search for and discover the forces that are
|
||
the causes of those results which appear before our eyes as historical
|
||
events. The art of reading and studying consists in remembering the
|
||
essentials and forgetting what is not essential.
|
||
|
||
Probably my whole future life was determined by the fact that I had a
|
||
professor of history who understood, as few others understand, how to
|
||
make this viewpoint prevail in teaching and in examining. This teacher
|
||
was Dr. Leopold Poetsch, of the REALSCHULE at Linz. He was the ideal
|
||
personification of the qualities necessary to a teacher of history in
|
||
the sense I have mentioned above. An elderly gentleman with a decisive
|
||
manner but a kindly heart, he was a very attractive speaker and was able
|
||
to inspire us with his own enthusiasm. Even to-day I cannot recall
|
||
without emotion that venerable personality whose enthusiastic exposition
|
||
of history so often made us entirely forget the present and allow
|
||
ourselves to be transported as if by magic into the past. He penetrated
|
||
through the dim mist of thousands of years and transformed the
|
||
historical memory of the dead past into a living reality. When we
|
||
listened to him we became afire with enthusiasm and we were sometimes
|
||
moved even to tears.
|
||
|
||
It was still more fortunate that this professor was able not only to
|
||
illustrate the past by examples from the present but from the past he
|
||
was also able to draw a lesson for the present. He understood better
|
||
than any other the everyday problems that were then agitating our minds.
|
||
The national fervour which we felt in our own small way was utilized by
|
||
him as an instrument of our education, inasmuch as he often appealed to
|
||
our national sense of honour; for in that way he maintained order and
|
||
held our attention much more easily than he could have done by any other
|
||
means. It was because I had such a professor that history became my
|
||
favourite subject. As a natural consequence, but without the conscious
|
||
connivance of my professor, I then and there became a young rebel. But
|
||
who could have studied German history under such a teacher and not
|
||
become an enemy of that State whose rulers exercised such a disastrous
|
||
influence on the destinies of the German nation? Finally, how could one
|
||
remain the faithful subject of the House of Habsburg, whose past history
|
||
and present conduct proved it to be ready ever and always to betray the
|
||
interests of the German people for the sake of paltry personal
|
||
interests? Did not we as youngsters fully realize that the House of
|
||
Habsburg did not, and could not, have any love for us Germans?
|
||
|
||
What history taught us about the policy followed by the House of
|
||
Habsburg was corroborated by our own everyday experiences. In the north
|
||
and in the south the poison of foreign races was eating into the body of
|
||
our people, and even Vienna was steadily becoming more and more a
|
||
non-German city. The 'Imperial House' favoured the Czechs on every
|
||
possible occasion. Indeed it was the hand of the goddess of eternal
|
||
justice and inexorable retribution that caused the most deadly enemy of
|
||
Germanism in Austria, the Archduke Franz Ferdinand, to fall by the very
|
||
bullets which he himself had helped to cast. Working from above
|
||
downwards, he was the chief patron of the movement to make Austria a
|
||
Slav State.
|
||
|
||
The burdens laid on the shoulders of the German people were enormous and
|
||
the sacrifices of money and blood which they had to make were incredibly
|
||
heavy.
|
||
|
||
Yet anybody who was not quite blind must have seen that it was all in
|
||
vain. What affected us most bitterly was the consciousness of the fact
|
||
that this whole system was morally shielded by the alliance with
|
||
Germany, whereby the slow extirpation of Germanism in the old Austrian
|
||
Monarchy seemed in some way to be more or less sanctioned by Germany
|
||
herself. Habsburg hypocrisy, which endeavoured outwardly to make the
|
||
people believe that Austria still remained a German State, increased the
|
||
feeling of hatred against the Imperial House and at the same time
|
||
aroused a spirit of rebellion and contempt.
|
||
|
||
But in the German Empire itself those who were then its rulers saw
|
||
nothing of what all this meant. As if struck blind, they stood beside a
|
||
corpse and in the very symptoms of decomposition they believed that they
|
||
recognized the signs of a renewed vitality. In that unhappy alliance
|
||
between the young German Empire and the illusory Austrian State lay the
|
||
germ of the World War and also of the final collapse.
|
||
|
||
In the subsequent pages of this book I shall go to the root of the
|
||
problem. Suffice it to say here that in the very early years of my youth
|
||
I came to certain conclusions which I have never abandoned. Indeed I
|
||
became more profoundly convinced of them as the years passed. They were:
|
||
That the dissolution of the Austrian Empire is a preliminary condition
|
||
for the defence of Germany; further, that national feeling is by no
|
||
means identical with dynastic patriotism; finally, and above all, that
|
||
the House of Habsburg was destined to bring misfortune to the German
|
||
nation.
|
||
|
||
As a logical consequence of these convictions, there arose in me a
|
||
feeling of intense love for my German-Austrian home and a profound
|
||
hatred for the Austrian State.
|
||
|
||
That kind of historical thinking which was developed in me through my
|
||
study of history at school never left me afterwards. World history
|
||
became more and more an inexhaustible source for the understanding of
|
||
contemporary historical events, which means politics. Therefore I will
|
||
not "learn" politics but let politics teach me.
|
||
|
||
A precocious revolutionary in politics I was no less a precocious
|
||
revolutionary in art. At that time the provincial capital of Upper
|
||
Austria had a theatre which, relatively speaking, was not bad. Almost
|
||
everything was played there. When I was twelve years old I saw William
|
||
Tell performed. That was my first experience of the theatre. Some months
|
||
later I attended a performance of LOHENGRIN, the first opera I had ever
|
||
heard. I was fascinated at once. My youthful enthusiasm for the Bayreuth
|
||
Master knew no limits. Again and again I was drawn to hear his operas;
|
||
and to-day I consider it a great piece of luck that these modest
|
||
productions in the little provincial city prepared the way and made it
|
||
possible for me to appreciate the better productions later on.
|
||
|
||
But all this helped to intensify my profound aversion for the career
|
||
that my father had chosen for me; and this dislike became especially
|
||
strong as the rough corners of youthful boorishness became worn off, a
|
||
process which in my case caused a good deal of pain. I became more and
|
||
more convinced that I should never be happy as a State official. And now
|
||
that the REALSCHULE had recognized and acknowledged my aptitude for
|
||
drawing, my own resolution became all the stronger. Imprecations and
|
||
threats had no longer any chance of changing it. I wanted to become a
|
||
painter and no power in the world could force me to become a civil
|
||
servant. The only peculiar feature of the situation now was that as I
|
||
grew bigger I became more and more interested in architecture. I
|
||
considered this fact as a natural development of my flair for painting
|
||
and I rejoiced inwardly that the sphere of my artistic interests was
|
||
thus enlarged. I had no notion that one day it would have to be
|
||
otherwise.
|
||
|
||
The question of my career was decided much sooner than I could have
|
||
expected.
|
||
|
||
When I was in my thirteenth year my father was suddenly taken from us.
|
||
He was still in robust health when a stroke of apoplexy painlessly ended
|
||
his earthly wanderings and left us all deeply bereaved. His most ardent
|
||
longing was to be able to help his son to advance in a career and thus
|
||
save me from the harsh ordeal that he himself had to go through. But it
|
||
appeared to him then as if that longing were all in vain. And yet,
|
||
though he himself was not conscious of it, he had sown the seeds of a
|
||
future which neither of us foresaw at that time.
|
||
|
||
At first nothing changed outwardly.
|
||
|
||
My mother felt it her duty to continue my education in accordance with
|
||
my father's wishes, which meant that she would have me study for the
|
||
civil service. For my own part I was even more firmly determined than
|
||
ever before that under no circumstances would I become an official of
|
||
the State. The curriculum and teaching methods followed in the middle
|
||
school were so far removed from my ideals that I became profoundly
|
||
indifferent. Illness suddenly came to my assistance. Within a few weeks
|
||
it decided my future and put an end to the long-standing family
|
||
conflict. My lungs became so seriously affected that the doctor advised
|
||
my mother very strongly not under any circumstances to allow me to take
|
||
up a career which would necessitate working in an office. He ordered
|
||
that I should give up attendance at the REALSCHULE for a year at least.
|
||
What I had secretly desired for such a long time, and had persistently
|
||
fought for, now became a reality almost at one stroke.
|
||
|
||
Influenced by my illness, my mother agreed that I should leave the
|
||
REALSCHULE and attend the Academy.
|
||
|
||
Those were happy days, which appeared to me almost as a dream; but they
|
||
were bound to remain only a dream. Two years later my mother's death put
|
||
a brutal end to all my fine projects. She succumbed to a long and
|
||
painful illness which from the very beginning permitted little hope of
|
||
recovery. Though expected, her death came as a terrible blow to me. I
|
||
respected my father, but I loved my mother.
|
||
|
||
Poverty and stern reality forced me to decide promptly.
|
||
|
||
The meagre resources of the family had been almost entirely used up
|
||
through my mother's severe illness. The allowance which came to me as an
|
||
orphan was not enough for the bare necessities of life. Somehow or other
|
||
I would have to earn my own bread.
|
||
|
||
With my clothes and linen packed in a valise and with an indomitable
|
||
resolution in my heart, I left for Vienna. I hoped to forestall fate, as
|
||
my father had done fifty years before. I was determined to become
|
||
'something'--but certainly not a civil servant.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
CHAPTER II
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
YEARS OF STUDY AND SUFFERING IN VIENNA
|
||
|
||
|
||
When my mother died my fate had already been decided in one respect.
|
||
During the last months of her illness I went to Vienna to take the
|
||
entrance examination for the Academy of Fine Arts. Armed with a bulky
|
||
packet of sketches, I felt convinced that I should pass the examination
|
||
quite easily. At the REALSCHULE I was by far the best student in the
|
||
drawing class, and since that time I had made more than ordinary
|
||
progress in the practice of drawing. Therefore I was pleased with myself
|
||
and was proud and happy at the prospect of what I considered an assured
|
||
success.
|
||
|
||
But there was one misgiving: It seemed to me that I was better qualified
|
||
for drawing than for painting, especially in the various branches of
|
||
architectural drawing. At the same time my interest in architecture was
|
||
constantly increasing. And I advanced in this direction at a still more
|
||
rapid pace after my first visit to Vienna, which lasted two weeks. I was
|
||
not yet sixteen years old. I went to the Hof Museum to study the
|
||
paintings in the art gallery there; but the building itself captured
|
||
almost all my interest, from early morning until late at night I spent
|
||
all my time visiting the various public buildings. And it was the
|
||
buildings themselves that were always the principal attraction for me.
|
||
For hours and hours I could stand in wonderment before the Opera and the
|
||
Parliament. The whole Ring Strasse had a magic effect upon me, as if it
|
||
were a scene from the Thousand-and-one-Nights.
|
||
|
||
And now I was here for the second time in this beautiful city,
|
||
impatiently waiting to hear the result of the entrance examination but
|
||
proudly confident that I had got through. I was so convinced of my
|
||
success that when the news that I had failed to pass was brought to me
|
||
it struck me like a bolt from the skies. Yet the fact was that I had
|
||
failed. I went to see the Rector and asked him to explain the reasons
|
||
why they refused to accept me as a student in the general School of
|
||
Painting, which was part of the Academy. He said that the sketches which
|
||
I had brought with me unquestionably showed that painting was not what I
|
||
was suited for but that the same sketches gave clear indications of my
|
||
aptitude for architectural designing. Therefore the School of Painting
|
||
did not come into question for me but rather the School of Architecture,
|
||
which also formed part of the Academy. At first it was impossible to
|
||
understand how this could be so, seeing that I had never been to a
|
||
school for architecture and had never received any instruction in
|
||
architectural designing.
|
||
|
||
When I left the Hansen Palace, on the SCHILLER PLATZ, I was quite
|
||
crestfallen. I felt out of sorts with myself for the first time in my
|
||
young life. For what I had heard about my capabilities now appeared to
|
||
me as a lightning flash which clearly revealed a dualism under which I
|
||
had been suffering for a long time, but hitherto I could give no clear
|
||
account whatsoever of the why and wherefore.
|
||
|
||
Within a few days I myself also knew that I ought to become an
|
||
architect. But of course the way was very difficult. I was now forced
|
||
bitterly to rue my former conduct in neglecting and despising certain
|
||
subjects at the REALSCHULE. Before taking up the courses at the School
|
||
of Architecture in the Academy it was necessary to attend the Technical
|
||
Building School; but a necessary qualification for entrance into this
|
||
school was a Leaving Certificate from the Middle School. And this I
|
||
simply did not have. According to the human measure of things my dream
|
||
of following an artistic calling seemed beyond the limits of
|
||
possibility.
|
||
|
||
After the death of my mother I came to Vienna for the third time. This
|
||
visit was destined to last several years. Since I had been there before
|
||
I had recovered my old calm and resoluteness. The former self-assurance
|
||
had come back, and I had my eyes steadily fixed on the goal. I would be
|
||
an architect. Obstacles are placed across our path in life, not to be
|
||
boggled at but to be surmounted. And I was fully determined to surmount
|
||
these obstacles, having the picture of my father constantly before my
|
||
mind, who had raised himself by his own efforts to the position of a
|
||
civil servant though he was the poor son of a village shoemaker. I had a
|
||
better start, and the possibilities of struggling through were better.
|
||
At that time my lot in life seemed to me a harsh one; but to-day I see
|
||
in it the wise workings of Providence. The Goddess of Fate clutched me
|
||
in her hands and often threatened to smash me; but the will grew
|
||
stronger as the obstacles increased, and finally the will triumphed.
|
||
|
||
I am thankful for that period of my life, because it hardened me and
|
||
enabled me to be as tough as I now am. And I am even more thankful
|
||
because I appreciate the fact that I was thus saved from the emptiness
|
||
of a life of ease and that a mother's darling was taken from tender arms
|
||
and handed over to Adversity as to a new mother. Though I then rebelled
|
||
against it as too hard a fate, I am grateful that I was thrown into a
|
||
world of misery and poverty and thus came to know the people for whom I
|
||
was afterwards to fight.
|
||
|
||
It was during this period that my eyes were opened to two perils, the
|
||
names of which I scarcely knew hitherto and had no notion whatsoever of
|
||
their terrible significance for the existence of the German people.
|
||
These two perils were Marxism and Judaism.
|
||
|
||
For many people the name of Vienna signifies innocent jollity, a festive
|
||
place for happy mortals. For me, alas, it is a living memory of the
|
||
saddest period in my life. Even to-day the mention of that city arouses
|
||
only gloomy thoughts in my mind. Five years of poverty in that Phaecian
|
||
(Note 5) town. Five years in which, first as a casual labourer and then as
|
||
a painter of little trifles, I had to earn my daily bread. And a meagre
|
||
morsel indeed it was, not even sufficient to still the hunger which I
|
||
constantly felt. That hunger was the faithful guardian which never left
|
||
me but took part in everything I did. Every book that I bought meant
|
||
renewed hunger, and every visit I paid to the opera meant the intrusion
|
||
of that inalienabl companion during the following days. I was always
|
||
struggling with my unsympathic friend. And yet during that time I
|
||
learned more than I had ever learned before. Outside my architectural
|
||
studies and rare visits to the opera, for which I had to deny myself
|
||
food, I had no other pleasure in life except my books.
|
||
|
||
[Note 5. The Phaecians were a legendary people, mentioned in Homer's
|
||
Odyssey. They were supposed to live on some unknown island in the Eastern
|
||
Mediterranean, sometimes suggested to be Corcyra, the modern Corfu. They
|
||
loved good living more than work, and so the name Phaecian has come to be
|
||
a synonym for parasite.]
|
||
|
||
I read a great deal then, and I pondered deeply over what I read. All
|
||
the free time after work was devoted exclusively to study. Thus within a
|
||
few years I was able to acquire a stock of knowledge which I find useful
|
||
even to-day.
|
||
|
||
But more than that. During those years a view of life and a definite
|
||
outlook on the world took shape in my mind. These became the granite
|
||
basis of my conduct at that time. Since then I have extended that
|
||
foundation only very little, and I have changed nothing in it.
|
||
|
||
On the contrary: I am firmly convinced to-day that, generally speaking,
|
||
it is in youth that men lay the essential groundwork of their creative
|
||
thought, wherever that creative thought exists. I make a distinction
|
||
between the wisdom of age--which can only arise from the greater
|
||
profundity and foresight that are based on the experiences of a long
|
||
life--and the creative genius of youth, which blossoms out in thought
|
||
and ideas with inexhaustible fertility, without being able to put these
|
||
into practice immediately, because of their very superabundance. These
|
||
furnish the building materials and plans for the future; and it is from
|
||
them that age takes the stones and builds the edifice, unless the
|
||
so-called wisdom of the years may have smothered the creative genius of
|
||
youth.
|
||
|
||
The life which I had hitherto led at home with my parents differed in
|
||
little or nothing from that of all the others. I looked forward without
|
||
apprehension to the morrow, and there was no such thing as a social
|
||
problem to be faced. Those among whom I passed my young days belonged to
|
||
the small bourgeois class. Therefore it was a world that had very little
|
||
contact with the world of genuine manual labourers. For, though at first
|
||
this may appear astonishing, the ditch which separates that class, which
|
||
is by no means economically well-off; from the manual labouring class is
|
||
often deeper than people think. The reason for this division, which we
|
||
may almost call enmity, lies in the fear that dominates a social group
|
||
which has only just risen above the level of the manual labourer--a fear
|
||
lest it may fall back into its old condition or at least be classed with
|
||
the labourers. Moreover, there is something repulsive in remembering the
|
||
cultural indigence of that lower class and their rough manners with one
|
||
another; so that people who are only on the first rung of the social
|
||
ladder find it unbearable to be forced to have any contact with the
|
||
cultural level and standard of living out of which they have passed.
|
||
|
||
And so it happens that very often those who belong to what can really be
|
||
called the upper classes find it much easier than do the upstarts to
|
||
descend to and intermingle with their fellow beings on the lowest social
|
||
level. For by the word upstart I mean everyone who has raised himself
|
||
through his own efforts to a social level higher than that to which he
|
||
formerly belonged. In the case of such a person the hard struggle
|
||
through which he passes often destroys his normal human sympathy. His
|
||
own fight for existence kills his sensibility for the misery of those
|
||
who have been left behind.
|
||
|
||
From this point of view fate had been kind to me. Circumstances forced
|
||
me to return to that world of poverty and economic insecurity above
|
||
which my father had raised himself in his early days; and thus the
|
||
blinkers of a narrow PETIT BOURGEOIS education were torn from my eyes.
|
||
Now for the first time I learned to know men and I learned to
|
||
distinguish between empty appearances or brutal manners and the real
|
||
inner nature of the people who outwardly appeared thus.
|
||
|
||
At the beginning of the century Vienna had already taken rank among
|
||
those cities where social conditions are iniquitous. Dazzling riches and
|
||
loathsome destitution were intermingled in violent contrast. In the
|
||
centre and in the Inner City one felt the pulse-beat of an Empire which
|
||
had a population of fifty-two millions, with all the perilous charm of a
|
||
State made up of multiple nationalities. The dazzling splendour of the
|
||
Court acted like a magnet on the wealth and intelligence of the whole
|
||
Empire. And this attraction was further strengthened by the dynastic
|
||
policy of the Habsburg Monarchy in centralizing everything in itself and
|
||
for itself.
|
||
|
||
This centralizing policy was necessary in order to hold together that
|
||
hotchpotch of heterogeneous nationalities. But the result of it was an
|
||
extraordinary concentration of higher officials in the city, which was
|
||
at one and the same time the metropolis and imperial residence.
|
||
|
||
But Vienna was not merely the political and intellectual centre of the
|
||
Danubian Monarchy; it was also the commercial centre. Besides the horde
|
||
of military officers of high rank, State officials, artists and
|
||
scientists, there was the still vaster horde of workers. Abject poverty
|
||
confronted the wealth of the aristocracy and the merchant class face to
|
||
face. Thousands of unemployed loitered in front of the palaces on the
|
||
Ring Strasse; and below that VIA TRIUMPHALIS of the old Austria the
|
||
homeless huddled together in the murk and filth of the canals.
|
||
|
||
There was hardly any other German city in which the social problem could
|
||
be studied better than in Vienna. But here I must utter a warning
|
||
against the illusion that this problem can be 'studied' from above
|
||
downwards. The man who has never been in the clutches of that crushing
|
||
viper can never know what its poison is. An attempt to study it in any
|
||
other way will result only in superficial talk and sentimental
|
||
delusions. Both are harmful. The first because it can never go to the
|
||
root of the question, the second because it evades the question
|
||
entirely. I do not know which is the more nefarious: to ignore social
|
||
distress, as do the majority of those who have been favoured by fortune
|
||
and those who have risen in the social scale through their own routine
|
||
labour, or the equally supercilious and often tactless but always
|
||
genteel condescension displayed by people who make a fad of being
|
||
charitable and who plume themselves on 'sympathising with the people.'
|
||
Of course such persons sin more than they can imagine from lack of
|
||
instinctive understanding. And thus they are astonished to find that the
|
||
'social conscience' on which they pride themselves never produces any
|
||
results, but often causes their good intentions to be resented; and then
|
||
they talk of the ingratitude of the people.
|
||
|
||
Such persons are slow to learn that here there is no place for merely
|
||
social activities and that there can be no expectation of gratitude; for
|
||
in this connection there is no question at all of distributing favours
|
||
but essentially a matter of retributive justice. I was protected against
|
||
the temptation to study the social question in the way just mentioned,
|
||
for the simple reason that I was forced to live in the midst of
|
||
poverty-stricken people. Therefore it was not a question of studying the
|
||
problem objectively, but rather one of testing its effects on myself.
|
||
Though the rabbit came through the ordeal of the experiment, this must
|
||
not be taken as evidence of its harmlessness.
|
||
|
||
When I try to-day to recall the succession of impressions received
|
||
during that time I find that I can do so only with approximate
|
||
completeness. Here I shall describe only the more essential impressions
|
||
and those which personally affected me and often staggered me. And I
|
||
shall mention the few lessons I then learned from this experience.
|
||
|
||
At that time it was for the most part not very difficult to find work,
|
||
because I had to seek work not as a skilled tradesman but as a so-called
|
||
extra-hand ready to take any job that turned up by chance, just for the
|
||
sake of earning my daily bread.
|
||
|
||
Thus I found myself in the same situation as all those emigrants who
|
||
shake the dust of Europe from their feet, with the cast-iron
|
||
determination to lay the foundations of a new existence in the New World
|
||
and acquire for themselves a new home. Liberated from all the paralysing
|
||
prejudices of class and calling, environment and tradition, they enter
|
||
any service that opens its doors to them, accepting any work that comes
|
||
their way, filled more and more with the idea that honest work never
|
||
disgraced anybody, no matter what kind it may be. And so I was resolved
|
||
to set both feet in what was for me a new world and push forward on my
|
||
own road.
|
||
|
||
I soon found out that there was some kind of work always to be got, but
|
||
I also learned that it could just as quickly and easily be lost. The
|
||
uncertainty of being able to earn a regular daily livelihood soon
|
||
appeared to me as the gloomiest feature in this new life that I had
|
||
entered.
|
||
|
||
Although the skilled worker was not so frequently thrown idle on the
|
||
streets as the unskilled worker, yet the former was by no means
|
||
protected against the same fate; because though he may not have to face
|
||
hunger as a result of unemployment due to the lack of demand in the
|
||
labour market, the lock-out and the strike deprived the skilled worker
|
||
of the chance to earn his bread. Here the element of uncertainty in
|
||
steadily earning one's daily bread was the bitterest feature of the
|
||
whole social-economic system itself.
|
||
|
||
The country lad who migrates to the big city feels attracted by what has
|
||
been described as easy work--which it may be in reality--and few working
|
||
hours. He is especially entranced by the magic glimmer spread over the
|
||
big cities. Accustomed in the country to earn a steady wage, he has been
|
||
taught not to quit his former post until a new one is at least in sight.
|
||
As there is a great scarcity of agricultural labour, the probability of
|
||
long unemployment in the country has been very small. It is a mistake to
|
||
presume that the lad who leaves the countryside for the town is not made
|
||
of such sound material as those who remain at home to work on the land.
|
||
On the contrary, experience shows that it is the more healthy and more
|
||
vigorous that emigrate, and not the reverse. Among these emigrants I
|
||
include not merely those who emigrate to America, but also the servant
|
||
boy in the country who decides to leave his native village and migrate
|
||
to the big city where he will be a stranger. He is ready to take the
|
||
risk of an uncertain fate. In most cases he comes to town with a little
|
||
money in his pocket and for the first few days he is not discouraged if
|
||
he should not have the good fortune to find work. But if he finds a job
|
||
and then loses it in a little while, the case is much worse. To find
|
||
work anew, especially in winter, is often difficult and indeed sometimes
|
||
impossible. For the first few weeks life is still bearable He receives
|
||
his out-of-work money from his trade union and is thus enabled to carry
|
||
on. But when the last of his own money is gone and his trade union
|
||
ceases to pay out because of the prolonged unemployment, then comes the
|
||
real distress. He now loiters about and is hungry. Often he pawns or
|
||
sells the last of his belongings. His clothes begin to get shabby and
|
||
with the increasing poverty of his outward appearance he descends to a
|
||
lower social level and mixes up with a class of human beings through
|
||
whom his mind is now poisoned, in addition to his physical misery. Then
|
||
he has nowhere to sleep and if that happens in winter, which is very
|
||
often the case, he is in dire distress. Finally he gets work. But the
|
||
old story repeats itself. A second time the same thing happens. Then a
|
||
third time; and now it is probably much worse. Little by little he
|
||
becomes indifferent to this everlasting insecurity. Finally he grows
|
||
used to the repetition. Thus even a man who is normally of industrious
|
||
habits grows careless in his whole attitude towards life and gradually
|
||
becomes an instrument in the hands of unscrupulous people who exploit
|
||
him for the sake of their own ignoble aims. He has been so often thrown
|
||
out of employment through no fault of his own that he is now more or
|
||
less indifferent whether the strike in which he takes part be for the
|
||
purpose of securing his economic rights or be aimed at the destruction
|
||
of the State, the whole social order and even civilization itself.
|
||
Though the idea of going on strike may not be to his natural liking, yet
|
||
he joins in it out of sheer indifference.
|
||
|
||
I saw this process exemplified before my eyes in thousands of cases. And
|
||
the longer I observed it the greater became my dislike for that mammoth
|
||
city which greedily attracts men to its bosom, in order to break them
|
||
mercilessly in the end. When they came they still felt themselves in
|
||
communion with their own people at home; if they remained that tie was
|
||
broken.
|
||
|
||
I was thrown about so much in the life of the metropolis that I
|
||
experienced the workings of this fate in my own person and felt the
|
||
effects of it in my own soul. One thing stood out clearly before my
|
||
eyes: It was the sudden changes from work to idleness and vice versa; so
|
||
that the constant fluctuations thus caused by earnings and expenditure
|
||
finally destroyed the 'sense of thrift for many people and also the
|
||
habit of regulating expenditure in an intelligent way. The body appeared
|
||
to grow accustomed to the vicissitudes of food and hunger, eating
|
||
heartily in good times and going hungry in bad. Indeed hunger shatters
|
||
all plans for rationing expenditure on a regular scale in better times
|
||
when employment is again found. The reason for this is that the
|
||
deprivations which the unemployed worker has to endure must be
|
||
compensated for psychologically by a persistent mental mirage in which
|
||
he imagines himself eating heartily once again. And this dream develops
|
||
into such a longing that it turns into a morbid impulse to cast off all
|
||
self-restraint when work and wages turn up again. Therefore the moment
|
||
work is found anew he forgets to regulate the expenditure of his
|
||
earnings but spends them to the full without thinking of to-morrow. This
|
||
leads to confusion in the little weekly housekeeping budget, because the
|
||
expenditure is not rationally planned. When the phenomenon which I have
|
||
mentioned first happens, the earnings will last perhaps for five days
|
||
instead of seven; on subsequent occasions they will last only for three
|
||
days; as the habit recurs, the earnings will last scarcely for a day;
|
||
and finally they will disappear in one night of feasting.
|
||
|
||
Often there are wife and children at home. And in many cases it happens
|
||
that these become infected by such a way of living, especially if the
|
||
husband is good to them and wants to do the best he can for them and
|
||
loves them in his own way and according to his own lights. Then the
|
||
week's earnings are spent in common at home within two or three days.
|
||
The family eat and drink together as long as the money lasts and at the
|
||
end of the week they hunger together. Then the wife wanders about
|
||
furtively in the neighbourhood, borrows a little, and runs up small
|
||
debts with the shopkeepers in an effort to pull through the lean days
|
||
towards the end of the week. They sit down together to the midday meal
|
||
with only meagre fare on the table, and often even nothing to eat. They
|
||
wait for the coming payday, talking of it and making plans; and while
|
||
they are thus hungry they dream of the plenty that is to come. And so
|
||
the little children become acquainted with misery in their early years.
|
||
|
||
But the evil culminates when the husband goes his own way from the
|
||
beginning of the week and the wife protests, simply out of love for the
|
||
children. Then there are quarrels and bad feeling and the husband takes
|
||
to drink according as he becomes estranged from his wife. He now becomes
|
||
drunk every Saturday. Fighting for her own existence and that of the
|
||
children, the wife has to hound him along the road from the factory to
|
||
the tavern in order to get a few shillings from him on payday. Then when
|
||
he finally comes home, maybe on the Sunday or the Monday, having parted
|
||
with his last shillings and pence, pitiable scenes follow, scenes that
|
||
cry out for God's mercy.
|
||
|
||
I have had actual experience of all this in hundreds of cases. At first
|
||
I was disgusted and indignant; but later on I came to recognize the
|
||
whole tragedy of their misfortune and to understand the profound causes
|
||
of it. They were the unhappy victims of evil circumstances.
|
||
|
||
Housing conditions were very bad at that time. The Vienna manual
|
||
labourers lived in surroundings of appalling misery. I shudder even
|
||
to-day when I think of the woeful dens in which people dwelt, the night
|
||
shelters and the slums, and all the tenebrous spectacles of ordure,
|
||
loathsome filth and wickedness.
|
||
|
||
What will happen one day when hordes of emancipated slaves come forth
|
||
from these dens of misery to swoop down on their unsuspecting fellow
|
||
men? For this other world does not think about such a possibility. They
|
||
have allowed these things to go on without caring and even without
|
||
suspecting--in their total lack of instinctive understanding--that
|
||
sooner or later destiny will take its vengeance unless it will have been
|
||
appeased in time.
|
||
|
||
To-day I fervidly thank Providence for having sent me to such a school.
|
||
There I could not refuse to take an interest in matters that did not
|
||
please me. This school soon taught me a profound lesson.
|
||
|
||
In order not to despair completely of the people among whom I then lived
|
||
I had to set on one side the outward appearances of their lives and on
|
||
the other the reasons why they had developed in that way. Then I could
|
||
hear everything without discouragement; for those who emerged from all
|
||
this misfortune and misery, from this filth and outward degradation,
|
||
were not human beings as such but rather lamentable results of
|
||
lamentable laws. In my own life similar hardships prevented me from
|
||
giving way to a pitying sentimentality at the sight of these degraded
|
||
products which had finally resulted from the pressure of circumstances.
|
||
No, the sentimental attitude would be the wrong one to adopt.
|
||
|
||
Even in those days I already saw that there was a two-fold method by
|
||
which alone it would be possible to bring about an amelioration of these
|
||
conditions. This method is: first, to create better fundamental
|
||
conditions of social development by establishing a profound feeling for
|
||
social responsibilities among the public; second, to combine this
|
||
feeling for social responsibilities with a ruthless determination to
|
||
prune away all excrescences which are incapable of being improved.
|
||
|
||
Just as Nature concentrates its greatest attention, not to the
|
||
maintenance of what already exists but on the selective breeding of
|
||
offspring in order to carry on the species, so in human life also it is
|
||
less a matter of artificially improving the existing generation--which,
|
||
owing to human characteristics, is impossible in ninety-nine cases out
|
||
of a hundred--and more a matter of securing from the very start a better
|
||
road for future development.
|
||
|
||
During my struggle for existence in Vienna I perceived very clearly that
|
||
the aim of all social activity must never be merely charitable relief,
|
||
which is ridiculous and useless, but it must rather be a means to find a
|
||
way of eliminating the fundamental deficiencies in our economic and
|
||
cultural life--deficiencies which necessarily bring about the
|
||
degradation of the individual or at least lead him towards such
|
||
degradation. The difficulty of employing every means, even the most
|
||
drastic, to eradicate the hostility prevailing among the working classes
|
||
towards the State is largely due to an attitude of uncertainty in
|
||
deciding upon the inner motives and causes of this contemporary
|
||
phenomenon. The grounds of this uncertainty are to be found exclusively
|
||
in the sense of guilt which each individual feels for having permitted
|
||
this tragedy of degradation. For that feeling paralyses every effort at
|
||
making a serious and firm decision to act. And thus because the people
|
||
whom it concerns are vacillating they are timid and half-hearted in
|
||
putting into effect even the measures which are indispensable for
|
||
self-preservation. When the individual is no longer burdened with his
|
||
own consciousness of blame in this regard, then and only then will he
|
||
have that inner tranquillity and outer force to cut off drastically and
|
||
ruthlessly all the parasite growth and root out the weeds.
|
||
|
||
But because the Austrian State had almost no sense of social rights or
|
||
social legislation its inability to abolish those evil excrescences was
|
||
manifest.
|
||
|
||
I do not know what it was that appalled me most at that time: the
|
||
economic misery of those who were then my companions, their crude
|
||
customs and morals, or the low level of their intellectual culture.
|
||
|
||
How often our bourgeoisie rises up in moral indignation on hearing from
|
||
the mouth of some pitiable tramp that it is all the same to him whether
|
||
he be a German or not and that he will find himself at home wherever he
|
||
can get enough to keep body and soul together. They protest sternly
|
||
against such a lack of 'national pride' and strongly express their
|
||
horror at such sentiments.
|
||
|
||
But how many people really ask themselves why it is that their own
|
||
sentiments are better? How many of them understand that their natural
|
||
pride in being members of so favoured a nation arises from the
|
||
innumerable succession of instances they have encountered which remind
|
||
them of the greatness of the Fatherland and the Nation in all spheres of
|
||
artistic and cultural life? How many of them realize that pride in the
|
||
Fatherland is largely dependent on knowledge of its greatness in all
|
||
those spheres? Do our bourgeois circles ever think what a ridiculously
|
||
meagre share the people have in that knowledge which is a necessary
|
||
prerequisite for the feeling of pride in one's fatherland?
|
||
|
||
It cannot be objected here that in other countries similar conditions
|
||
exist and that nevertheless the working classes in those countries have
|
||
remained patriotic. Even if that were so, it would be no excuse for our
|
||
negligent attitude. But it is not so. What we call chauvinistic
|
||
education--in the case of the French people, for example--is only the
|
||
excessive exaltation of the greatness of France in all spheres of
|
||
culture or, as the French say, civilization. The French boy is not
|
||
educated on purely objective principles. Wherever the importance of the
|
||
political and cultural greatness of his country is concerned he is
|
||
taught in the most subjective way that one can imagine.
|
||
|
||
This education will always have to be confined to general ideas in a
|
||
large perspective and these ought to be deeply engraven, by constant
|
||
repetition if necessary, on the memories and feelings of the people.
|
||
|
||
In our case, however, we are not merely guilty of negative sins of
|
||
omission but also of positively perverting the little which some
|
||
individuals had the luck to learn at school. The rats that poison our
|
||
body-politic gnaw from the hearts and memories of the broad masses even
|
||
that little which distress and misery have left.
|
||
|
||
Let the reader try to picture the following:
|
||
|
||
There is a lodging in a cellar and this lodging consists of two damp
|
||
rooms. In these rooms a workman and his family live--seven people in
|
||
all. Let us assume that one of the children is a boy of three years.
|
||
That is the age at which children first become conscious of the
|
||
impressions which they receive. In the case of highly gifted people
|
||
traces of the impressions received in those early years last in the
|
||
memory up to an advanced age. Now the narrowness and congestion of those
|
||
living quarters do not conduce to pleasant inter-relations. Thus
|
||
quarrels and fits of mutual anger arise. These people can hardly be said
|
||
to live with one another, but rather down on top of one another. The
|
||
small misunderstandings which disappear of themselves in a home where
|
||
there is enough space for people to go apart from one another for a
|
||
while, here become the source of chronic disputes. As far as the
|
||
children are concerned the situation is tolerable from this point of
|
||
view. In such conditions they are constantly quarrelling with one
|
||
another, but the quarrels are quickly and entirely forgotten. But when
|
||
the parents fall out with one another these daily bickerings often
|
||
descend to rudeness such as cannot be adequately imagined. The results
|
||
of such experiences must become apparent later on in the children. One
|
||
must have practical experience of such a MILIEU so as to be able to
|
||
picture the state of affairs that arises from these mutual
|
||
recriminations when the father physically assaults the mother and
|
||
maltreats her in a fit of drunken rage. At the age of six the child can
|
||
no longer ignore those sordid details which even an adult would find
|
||
revolting. Infected with moral poison, bodily undernourished, and the
|
||
poor little head filled with vermin, the young 'citizen' goes to the
|
||
primary school. With difficulty he barely learns to read and write.
|
||
There is no possibility of learning any lessons at home. Quite the
|
||
contrary. The father and mother themselves talk before the children in
|
||
the most disparaging way about the teacher and the school and they are
|
||
much more inclined to insult the teachers than to put their offspring
|
||
across the knee and knock sound reason into him. What the little fellow
|
||
hears at home does not tend to increase respect for his human
|
||
surroundings. Here nothing good is said of human nature as a whole and
|
||
every institution, from the school to the government, is reviled.
|
||
Whether religion and morals are concerned or the State and the social
|
||
order, it is all the same; they are all scoffed at. When the young lad
|
||
leaves school, at the age of fourteen, it would be difficult to say what
|
||
are the most striking features of his character, incredible ignorance in
|
||
so far as real knowledge is concerned or cynical impudence combined with
|
||
an attitude towards morality which is really startling at so young an
|
||
age.
|
||
|
||
What station in life can such a person fill, to whom nothing is sacred,
|
||
who has never experienced anything noble but, on the contrary, has been
|
||
intimately acquainted with the lowest kind of human existence? This
|
||
child of three has got into the habit of reviling all authority by the
|
||
time he is fifteen. He has been acquainted only with moral filth and
|
||
vileness, everything being excluded that might stimulate his thought
|
||
towards higher things. And now this young specimen of humanity enters
|
||
the school of life.
|
||
|
||
He leads the same kind of life which was exemplified for him by his
|
||
father during his childhood. He loiters about and comes home at all
|
||
hours. He now even black-guards that broken-hearted being who gave him
|
||
birth. He curses God and the world and finally ends up in a House of
|
||
Correction for young people. There he gets the final polish.
|
||
|
||
And his bourgeois contemporaries are astonished at the lack of
|
||
'patriotic enthusiasm' which this young 'citizen' manifests.
|
||
|
||
Day after day the bourgeois world are witnesses to the phenomenon of
|
||
spreading poison among the people through the instrumentality of the
|
||
theatre and the cinema, gutter journalism and obscene books; and yet
|
||
they are astonished at the deplorable 'moral standards' and 'national
|
||
indifference' of the masses. As if the cinema bilge and the gutter press
|
||
and suchlike could inculcate knowledge of the greatness of one's
|
||
country, apart entirely from the earlier education of the individual.
|
||
|
||
I then came to understand, quickly and thoroughly, what I had never been
|
||
aware of before. It was the following:
|
||
|
||
The question of 'nationalizing' a people is first and foremost one of
|
||
establishing healthy social conditions which will furnish the grounds
|
||
that are necessary for the education of the individual. For only when
|
||
family upbringing and school education have inculcated in the individual
|
||
a knowledge of the cultural and economic and, above all, the political
|
||
greatness of his own country--then, and then only, will it be possible
|
||
for him to feel proud of being a citizen of such a country. I can fight
|
||
only for something that I love. I can love only what I respect. And in
|
||
order to respect a thing I must at least have some knowledge of it.
|
||
|
||
As soon as my interest in social questions was once awakened I began to
|
||
study them in a fundamental way. A new and hitherto unknown world was
|
||
thus revealed to me.
|
||
|
||
In the years 1909-10 I had so far improved my, position that I no longer
|
||
had to earn my daily bread as a manual labourer. I was now working
|
||
independently as draughtsman, and painter in water colours. This M<>TIER
|
||
was a poor one indeed as far as earnings were concerned; for these were
|
||
only sufficient to meet the bare exigencies of life. Yet it had an
|
||
interest for me in view of the profession to which I aspired. Moreover,
|
||
when I came home in the evenings I was now no longer dead-tired as
|
||
formerly, when I used to be unable to look into a book without falling
|
||
asleep almost immediately. My present occupation therefore was in line
|
||
with the profession I aimed at for the future. Moreover, I was master of
|
||
my own time and could distribute my working-hours now better than
|
||
formerly. I painted in order to earn my bread, and I studied because I
|
||
liked it.
|
||
|
||
Thus I was able to acquire that theoretical knowledge of the social
|
||
problem which was a necessary complement to what I was learning through
|
||
actual experience. I studied all the books which I could find that dealt
|
||
with this question and I thought deeply on what I read. I think that the
|
||
MILIEU in which I then lived considered me an eccentric person.
|
||
|
||
Besides my interest in the social question I naturally devoted myself
|
||
with enthusiasm to the study of architecture. Side by side with music, I
|
||
considered it queen of the arts. To study it was for me not work but
|
||
pleasure. I could read or draw until the small hours of the morning
|
||
without ever getting tired. And I became more and more confident that my
|
||
dream of a brilliant future would become true, even though I should have
|
||
to wait long years for its fulfilment. I was firmly convinced that one
|
||
day I should make a name for myself as an architect.
|
||
|
||
The fact that, side by side with my professional studies, I took the
|
||
greatest interest in everything that had to do with politics did not
|
||
seem to me to signify anything of great importance. On the contrary: I
|
||
looked upon this practical interest in politics merely as part of an
|
||
elementary obligation that devolves on every thinking man. Those who
|
||
have no understanding of the political world around them have no right
|
||
to criticize or complain. On political questions therefore I still
|
||
continued to read and study a great deal. But reading had probably a
|
||
different significance for me from that which it has for the average run
|
||
of our so-called 'intellectuals'.
|
||
|
||
I know people who read interminably, book after book, from page to page,
|
||
and yet I should not call them 'well-read people'. Of course they 'know'
|
||
an immense amount; but their brain seems incapable of assorting and
|
||
classifying the material which they have gathered from books. They have
|
||
not the faculty of distinguishing between what is useful and useless in
|
||
a book; so that they may retain the former in their minds and if
|
||
possible skip over the latter while reading it, if that be not possible,
|
||
then--when once read--throw it overboard as useless ballast. Reading is
|
||
not an end in itself, but a means to an end. Its chief purpose is to
|
||
help towards filling in the framework which is made up of the talents
|
||
and capabilities that each individual possesses. Thus each one procures
|
||
for himself the implements and materials necessary for the fulfilment of
|
||
his calling in life, no matter whether this be the elementary task of
|
||
earning one's daily bread or a calling that responds to higher human
|
||
aspirations. Such is the first purpose of reading. And the second
|
||
purpose is to give a general knowledge of the world in which we live. In
|
||
both cases, however, the material which one has acquired through reading
|
||
must not be stored up in the memory on a plan that corresponds to the
|
||
successive chapters of the book; but each little piece of knowledge thus
|
||
gained must be treated as if it were a little stone to be inserted into
|
||
a mosaic, so that it finds its proper place among all the other pieces
|
||
and particles that help to form a general world-picture in the brain of
|
||
the reader. Otherwise only a confused jumble of chaotic notions will
|
||
result from all this reading. That jumble is not merely useless, but it
|
||
also tends to make the unfortunate possessor of it conceited. For he
|
||
seriously considers himself a well-educated person and thinks that he
|
||
understands something of life. He believes that he has acquired
|
||
knowledge, whereas the truth is that every increase in such 'knowledge'
|
||
draws him more and more away from real life, until he finally ends up in
|
||
some sanatorium or takes to politics and becomes a parliamentary deputy.
|
||
|
||
Such a person never succeeds in turning his knowledge to practical
|
||
account when the opportune moment arrives; for his mental equipment is
|
||
not ordered with a view to meeting the demands of everyday life. His
|
||
knowledge is stored in his brain as a literal transcript of the books he
|
||
has read and the order of succession in which he has read them. And if
|
||
Fate should one day call upon him to use some of his book-knowledge for
|
||
certain practical ends in life that very call will have to name the book
|
||
and give the number of the page; for the poor noodle himself would never
|
||
be able to find the spot where he gathered the information now called
|
||
for. But if the page is not mentioned at the critical moment the
|
||
widely-read intellectual will find himself in a state of hopeless
|
||
embarrassment. In a high state of agitation he searches for analogous
|
||
cases and it is almost a dead certainty that he will finally deliver the
|
||
wrong prescription.
|
||
|
||
If that is not a correct description, then how can we explain the
|
||
political achievements of our Parliamentary heroes who hold the highest
|
||
positions in the government of the country? Otherwise we should have to
|
||
attribute the doings of such political leaders, not to pathological
|
||
conditions but simply to malice and chicanery.
|
||
|
||
On the other hand, one who has cultivated the art of reading will
|
||
instantly discern, in a book or journal or pamphlet, what ought to be
|
||
remembered because it meets one's personal needs or is of value as
|
||
general knowledge. What he thus learns is incorporated in his mental
|
||
analogue of this or that problem or thing, further correcting the mental
|
||
picture or enlarging it so that it becomes more exact and precise.
|
||
Should some practical problem suddenly demand examination or solution,
|
||
memory will immediately select the opportune information from the mass
|
||
that has been acquired through years of reading and will place this
|
||
information at the service of one's powers of judgment so as to get a
|
||
new and clearer view of the problem in question or produce a definitive
|
||
solution.
|
||
|
||
Only thus can reading have any meaning or be worth while.
|
||
|
||
The speaker, for example, who has not the sources of information ready
|
||
to hand which are necessary to a proper treatment of his subject is
|
||
unable to defend his opinions against an opponent, even though those
|
||
opinions be perfectly sound and true. In every discussion his memory
|
||
will leave him shamefully in the lurch. He cannot summon up arguments to
|
||
support his statements or to refute his opponent. So long as the speaker
|
||
has only to defend himself on his own personal account, the situation is
|
||
not serious; but the evil comes when Chance places at the head of public
|
||
affairs such a soi-disant know-it-all, who in reality knows nothing.
|
||
|
||
From early youth I endeavoured to read books in the right way and I was
|
||
fortunate in having a good memory and intelligence to assist me. From
|
||
that point of view my sojourn in Vienna was particularly useful and
|
||
profitable. My experiences of everyday life there were a constant
|
||
stimulus to study the most diverse problems from new angles. Inasmuch as
|
||
I was in a position to put theory to the test of reality and reality to
|
||
the test of theory, I was safe from the danger of pedantic theorizing on
|
||
the one hand and, on the other, from being too impressed by the
|
||
superficial aspects of reality.
|
||
|
||
The experience of everyday life at that time determined me to make a
|
||
fundamental theoretical study of two most important questions outside of
|
||
the social question.
|
||
|
||
It is impossible to say when I might have started to make a thorough
|
||
study of the doctrine and characteristics of Marxism were it not for the
|
||
fact that I then literally ran head foremost into the problem.
|
||
|
||
What I knew of Social Democracy in my youth was precious little and that
|
||
little was for the most part wrong. The fact that it led the struggle
|
||
for universal suffrage and the secret ballot gave me an inner
|
||
satisfaction; for my reason then told me that this would weaken the
|
||
Habsburg regime, which I so thoroughly detested. I was convinced that
|
||
even if it should sacrifice the German element the Danubian State could
|
||
not continue to exist. Even at the price of a long and slow Slaviz-ation
|
||
of the Austrian Germans the State would secure no guarantee of a really
|
||
durable Empire; because it was very questionable if and how far the
|
||
Slavs possessed the necessary capacity for constructive politics.
|
||
Therefore I welcomed every movement that might lead towards the final
|
||
disruption of that impossible State which had decreed that it would
|
||
stamp out the German character in ten millions of people. The more this
|
||
babel of tongues wrought discord and disruption, even in the Parliament,
|
||
the nearer the hour approached for the dissolution of this Babylonian
|
||
Empire. That would mean the liberation of my German Austrian people, and
|
||
only then would it become possible for them to be re-united to the
|
||
Motherland.
|
||
|
||
Accordingly I had no feelings of antipathy towards the actual policy of
|
||
the Social Democrats. That its avowed purpose was to raise the level of
|
||
the working classes--which in my ignorance I then foolishly
|
||
believed--was a further reason why I should speak in favour of Social
|
||
Democracy rather than against it. But the features that contributed most
|
||
to estrange me from the Social Democratic movement was its hostile
|
||
attitude towards the struggle for the conservation of Germanism in
|
||
Austria, its lamentable cocotting with the Slav 'comrades', who received
|
||
these approaches favourably as long as any practical advantages were
|
||
forthcoming but otherwise maintained a haughty reserve, thus giving the
|
||
importunate mendicants the sort of answer their behaviour deserved.
|
||
|
||
And so at the age of seventeen the word 'Marxism' was very little known
|
||
to me, while I looked on 'Social Democracy' and 'Socialism' as
|
||
synonymous expressions. It was only as the result of a sudden blow from
|
||
the rough hand of Fate that my eyes were opened to the nature of this
|
||
unparalleled system for duping the public.
|
||
|
||
Hitherto my acquaintance with the Social Democratic Party was only that
|
||
of a mere spectator at some of their mass meetings. I had not the
|
||
slightest idea of the social-democratic teaching or the mentality of its
|
||
partisans. All of a sudden I was brought face to face with the products
|
||
of their teaching and what they called their WELTANSCHAUUNG. In this
|
||
way a few months sufficed for me to learn something which under other
|
||
circumstances might have necessitated decades of study--namely, that
|
||
under the cloak of social virtue and love of one's neighbour a veritable
|
||
pestilence was spreading abroad and that if this pestilence be not
|
||
stamped out of the world without delay it may eventually succeed in
|
||
exterminating the human race.
|
||
|
||
I first came into contact with the Social Democrats while working in the
|
||
building trade.
|
||
|
||
From the very time that I started work the situation was not very
|
||
pleasant for me. My clothes were still rather decent. I was careful of
|
||
my speech and I was reserved in manner. I was so occupied with thinking
|
||
of my own present lot and future possibilities that I did not take much
|
||
of an interest in my immediate surroundings. I had sought work so that I
|
||
shouldn't starve and at the same time so as to be able to make further
|
||
headway with my studies, though this headway might be slow. Possibly I
|
||
should not have bothered to be interested in my companions were it not
|
||
that on the third or fourth day an event occurred which forced me to
|
||
take a definite stand. I was ordered to join the trade union.
|
||
|
||
At that time I knew nothing about the trades unions. I had had no
|
||
opportunity of forming an opinion on their utility or inutility, as the
|
||
case might be. But when I was told that I must join the union I refused.
|
||
The grounds which I gave for my refusal were simply that I knew nothing
|
||
about the matter and that anyhow I would not allow myself to be forced
|
||
into anything. Probably the former reason saved me from being thrown out
|
||
right away. They probably thought that within a few days I might be
|
||
converted' and become more docile. But if they thought that they were
|
||
profoundly mistaken. After two weeks I found it utterly impossible for
|
||
me to take such a step, even if I had been willing to take it at first.
|
||
During those fourteen days I came to know my fellow workmen better, and
|
||
no power in the world could have moved me to join an organization whose
|
||
representatives had meanwhile shown themselves in a light which I found
|
||
so unfavourable.
|
||
|
||
During the first days my resentment was aroused.
|
||
|
||
At midday some of my fellow workers used to adjourn to the nearest
|
||
tavern, while the others remained on the building premises and there ate
|
||
their midday meal, which in most cases was a very scanty one. These were
|
||
married men. Their wives brought them the midday soup in dilapidated
|
||
vessels. Towards the end of the week there was a gradual increase in the
|
||
number of those who remained to eat their midday meal on the building
|
||
premises. I understood the reason for this afterwards. They now talked
|
||
politics.
|
||
|
||
I drank my bottle of milk and ate my morsel of bread somewhere on the
|
||
outskirts, while I circumspectly studied my environment or else fell to
|
||
meditating on my own harsh lot. Yet I heard more than enough. And I
|
||
often thought that some of what they said was meant for my ears, in the
|
||
hope of bringing me to a decision. But all that I heard had the effect
|
||
of arousing the strongest antagonism in me. Everything was
|
||
disparaged--the nation, because it was held to be an invention of the
|
||
'capitalist' class (how often I had to listen to that phrase!); the
|
||
Fatherland, because it was held to be an instrument in the hands of the
|
||
bourgeoisie for the exploitation of' the working masses; the authority
|
||
of the law, because that was a means of holding down the proletariat;
|
||
religion, as a means of doping the people, so as to exploit them
|
||
afterwards; morality, as a badge of stupid and sheepish docility. There
|
||
was nothing that they did not drag in the mud.
|
||
|
||
At first I remained silent; but that could not last very long. Then I
|
||
began to take part in the discussion and to reply to their statements. I
|
||
had to recognize, however, that this was bound to be entirely fruitless,
|
||
as long as I did not have at least a certain amount of definite
|
||
information about the questions that were discussed. So I decided to
|
||
consult the source from which my interlocutors claimed to have drawn
|
||
their so-called wisdom. I devoured book after book, pamphlet after
|
||
pamphlet.
|
||
|
||
Meanwhile, we argued with one another on the building premises. From day
|
||
to day I was becoming better informed than my companions in the subjects
|
||
on which they claimed to be experts. Then a day came when the more
|
||
redoubtable of my adversaries resorted to the most effective weapon they
|
||
had to replace the force of reason. This was intimidation and physical
|
||
force. Some of the leaders among my adversaries ordered me to leave the
|
||
building or else get flung down from the scaffolding. As I was quite
|
||
alone I could not put up any physical resistance; so I chose the first
|
||
alternative and departed, richer however by an experience.
|
||
|
||
I went away full of disgust; but at the same time so deeply moved that
|
||
it was quite impossible for me to turn my back on the whole situation
|
||
and think no more about it. When my anger began to calm down the spirit
|
||
of obstinacy got the upper hand and I decided that at all costs I would
|
||
get back to work again in the building trade. This decision became all
|
||
the stronger a few weeks later, when my little savings had entirely run
|
||
out and hunger clutched me once again in its merciless arms. No
|
||
alternative was left to me. I got work again and had to leave it for the
|
||
same reasons as before.
|
||
|
||
Then I asked myself: Are these men worthy of belonging to a great
|
||
people? The question was profoundly disturbing; for if the answer were
|
||
'Yes', then the struggle to defend one's nationality is no longer worth
|
||
all the trouble and sacrifice we demand of our best elements if it be in
|
||
the interests of such a rabble. On the other hand, if the answer had to
|
||
be 'No--these men are not worthy of the nation', then our nation is poor
|
||
indeed in men. During those days of mental anguish and deep meditation I
|
||
saw before my mind the ever-increasing and menacing army of people who
|
||
could no longer be reckoned as belonging to their own nation.
|
||
|
||
It was with quite a different feeling, some days later, that I gazed on
|
||
the interminable ranks, four abreast, of Viennese workmen parading at a
|
||
mass demonstration. I stood dumbfounded for almost two hours, watching
|
||
that enormous human dragon which slowly uncoiled itself there before me.
|
||
When I finally left the square and wandered in the direction of my
|
||
lodgings I felt dismayed and depressed. On my way I noticed the
|
||
ARBEITERZEITUNG (The Workman's Journal) in a tobacco shop. This was the
|
||
chief press-organ of the old Austrian Social Democracy. In a cheap caf<61>,
|
||
where the common people used to foregather and where I often went to
|
||
read the papers, the ARBEITERZEITUNG was also displayed. But hitherto I
|
||
could not bring myself to do more than glance at the wretched thing for
|
||
a couple of minutes: for its whole tone was a sort of mental vitriol to
|
||
me. Under the depressing influence of the demonstration I had witnessed,
|
||
some interior voice urged me to buy the paper in that tobacco shop and
|
||
read it through. So I brought it home with me and spent the whole
|
||
evening reading it, despite the steadily mounting rage provoked by this
|
||
ceaseless outpouring of falsehoods.
|
||
|
||
I now found that in the social democratic daily papers I could study the
|
||
inner character of this politico-philosophic system much better than in
|
||
all their theoretical literature.
|
||
|
||
For there was a striking discrepancy between the two. In the literary
|
||
effusions which dealt with the theory of Social Democracy there was a
|
||
display of high-sounding phraseology about liberty and human dignity and
|
||
beauty, all promulgated with an air of profound wisdom and serene
|
||
prophetic assurance; a meticulously-woven glitter of words to dazzle and
|
||
mislead the reader. On the other hand, the daily Press inculcated this
|
||
new doctrine of human redemption in the most brutal fashion. No means
|
||
were too base, provided they could be exploited in the campaign of
|
||
slander. These journalists were real virtuosos in the art of twisting
|
||
facts and presenting them in a deceptive form. The theoretical
|
||
literature was intended for the simpletons of the soi-disant
|
||
intellectuals belonging to the middle and, naturally, the upper classes.
|
||
The newspaper propaganda was intended for the masses.
|
||
|
||
This probing into books and newspapers and studying the teachings of
|
||
Social Democracy reawakened my love for my own people. And thus what at
|
||
first seemed an impassable chasm became the occasion of a closer
|
||
affection.
|
||
|
||
Having once understood the working of the colossal system for poisoning
|
||
the popular mind, only a fool could blame the victims of it. During the
|
||
years that followed I became more independent and, as I did so, I became
|
||
better able to understand the inner cause of the success achieved by
|
||
this Social Democratic gospel. I now realized the meaning and purpose of
|
||
those brutal orders which prohibited the reading of all books and
|
||
newspapers that were not 'red' and at the same time demanded that only
|
||
the 'red' meetings should be attended. In the clear light of brutal
|
||
reality I was able to see what must have been the inevitable
|
||
consequences of that intolerant teaching.
|
||
|
||
The PSYCHE of the broad masses is accessible only to what is strong and
|
||
uncompromising. Like a woman whose inner sensibilities are not so much
|
||
under the sway of abstract reasoning but are always subject to the
|
||
influence of a vague emotional longing for the strength that completes
|
||
her being, and who would rather bow to the strong man than dominate the
|
||
weakling--in like manner the masses of the people prefer the ruler to
|
||
the suppliant and are filled with a stronger sense of mental security by
|
||
a teaching that brooks no rival than by a teaching which offers them a
|
||
liberal choice. They have very little idea of how to make such a choice
|
||
and thus they are prone to feel that they have been abandoned. They feel
|
||
very little shame at being terrorized intellectually and they are
|
||
scarcely conscious of the fact that their freedom as human beings is
|
||
impudently abused; and thus they have not the slightest suspicion of the
|
||
intrinsic fallacy of the whole doctrine. They see only the ruthless
|
||
force and brutality of its determined utterances, to which they always
|
||
submit.
|
||
|
||
IF SOCIAL DEMOCRACY SHOULD BE OPPOSED BY A MORE TRUTHFUL TEACHING, THEN
|
||
EVEN, THOUGH THE STRUGGLE BE OF THE BITTEREST KIND, THIS TRUTHFUL
|
||
TEACHING WILL FINALLY PREVAIL PROVIDED IT BE ENFORCED WITH EQUAL
|
||
RUTHLESSNESS.
|
||
|
||
Within less than two years I had gained a clear understanding of Social
|
||
Democracy, in its teaching and the technique of its operations.
|
||
|
||
I recognized the infamy of that technique whereby the movement carried
|
||
on a campaign of mental terrorism against the bourgeoisie, who are
|
||
neither morally nor spiritually equipped to withstand such attacks. The
|
||
tactics of Social Democracy consisted in opening, at a given signal, a
|
||
veritable drum-fire of lies and calumnies against the man whom they
|
||
believed to be the most redoubtable of their adversaries, until the
|
||
nerves of the latter gave way and they sacrificed the man who was
|
||
attacked, simply in the hope of being allowed to live in peace. But the
|
||
hope proved always to be a foolish one, for they were never left in
|
||
peace.
|
||
|
||
The same tactics are repeated again and again, until fear of these mad
|
||
dogs exercises, through suggestion, a paralysing effect on their
|
||
Victims.
|
||
|
||
Through its own experience Social Democracy learned the value of
|
||
strength, and for that reason it attacks mostly those in whom it scents
|
||
stuff of the more stalwart kind, which is indeed a very rare possession.
|
||
On the other hand it praises every weakling among its adversaries, more
|
||
or less cautiously, according to the measure of his mental qualities
|
||
known or presumed. They have less fear of a man of genius who lacks
|
||
will-power than of a vigorous character with mediocre intelligence and
|
||
at the same time they highly commend those who are devoid of
|
||
intelligence and will-power.
|
||
|
||
The Social Democrats know how to create the impression that they alone
|
||
are the protectors of peace. In this way, acting very circumspectly but
|
||
never losing sight of their ultimate goal, they conquer one position
|
||
after another, at one time by methods of quiet intimidation and at
|
||
another time by sheer daylight robbery, employing these latter tactics
|
||
at those moments when public attention is turned towards other matters
|
||
from which it does not wish to be diverted, or when the public considers
|
||
an incident too trivial to create a scandal about it and thus provoke
|
||
the anger of a malignant opponent.
|
||
|
||
These tactics are based on an accurate estimation of human frailties and
|
||
must lead to success, with almost mathematical certainty, unless the
|
||
other side also learns how to fight poison gas with poison gas. The
|
||
weaker natures must be told that here it is a case of to be or not to
|
||
be.
|
||
|
||
I also came to understand that physical intimidation has its
|
||
significance for the mass as well as for the individual. Here again the
|
||
Socialists had calculated accurately on the psychological effect.
|
||
|
||
Intimidation in workshops and in factories, in assembly halls and at
|
||
mass demonstrations, will always meet with success as long as it does
|
||
not have to encounter the same kind of terror in a stronger form.
|
||
|
||
Then of course the Party will raise a horrified outcry, yelling blue
|
||
murder and appealing to the authority of the State, which they have just
|
||
repudiated. In doing this their aim generally is to add to the general
|
||
confusion, so that they may have a better opportunity of reaching their
|
||
own goal unobserved. Their idea is to find among the higher government
|
||
officials some bovine creature who, in the stupid hope that he may win
|
||
the good graces of these awe-inspiring opponents so that they may
|
||
remember him in case of future eventualities, will help them now to
|
||
break all those who may oppose this world pest.
|
||
|
||
The impression which such successful tactics make on the minds of the
|
||
broad masses, whether they be adherents or opponents, can be estimated
|
||
only by one who knows the popular mind, not from books but from
|
||
practical life. For the successes which are thus obtained are taken by
|
||
the adherents of Social Democracy as a triumphant symbol of the
|
||
righteousness of their own cause; on the other hand the beaten opponent
|
||
very often loses faith in the effectiveness of any further resistance.
|
||
|
||
The more I understood the methods of physical intimidation that were
|
||
employed, the more sympathy I had for the multitude that had succumbed
|
||
to it.
|
||
|
||
I am thankful now for the ordeal which I had to go through at that time;
|
||
for it was the means of bringing me to think kindly again of my own
|
||
people, inasmuch as the experience enabled me to distinguish between the
|
||
false leaders and the victims who have been led astray.
|
||
|
||
We must look upon the latter simply as victims. I have just now tried to
|
||
depict a few traits which express the mentality of those on the lowest
|
||
rung of the social ladder; but my picture would be disproportionate if I
|
||
do not add that amid the social depths I still found light; for I
|
||
experienced a rare spirit of self-sacrifice and loyal comradeship among
|
||
those men, who demanded little from life and were content amid their
|
||
modest surroundings. This was true especially of the older generation of
|
||
workmen. And although these qualities were disappearing more and more in
|
||
the younger generation, owing to the all-pervading influence of the big
|
||
city, yet among the younger generation also there were many who were
|
||
sound at the core and who were able to maintain themselves
|
||
uncontaminated amid the sordid surroundings of their everyday existence.
|
||
If these men, who in many cases meant well and were upright in
|
||
themselves, gave the support to the political activities carried on by
|
||
the common enemies of our people, that was because those decent
|
||
workpeople did not and could not grasp the downright infamy of the
|
||
doctrine taught by the socialist agitators. Furthermore, it was because
|
||
no other section of the community bothered itself about the lot of the
|
||
working classes. Finally, the social conditions became such that men who
|
||
otherwise would have acted differently were forced to submit to them,
|
||
even though unwillingly at first. A day came when poverty gained the
|
||
upper hand and drove those workmen into the Social Democratic ranks.
|
||
|
||
On innumerable occasions the bourgeoisie took a definite stand against
|
||
even the most legitimate human demands of the working classes. That
|
||
conduct was ill-judged and indeed immoral and could bring no gain
|
||
whatsoever to the bourgeois class. The result was that the honest
|
||
workman abandoned the original concept of the trades union organization
|
||
and was dragged into politics.
|
||
|
||
There were millions and millions of workmen who began by being hostile
|
||
to the Social Democratic Party; but their defences were repeatedly
|
||
stormed and finally they had to surrender. Yet this defeat was due to
|
||
the stupidity of the bourgeois parties, who had opposed every social
|
||
demand put forward by the working class. The short-sighted refusal to
|
||
make an effort towards improving labour conditions, the refusal to adopt
|
||
measures which would insure the workman in case of accidents in the
|
||
factories, the refusal to forbid child labour, the refusal to consider
|
||
protective measures for female workers, especially expectant
|
||
mothers--all this was of assistance to the Social Democratic leaders,
|
||
who were thankful for every opportunity which they could exploit for
|
||
forcing the masses into their net. Our bourgeois parties can never
|
||
repair the damage that resulted from the mistake they then made. For
|
||
they sowed the seeds of hatred when they opposed all efforts at social
|
||
reform. And thus they gave, at least, apparent grounds to justify the
|
||
claim put forward by the Social Democrats--namely, that they alone stand
|
||
up for the interests of the working class.
|
||
|
||
And this became the principal ground for the moral justification of the
|
||
actual existence of the Trades Unions, so that the labour organization
|
||
became from that time onwards the chief political recruiting ground to
|
||
swell the ranks of the Social Democratic Party.
|
||
|
||
While thus studying the social conditions around me I was forced,
|
||
whether I liked it or not, to decide on the attitude I should take
|
||
towards the Trades Unions. Because I looked upon them as inseparable
|
||
from the Social Democratic Party, my decision was hasty--and mistaken. I
|
||
repudiated them as a matter of course. But on this essential question
|
||
also Fate intervened and gave me a lesson, with the result that I
|
||
changed the opinion which I had first formed.
|
||
|
||
When I was twenty years old I had learned to distinguish between the
|
||
Trades Union as a means of defending the social rights of the employees
|
||
and fighting for better living conditions for them and, on the other
|
||
hand, the Trades Union as a political instrument used by the Party in
|
||
the class struggle.
|
||
|
||
The Social Democrats understood the enormous importance of the Trades
|
||
Union movement. They appropriated it as an instrument and used it with
|
||
success, while the bourgeois parties failed to understand it and thus
|
||
lost their political prestige. They thought that their own arrogant VETO
|
||
would arrest the logical development of the movement and force it into
|
||
an illogical position. But it is absurd and also untrue to say that the
|
||
Trades Union movement is in itself hostile to the nation. The opposite
|
||
is the more correct view. If the activities of the Trades Union are
|
||
directed towards improving the condition of a class, and succeed in
|
||
doing so, such activities are not against the Fatherland or the State
|
||
but are, in the truest sense of the word, national. In that way the
|
||
trades union organization helps to create the social conditions which
|
||
are indispensable in a general system of national education. It deserves
|
||
high recognition when it destroys the psychological and physical germs
|
||
of social disease and thus fosters the general welfare of the nation.
|
||
|
||
It is superfluous to ask whether the Trades Union is indispensable.
|
||
|
||
So long as there are employers who attack social understanding and have
|
||
wrong ideas of justice and fair play it is not only the right but also
|
||
the duty of their employees--who are, after all, an integral part of our
|
||
people--to protect the general interests against the greed and unreason
|
||
of the individual. For to safeguard the loyalty and confidence of the
|
||
people is as much in the interests of the nation as to safeguard public
|
||
health.
|
||
|
||
Both are seriously menaced by dishonourable employers who are not
|
||
conscious of their duty as members of the national community. Their
|
||
personal avidity or irresponsibility sows the seeds of future trouble.
|
||
To eliminate the causes of such a development is an action that surely
|
||
deserves well of the country.
|
||
|
||
It must not be answered here that the individual workman is free at any
|
||
time to escape from the consequences of an injustice which he has
|
||
actually suffered at the hands of an employer, or which he thinks he has
|
||
suffered--in other words, he can leave. No. That argument is only a ruse
|
||
to detract attention from the question at issue. Is it, or is it not, in
|
||
the interests of the nation to remove the causes of social unrest? If it
|
||
is, then the fight must be carried on with the only weapons that promise
|
||
success. But the individual workman is never in a position to stand up
|
||
against the might of the big employer; for the question here is not one
|
||
that concerns the triumph of right. If in such a relation right had been
|
||
recognized as the guiding principle, then the conflict could not have
|
||
arisen at all. But here it is a question of who is the stronger. If the
|
||
case were otherwise, the sentiment of justice alone would solve the
|
||
dispute in an honourable way; or, to put the case more correctly,
|
||
matters would not have come to such a dispute at all.
|
||
|
||
No. If unsocial and dishonourable treatment of men provokes resistance,
|
||
then the stronger party can impose its decision in the conflict until
|
||
the constitutional legislative authorities do away with the evil through
|
||
legislation. Therefore it is evident that if the individual workman is
|
||
to have any chance at all of winning through in the struggle he must be
|
||
grouped with his fellow workmen and present a united front before the
|
||
individual employer, who incorporates in his own person the massed
|
||
strength of the vested interests in the industrial or commercial
|
||
undertaking which he conducts.
|
||
|
||
Thus the trades unions can hope to inculcate and strengthen a sense of
|
||
social responsibility in workaday life and open the road to practical
|
||
results. In doing this they tend to remove those causes of friction
|
||
which are a continual source of discontent and complaint.
|
||
|
||
Blame for the fact that the trades unions do not fulfil this
|
||
much-desired function must be laid at the doors of those who barred the
|
||
road to legislative social reform, or rendered such a reform ineffective
|
||
by sabotaging it through their political influence.
|
||
|
||
The political bourgeoisie failed to understand--or, rather, they did not
|
||
wish to understand--the importance of the trades union movement. The
|
||
Social Democrats accordingly seized the advantage offered them by this
|
||
mistaken policy and took the labour movement under their exclusive
|
||
protection, without any protest from the other side. In this way they
|
||
established for themselves a solid bulwark behind which they could
|
||
safely retire whenever the struggle assumed a critical aspect. Thus the
|
||
genuine purpose of the movement gradually fell into oblivion, and was
|
||
replaced by new objectives. For the Social Democrats never troubled
|
||
themselves to respect and uphold the original purpose for which the
|
||
trade unionist movement was founded. They simply took over the Movement,
|
||
lock, stock and barrel, to serve their own political ends.
|
||
|
||
Within a few decades the Trades Union Movement was transformed, by the
|
||
expert hand of Social Democracy, from an instrument which had been
|
||
originally fashioned for the defence of human rights into an instrument
|
||
for the destruction of the national economic structure. The interests of
|
||
the working class were not allowed for a moment to cross the path of
|
||
this purpose; for in politics the application of economic pressure is
|
||
always possible if the one side be sufficiently unscrupulous and the
|
||
other sufficiently inert and docile. In this case both conditions were
|
||
fulfilled.
|
||
|
||
By the beginning of the present century the Trades Unionist Movement had
|
||
already ceased to recognize the purpose for which it had been founded.
|
||
From year to year it fell more and more under the political control of
|
||
the Social Democrats, until it finally came to be used as a
|
||
battering-ram in the class struggle. The plan was to shatter, by means
|
||
of constantly repeated blows, the economic edifice in the building of
|
||
which so much time and care had been expended. Once this objective had
|
||
been reached, the destruction of the State would become a matter of
|
||
course, because the State would already have been deprived of its
|
||
economic foundations. Attention to the real interests of the
|
||
working-classes, on the part of the Social Democrats, steadily decreased
|
||
until the cunning leaders saw that it would be in their immediate
|
||
political interests if the social and cultural demands of the broad
|
||
masses remained unheeded; for there was a danger that if these masses
|
||
once felt content they could no longer be employed as mere passive
|
||
material in the political struggle.
|
||
|
||
The gloomy prospect which presented itself to the eyes of the
|
||
CONDOTTIERI of the class warfare, if the discontent of the masses were
|
||
no longer available as a war weapon, created so much anxiety among them
|
||
that they suppressed and opposed even the most elementary measures of
|
||
social reform. And conditions were such that those leaders did not have
|
||
to trouble about attempting to justify such an illogical policy.
|
||
|
||
As the masses were taught to increase and heighten their demands the
|
||
possibility of satisfying them dwindled and whatever ameliorative
|
||
measures were taken became less and less significant; so that it was at
|
||
that time possible to persuade the masses that this ridiculous measure
|
||
in which the most sacred claims of the working-classes were being
|
||
granted represented a diabolical plan to weaken their fighting power in
|
||
this easy way and, if possible, to paralyse it. One will not be
|
||
astonished at the success of these allegations if one remembers what a
|
||
small measure of thinking power the broad masses possess.
|
||
|
||
In the bourgeois camp there was high indignation over the bad faith of
|
||
the Social Democratic tactics; but nothing was done to draw a practical
|
||
conclusion and organize a counter attack from the bourgeois side. The
|
||
fear of the Social Democrats, to improve the miserable conditions of the
|
||
working-classes ought to have induced the bourgeois parties to make the
|
||
most energetic efforts in this direction and thus snatch from the hands
|
||
of the class-warfare leaders their most important weapon; but nothing of
|
||
this kind happened.
|
||
|
||
Instead of attacking the position of their adversaries the bourgeoisie
|
||
allowed itself to be pressed and harried. Finally it adopted means that
|
||
were so tardy and so insignificant that they were ineffective and were
|
||
repudiated. So the whole situation remained just as it had been before
|
||
the bourgeois intervention; but the discontent had thereby become more
|
||
serious.
|
||
|
||
Like a threatening storm, the 'Free Trades Union' hovered above the
|
||
political horizon and above the life of each individual. It was one of
|
||
the most frightful instruments of terror that threatened the security
|
||
and independence of the national economic structure, the foundations of
|
||
the State and the liberty of the individual. Above all, it was the 'Free
|
||
Trades Union' that turned democracy into a ridiculous and scorned
|
||
phrase, insulted the ideal of liberty and stigmatized that of fraternity
|
||
with the slogan 'If you will not become our comrade we shall crack your
|
||
skull'.
|
||
|
||
It was thus that I then came to know this friend of humanity. During the
|
||
years that followed my knowledge of it became wider and deeper; but I
|
||
have never changed anything in that regard.
|
||
|
||
The more I became acquainted with the external forms of Social
|
||
Democracy, the greater became my desire to understand the inner nature
|
||
of its doctrines.
|
||
|
||
For this purpose the official literature of the Party could not help
|
||
very much. In discussing economic questions its statements were false
|
||
and its proofs unsound. In treating of political aims its attitude was
|
||
insincere. Furthermore, its modern methods of chicanery in the
|
||
presentation of its arguments were profoundly repugnant to me. Its
|
||
flamboyant sentences, its obscure and incomprehensible phrases,
|
||
pretended to contain great thoughts, but they were devoid of thought,
|
||
and meaningless. One would have to be a decadent Bohemian in one of our
|
||
modern cities in order to feel at home in that labyrinth of mental
|
||
aberration, so that he might discover 'intimate experiences' amid the
|
||
stinking fumes of this literary Dadism. These writers were obviously
|
||
counting on the proverbial humility of a certain section of our people,
|
||
who believe that a person who is incomprehensible must be profoundly
|
||
wise.
|
||
|
||
In confronting the theoretical falsity and absurdity of that doctrine
|
||
with the reality of its external manifestations, I gradually came to
|
||
have a clear idea of the ends at which it aimed.
|
||
|
||
During such moments I had dark presentiments and feared something evil.
|
||
I had before me a teaching inspired by egoism and hatred, mathematically
|
||
calculated to win its victory, but the triumph of which would be a
|
||
mortal blow to humanity.
|
||
|
||
Meanwhile I had discovered the relations existing between this
|
||
destructive teaching and the specific character of a people, who up to
|
||
that time had been to me almost unknown.
|
||
|
||
Knowledge of the Jews is the only key whereby one may understand the
|
||
inner nature and therefore the real aims of Social Democracy.
|
||
|
||
The man who has come to know this race has succeeded in removing from
|
||
his eyes the veil through which he had seen the aims and meaning of his
|
||
Party in a false light; and then, out of the murk and fog of social
|
||
phrases rises the grimacing figure of Marxism.
|
||
|
||
To-day it is hard and almost impossible for me to say when the word
|
||
'Jew' first began to raise any particular thought in my mind. I do not
|
||
remember even having heard the word at home during my father's lifetime.
|
||
If this name were mentioned in a derogatory sense I think the old
|
||
gentleman would just have considered those who used it in this way as
|
||
being uneducated reactionaries. In the course of his career he had come
|
||
to be more or less a cosmopolitan, with strong views on nationalism,
|
||
which had its effect on me as well. In school, too, I found no reason to
|
||
alter the picture of things I had formed at home.
|
||
|
||
At the REALSCHULE I knew one Jewish boy. We were all on our guard in our
|
||
relations with him, but only because his reticence and certain actions
|
||
of his warned us to be discreet. Beyond that my companions and myself
|
||
formed no particular opinions in regard to him.
|
||
|
||
It was not until I was fourteen or fifteen years old that I frequently
|
||
ran up against the word 'Jew', partly in connection with political
|
||
controversies. These references aroused a slight aversion in me, and I
|
||
could not avoid an uncomfortable feeling which always came over me when
|
||
I had to listen to religious disputes. But at that time I had no other
|
||
feelings about the Jewish question.
|
||
|
||
There were very few Jews in Linz. In the course of centuries the Jews
|
||
who lived there had become Europeanized in external appearance and were
|
||
so much like other human beings that I even looked upon them as Germans.
|
||
The reason why I did not then perceive the absurdity of such an illusion
|
||
was that the only external mark which I recognized as distinguishing
|
||
them from us was the practice of their strange religion. As I thought
|
||
that they were persecuted on account of their Faith my aversion to
|
||
hearing remarks against them grew almost into a feeling of abhorrence. I
|
||
did not in the least suspect that there could be such a thing as a
|
||
systematic anti-Semitism.
|
||
|
||
Then I came to Vienna.
|
||
|
||
Confused by the mass of impressions I received from the architectural
|
||
surroundings and depressed by my own troubles, I did not at first
|
||
distinguish between the different social strata of which the population
|
||
of that mammoth city was composed. Although Vienna then had about two
|
||
hundred thousand Jews among its population of two millions, I did not
|
||
notice them. During the first weeks of my sojourn my eyes and my mind
|
||
were unable to cope with the onrush of new ideas and values. Not until I
|
||
gradually settled down to my surroundings, and the confused picture
|
||
began to grow clearer, did I acquire a more discriminating view of my
|
||
new world. And with that I came up against the Jewish problem.
|
||
|
||
I will not say that the manner in which I first became acquainted with
|
||
it was particularly unpleasant for me. In the Jew I still saw only a man
|
||
who was of a different religion, and therefore, on grounds of human
|
||
tolerance, I was against the idea that he should be attacked because he
|
||
had a different faith. And so I considered that the tone adopted by the
|
||
anti-Semitic Press in Vienna was unworthy of the cultural traditions of
|
||
a great people. The memory of certain events which happened in the
|
||
middle ages came into my mind, and I felt that I should not like to see
|
||
them repeated. Generally speaking, these anti-Semitic newspapers did not
|
||
belong to the first rank--but I did not then understand the reason of
|
||
this--and so I regarded them more as the products of jealousy and envy
|
||
rather than the expression of a sincere, though wrong-headed, feeling.
|
||
|
||
My own opinions were confirmed by what I considered to be the infinitely
|
||
more dignified manner in which the really great Press replied to those
|
||
attacks or simply ignored them, which latter seemed to me the most
|
||
respectable way.
|
||
|
||
I diligently read what was generally called the World Press--NEUE FREIE
|
||
PRESSE, WIENER TAGEBLATT, etc.--and I was astonished by the abundance of
|
||
information they gave their readers and the impartial way in which they
|
||
presented particular problems. I appreciated their dignified tone; but
|
||
sometimes the flamboyancy of the style was unconvincing, and I did not
|
||
like it. But I attributed all this to the overpowering influence of the
|
||
world metropolis.
|
||
|
||
Since I considered Vienna at that time as such a world metropolis, I
|
||
thought this constituted sufficient grounds to excuse these shortcomings
|
||
of the Press. But I was frequently disgusted by the grovelling way in
|
||
which the Vienna Press played lackey to the Court. Scarcely a move took
|
||
place at the Hofburg which was not presented in glorified colours to the
|
||
readers. It was a foolish practice, which, especially when it had to do
|
||
with 'The Wisest Monarch of all Times', reminded one almost of the dance
|
||
which the mountain cock performs at pairing time to woo his mate. It was
|
||
all empty nonsense. And I thought that such a policy was a stain on the
|
||
ideal of liberal democracy. I thought that this way of currying favour
|
||
at the Court was unworthy of the people. And that was the first blot
|
||
that fell on my appreciation of the great Vienna Press.
|
||
|
||
While in Vienna I continued to follow with a vivid interest all the
|
||
events that were taking place in Germany, whether connected with
|
||
political or cultural question. I had a feeling of pride and admiration
|
||
when I compared the rise of the young German Empire with the decline of
|
||
the Austrian State. But, although the foreign policy of that Empire was
|
||
a source of real pleasure on the whole, the internal political
|
||
happenings were not always so satisfactory. I did not approve of the
|
||
campaign which at that time was being carried on against William II. I
|
||
looked upon him not only as the German Emperor but, above all, as the
|
||
creator of the German Navy. The fact that the Emperor was prohibited
|
||
from speaking in the Reichstag made me very angry, because the
|
||
prohibition came from a side which in my eyes had no authority to make
|
||
it. For at a single sitting those same parliamentary ganders did more
|
||
cackling together than the whole dynasty of Emperors, comprising even
|
||
the weakest, had done in the course of centuries.
|
||
|
||
It annoyed me to have to acknowledge that in a nation where any
|
||
half-witted fellow could claim for himself the right to criticize and
|
||
might even be let loose on the people as a 'Legislator' in the
|
||
Reichstag, the bearer of the Imperial Crown could be the subject of a
|
||
'reprimand' on the part of the most miserable assembly of drivellers
|
||
that had ever existed.
|
||
|
||
I was even more disgusted at the way in which this same Vienna Press
|
||
salaamed obsequiously before the meanest steed belonging to the Habsburg
|
||
royal equipage and went off into wild ecstacies of delight if the nag
|
||
wagged its tail in response. And at the same time these newspapers took
|
||
up an attitude of anxiety in matters that concerned the German Emperor,
|
||
trying to cloak their enmity by the serious air they gave themselves.
|
||
But in my eyes that enmity appeared to be only poorly cloaked. Naturally
|
||
they protested that they had no intention of mixing in Germany's
|
||
internal affairs--God forbid! They pretended that by touching a delicate
|
||
spot in such a friendly way they were fulfilling a duty that devolved
|
||
upon them by reason of the mutual alliance between the two countries and
|
||
at the same time discharging their obligations of journalistic
|
||
truthfulness. Having thus excused themselves about tenderly touching a
|
||
sore spot, they bored with the finger ruthlessly into the wound.
|
||
|
||
That sort of thing made my blood boil. And now I began to be more and
|
||
more on my guard when reading the great Vienna Press.
|
||
|
||
I had to acknowledge, however, that on such subjects one of the
|
||
anti-Semitic papers--the DEUTSCHE VOLKSBLATT--acted more decently.
|
||
|
||
What got still more on my nerves was the repugnant manner in which the
|
||
big newspapers cultivated admiration for France. One really had to feel
|
||
ashamed of being a German when confronted by those mellifluous hymns of
|
||
praise for 'the great culture-nation'. This wretched Gallomania more
|
||
often than once made me throw away one of those 'world newspapers'. I
|
||
now often turned to the VOLKSBLATT, which was much smaller in size but
|
||
which treated such subjects more decently. I was not in accord with its
|
||
sharp anti-Semitic tone; but again and again I found that its arguments
|
||
gave me grounds for serious thought.
|
||
|
||
Anyhow, it was as a result of such reading that I came to know the man
|
||
and the movement which then determined the fate of Vienna. These were
|
||
Dr. Karl Lueger and the Christian Socialist Movement. At the time I came
|
||
to Vienna I felt opposed to both. I looked on the man and the movement
|
||
as 'reactionary'.
|
||
|
||
But even an elementary sense of justice enforced me to change my opinion
|
||
when I had the opportunity of knowing the man and his work, and slowly
|
||
that opinion grew into outspoken admiration when I had better grounds
|
||
for forming a judgment. To-day, as well as then, I hold Dr. Karl Lueger
|
||
as the most eminent type of German Burgermeister. How many prejudices
|
||
were thrown over through such a change in my attitude towards the
|
||
Christian-Socialist Movement!
|
||
|
||
My ideas about anti-Semitism changed also in the course of time, but
|
||
that was the change which I found most difficult. It cost me a greater
|
||
internal conflict with myself, and it was only after a struggle between
|
||
reason and sentiment that victory began to be decided in favour of the
|
||
former. Two years later sentiment rallied to the side of reasons and
|
||
became a faithful guardian and counsellor.
|
||
|
||
At the time of this bitter struggle, between calm reason and the
|
||
sentiments in which I had been brought up, the lessons that I learned on
|
||
the streets of Vienna rendered me invaluable assistance. A time came
|
||
when I no longer passed blindly along the street of the mighty city, as
|
||
I had done in the early days, but now with my eyes open not only to
|
||
study the buildings but also the human beings.
|
||
|
||
Once, when passing through the inner City, I suddenly encountered a
|
||
phenomenon in a long caftan and wearing black side-locks. My first
|
||
thought was: Is this a Jew? They certainly did not have this appearance
|
||
in Linz. I watched the man stealthily and cautiously; but the longer I
|
||
gazed at the strange countenance and examined it feature by feature, the
|
||
more the question shaped itself in my brain: Is this a German?
|
||
|
||
As was always my habit with such experiences, I turned to books for help
|
||
in removing my doubts. For the first time in my life I bought myself
|
||
some anti-Semitic pamphlets for a few pence. But unfortunately they all
|
||
began with the assumption that in principle the reader had at least a
|
||
certain degree of information on the Jewish question or was even
|
||
familiar with it. Moreover, the tone of most of these pamphlets was such
|
||
that I became doubtful again, because the statements made were partly
|
||
superficial and the proofs extraordinarily unscientific. For weeks, and
|
||
indeed for months, I returned to my old way of thinking. The subject
|
||
appeared so enormous and the accusations were so far-reaching that I was
|
||
afraid of dealing with it unjustly and so I became again anxious and
|
||
uncertain.
|
||
|
||
Naturally I could no longer doubt that here there was not a question of
|
||
Germans who happened to be of a different religion but rather that there
|
||
was question of an entirely different people. For as soon as I began to
|
||
investigate the matter and observe the Jews, then Vienna appeared to me
|
||
in a different light. Wherever I now went I saw Jews, and the more I saw
|
||
of them the more strikingly and clearly they stood out as a different
|
||
people from the other citizens. Especially the Inner City and the
|
||
district northwards from the Danube Canal swarmed with a people who,
|
||
even in outer appearance, bore no similarity to the Germans.
|
||
|
||
But any indecision which I may still have felt about that point was
|
||
finally removed by the activities of a certain section of the Jews
|
||
themselves. A great movement, called Zionism, arose among them. Its aim
|
||
was to assert the national character of Judaism, and the movement was
|
||
strongly represented in Vienna.
|
||
|
||
To outward appearances it seemed as if only one group of Jews championed
|
||
this movement, while the great majority disapproved of it, or even
|
||
repudiated it. But an investigation of the situation showed that those
|
||
outward appearances were purposely misleading. These outward appearances
|
||
emerged from a mist of theories which had been produced for reasons of
|
||
expediency, if not for purposes of downright deception. For that part of
|
||
Jewry which was styled Liberal did not disown the Zionists as if they
|
||
were not members of their race but rather as brother Jews who publicly
|
||
professed their faith in an unpractical way, so as to create a danger
|
||
for Jewry itself.
|
||
|
||
Thus there was no real rift in their internal solidarity.
|
||
|
||
This fictitious conflict between the Zionists and the Liberal Jews soon
|
||
disgusted me; for it was false through and through and in direct
|
||
contradiction to the moral dignity and immaculate character on which
|
||
that race had always prided itself.
|
||
|
||
Cleanliness, whether moral or of another kind, had its own peculiar
|
||
meaning for these people. That they were water-shy was obvious on
|
||
looking at them and, unfortunately, very often also when not looking at
|
||
them at all. The odour of those people in caftans often used to make me
|
||
feel ill. Beyond that there were the unkempt clothes and the ignoble
|
||
exterior.
|
||
|
||
All these details were certainly not attractive; but the revolting
|
||
feature was that beneath their unclean exterior one suddenly perceived
|
||
the moral mildew of the chosen race.
|
||
|
||
What soon gave me cause for very serious consideration were the
|
||
activities of the Jews in certain branches of life, into the mystery of
|
||
which I penetrated little by little. Was there any shady undertaking,
|
||
any form of foulness, especially in cultural life, in which at least one
|
||
Jew did not participate? On putting the probing knife carefully to that
|
||
kind of abscess one immediately discovered, like a maggot in a
|
||
putrescent body, a little Jew who was often blinded by the sudden light.
|
||
|
||
In my eyes the charge against Judaism became a grave one the moment I
|
||
discovered the Jewish activities in the Press, in art, in literature and
|
||
the theatre. All unctuous protests were now more or less futile. One
|
||
needed only to look at the posters announcing the hideous productions of
|
||
the cinema and theatre, and study the names of the authors who were
|
||
highly lauded there in order to become permanently adamant on Jewish
|
||
questions. Here was a pestilence, a moral pestilence, with which the
|
||
public was being infected. It was worse than the Black Plague of long
|
||
ago. And in what mighty doses this poison was manufactured and
|
||
distributed. Naturally, the lower the moral and intellectual level of
|
||
such an author of artistic products the more inexhaustible his
|
||
fecundity. Sometimes it went so far that one of these fellows, acting
|
||
like a sewage pump, would shoot his filth directly in the face of other
|
||
members of the human race. In this connection we must remember there is
|
||
no limit to the number of such people. One ought to realize that for
|
||
one, Goethe, Nature may bring into existence ten thousand such
|
||
despoilers who act as the worst kind of germ-carriers in poisoning human
|
||
souls. It was a terrible thought, and yet it could not be avoided, that
|
||
the greater number of the Jews seemed specially destined by Nature to
|
||
play this shameful part.
|
||
|
||
And is it for this reason that they can be called the chosen people?
|
||
|
||
I began then to investigate carefully the names of all the fabricators
|
||
of these unclean products in public cultural life. The result of that
|
||
inquiry was still more disfavourable to the attitude which I had
|
||
hitherto held in regard to the Jews. Though my feelings might rebel a
|
||
thousand time, reason now had to draw its own conclusions.
|
||
|
||
The fact that nine-tenths of all the smutty literature, artistic tripe
|
||
and theatrical banalities, had to be charged to the account of people
|
||
who formed scarcely one per cent. of the nation--that fact could not be
|
||
gainsaid. It was there, and had to be admitted. Then I began to examine
|
||
my favourite 'World Press', with that fact before my mind.
|
||
|
||
The deeper my soundings went the lesser grew my respect for that Press
|
||
which I formerly admired. Its style became still more repellent and I
|
||
was forced to reject its ideas as entirely shallow and superficial. To
|
||
claim that in the presentation of facts and views its attitude was
|
||
impartial seemed to me to contain more falsehood than truth. The writers
|
||
were--Jews.
|
||
|
||
Thousands of details that I had scarcely noticed before seemed to me now
|
||
to deserve attention. I began to grasp and understand things which I had
|
||
formerly looked at in a different light.
|
||
|
||
I saw the Liberal policy of that Press in another light. Its dignified
|
||
tone in replying to the attacks of its adversaries and its dead silence
|
||
in other cases now became clear to me as part of a cunning and
|
||
despicable way of deceiving the readers. Its brilliant theatrical
|
||
criticisms always praised the Jewish authors and its adverse, criticism
|
||
was reserved exclusively for the Germans.
|
||
|
||
The light pin-pricks against William II showed the persistency of its
|
||
policy, just as did its systematic commendation of French culture and
|
||
civilization. The subject matter of the feuilletons was trivial and
|
||
often pornographic. The language of this Press as a whole had the accent
|
||
of a foreign people. The general tone was openly derogatory to the
|
||
Germans and this must have been definitely intentional.
|
||
|
||
What were the interests that urged the Vienna Press to adopt such a
|
||
policy? Or did they do so merely by chance? In attempting to find an
|
||
answer to those questions I gradually became more and more dubious.
|
||
|
||
Then something happened which helped me to come to an early decision. I
|
||
began to see through the meaning of a whole series of events that were
|
||
taking place in other branches of Viennese life. All these were inspired
|
||
by a general concept of manners and morals which was openly put into
|
||
practice by a large section of the Jews and could be established as
|
||
attributable to them. Here, again, the life which I observed on the
|
||
streets taught me what evil really is.
|
||
|
||
The part which the Jews played in the social phenomenon of prostitution,
|
||
and more especially in the white slave traffic, could be studied here
|
||
better than in any other West-European city, with the possible exception
|
||
of certain ports in Southern France. Walking by night along the streets
|
||
of the Leopoldstadt, almost at every turn whether one wished it or not,
|
||
one witnessed certain happenings of whose existence the Germans knew
|
||
nothing until the War made it possible and indeed inevitable for the
|
||
soldiers to see such things on the Eastern front.
|
||
|
||
A cold shiver ran down my spine when I first ascertained that it was the
|
||
same kind of cold-blooded, thick-skinned and shameless Jew who showed
|
||
his consummate skill in conducting that revolting exploitation of the
|
||
dregs of the big city. Then I became fired with wrath.
|
||
|
||
I had now no more hesitation about bringing the Jewish problem to light
|
||
in all its details. No. Henceforth I was determined to do so. But as I
|
||
learned to track down the Jew in all the different spheres of cultural
|
||
and artistic life, and in the various manifestations of this life
|
||
everywhere, I suddenly came upon him in a position where I had least
|
||
expected to find him. I now realized that the Jews were the leaders of
|
||
Social Democracy. In face of that revelation the scales fell from my
|
||
eyes. My long inner struggle was at an end.
|
||
|
||
In my relations with my fellow workmen I was often astonished to find
|
||
how easily and often they changed their opinions on the same questions,
|
||
sometimes within a few days and sometimes even within the course of a
|
||
few hours. I found it difficult to understand how men who always had
|
||
reasonable ideas when they spoke as individuals with one another
|
||
suddenly lost this reasonableness the moment they acted in the mass.
|
||
That phenomenon often tempted one almost to despair. I used to dispute
|
||
with them for hours and when I succeeded in bringing them to what I
|
||
considered a reasonable way of thinking I rejoiced at my success. But
|
||
next day I would find that it had been all in vain. It was saddening to
|
||
think I had to begin it all over again. Like a pendulum in its eternal
|
||
sway, they would fall back into their absurd opinions.
|
||
|
||
I was able to understand their position fully. They were dissatisfied
|
||
with their lot and cursed the fate which had hit them so hard. They
|
||
hated their employers, whom they looked upon as the heartless
|
||
administrators of their cruel destiny. Often they used abusive language
|
||
against the public officials, whom they accused of having no sympathy
|
||
with the situation of the working people. They made public protests
|
||
against the cost of living and paraded through the streets in defence of
|
||
their claims. At least all this could be explained on reasonable
|
||
grounds. But what was impossible to understand was the boundless hatred
|
||
they expressed against their own fellow citizens, how they disparaged
|
||
their own nation, mocked at its greatness, reviled its history and
|
||
dragged the names of its most illustrious men in the gutter.
|
||
|
||
This hostility towards their own kith and kin, their own native land and
|
||
home was as irrational as it was incomprehensible. It was against
|
||
Nature.
|
||
|
||
One could cure that malady temporarily, but only for some days or at
|
||
least some weeks. But on meeting those whom one believed to have been
|
||
converted one found that they had become as they were before. That
|
||
malady against Nature held them once again in its clutches.
|
||
|
||
I gradually discovered that the Social Democratic Press was
|
||
predominantly controlled by Jews. But I did not attach special
|
||
importance to this circumstance, for the same state of affairs existed
|
||
also in other newspapers. But there was one striking fact in this
|
||
connection. It was that there was not a single newspaper with which Jews
|
||
were connected that could be spoken of as National, in the meaning that
|
||
my education and convictions attached to that word.
|
||
|
||
Making an effort to overcome my natural reluctance, I tried to read
|
||
articles of this nature published in the Marxist Press; but in doing so
|
||
my aversion increased all the more. And then I set about learning
|
||
something of the people who wrote and published this mischievous stuff.
|
||
From the publisher downwards, all of them were Jews. I recalled to mind
|
||
the names of the public leaders of Marxism, and then I realized that
|
||
most of them belonged to the Chosen Race--the Social Democratic
|
||
representatives in the Imperial Cabinet as well as the secretaries of
|
||
the Trades Unions and the street agitators. Everywhere the same sinister
|
||
picture presented itself. I shall never forget the row of
|
||
names--Austerlitz, David, Adler, Ellenbogen, and others. One fact became
|
||
quite evident to me. It was that this alien race held in its hands the
|
||
leadership of that Social Democratic Party with whose minor
|
||
representatives I had been disputing for months past. I was happy at
|
||
last to know for certain that the Jew is not a German.
|
||
|
||
Thus I finally discovered who were the evil spirits leading our people
|
||
astray. The sojourn in Vienna for one year had proved long enough to
|
||
convince me that no worker is so rooted in his preconceived notions that
|
||
he will not surrender them in face of better and clearer arguments and
|
||
explanations. Gradually I became an expert in the doctrine of the
|
||
Marxists and used this knowledge as an instrument to drive home my own
|
||
firm convictions. I was successful in nearly every case. The great
|
||
masses can be rescued, but a lot of time and a large share of human
|
||
patience must be devoted to such work.
|
||
|
||
But a Jew can never be rescued from his fixed notions.
|
||
|
||
It was then simple enough to attempt to show them the absurdity of their
|
||
teaching. Within my small circle I talked to them until my throat ached
|
||
and my voice grew hoarse. I believed that I could finally convince them
|
||
of the danger inherent in the Marxist follies. But I only achieved the
|
||
contrary result. It seemed to me that immediately the disastrous effects
|
||
of the Marxist Theory and its application in practice became evident,
|
||
the stronger became their obstinacy.
|
||
|
||
The more I debated with them the more familiar I became with their
|
||
argumentative tactics. At the outset they counted upon the stupidity of
|
||
their opponents, but when they got so entangled that they could not find
|
||
a way out they played the trick of acting as innocent simpletons. Should
|
||
they fail, in spite of their tricks of logic, they acted as if they
|
||
could not understand the counter arguments and bolted away to another
|
||
field of discussion. They would lay down truisms and platitudes; and, if
|
||
you accepted these, then they were applied to other problems and matters
|
||
of an essentially different nature from the original theme. If you faced
|
||
them with this point they would escape again, and you could not bring
|
||
them to make any precise statement. Whenever one tried to get a firm
|
||
grip on any of these apostles one's hand grasped only jelly and slime
|
||
which slipped through the fingers and combined again into a solid mass a
|
||
moment afterwards. If your adversary felt forced to give in to your
|
||
argument, on account of the observers present, and if you then thought
|
||
that at last you had gained ground, a surprise was in store for you on
|
||
the following day. The Jew would be utterly oblivious to what had
|
||
happened the day before, and he would start once again by repeating his
|
||
former absurdities, as if nothing had happened. Should you become
|
||
indignant and remind him of yesterday's defeat, he pretended
|
||
astonishment and could not remember anything, except that on the
|
||
previous day he had proved that his statements were correct. Sometimes I
|
||
was dumbfounded. I do not know what amazed me the more--the abundance of
|
||
their verbiage or the artful way in which they dressed up their
|
||
falsehoods. I gradually came to hate them.
|
||
|
||
Yet all this had its good side; because the more I came to know the
|
||
individual leaders, or at least the propagandists, of Social Democracy,
|
||
my love for my own people increased correspondingly. Considering the
|
||
Satanic skill which these evil counsellors displayed, how could their
|
||
unfortunate victims be blamed? Indeed, I found it extremely difficult
|
||
myself to be a match for the dialectical perfidy of that race. How
|
||
futile it was to try to win over such people with argument, seeing that
|
||
their very mouths distorted the truth, disowning the very words they had
|
||
just used and adopting them again a few moments afterwards to serve
|
||
their own ends in the argument! No. The more I came to know the Jew, the
|
||
easier it was to excuse the workers.
|
||
|
||
In my opinion the most culpable were not to be found among the workers
|
||
but rather among those who did not think it worth while to take the
|
||
trouble to sympathize with their own kinsfolk and give to the
|
||
hard-working son of the national family what was his by the iron logic
|
||
of justice, while at the same time placing his seducer and corrupter
|
||
against the wall.
|
||
|
||
Urged by my own daily experiences, I now began to investigate more
|
||
thoroughly the sources of the Marxist teaching itself. Its effects were
|
||
well known to me in detail. As a result of careful observation, its
|
||
daily progress had become obvious to me. And one needed only a little
|
||
imagination in order to be able to forecast the consequences which must
|
||
result from it. The only question now was: Did the founders foresee the
|
||
effects of their work in the form which those effects have shown
|
||
themselves to-day, or were the founders themselves the victims of an
|
||
error? To my mind both alternatives were possible.
|
||
|
||
If the second question must be answered in the affirmative, then it was
|
||
the duty of every thinking person to oppose this sinister movement with
|
||
a view to preventing it from producing its worst results. But if the
|
||
first question must be answered in the affirmative, then it must be
|
||
admitted that the original authors of this evil which has infected the
|
||
nations were devils incarnate. For only in the brain of a monster, and
|
||
not that of a man, could the plan of this organization take shape whose
|
||
workings must finally bring about the collapse of human civilization and
|
||
turn this world into a desert waste.
|
||
|
||
Such being the case the only alternative left was to fight, and in that
|
||
fight to employ all the weapons which the human spirit and intellect and
|
||
will could furnish leaving it to Fate to decide in whose favour the
|
||
balance should fall.
|
||
|
||
And so I began to gather information about the authors of this teaching,
|
||
with a view to studying the principles of the movement. The fact that I
|
||
attained my object sooner than I could have anticipated was due to the
|
||
deeper insight into the Jewish question which I then gained, my
|
||
knowledge of this question being hitherto rather superficial. This newly
|
||
acquired knowledge alone enabled me to make a practical comparison
|
||
between the real content and the theoretical pretentiousness of the
|
||
teaching laid down by the apostolic founders of Social Democracy;
|
||
because I now understood the language of the Jew. I realized that the
|
||
Jew uses language for the purpose of dissimulating his thought or at
|
||
least veiling it, so that his real aim cannot be discovered by what he
|
||
says but rather by reading between the lines. This knowledge was the
|
||
occasion of the greatest inner revolution that I had yet experienced.
|
||
From being a soft-hearted cosmopolitan I became an out-and-out
|
||
anti-Semite.
|
||
|
||
Only on one further occasion, and that for the last time, did I give way
|
||
to oppressing thoughts which caused me some moments of profound anxiety.
|
||
|
||
As I critically reviewed the activities of the Jewish people throughout
|
||
long periods of history I became anxious and asked myself whether for
|
||
some inscrutable reasons beyond the comprehension of poor mortals such
|
||
as ourselves, Destiny may not have irrevocably decreed that the final
|
||
victory must go to this small nation? May it not be that this people
|
||
which has lived only for the earth has been promised the earth as a
|
||
recompense? is our right to struggle for our own self-preservation based
|
||
on reality, or is it a merely subjective thing? Fate answered the
|
||
question for me inasmuch as it led me to make a detached and exhaustive
|
||
inquiry into the Marxist teaching and the activities of the Jewish
|
||
people in connection with it.
|
||
|
||
The Jewish doctrine of Marxism repudiates the aristocratic principle of
|
||
Nature and substitutes for it the eternal privilege of force and energy,
|
||
numerical mass and its dead weight. Thus it denies the individual worth
|
||
of the human personality, impugns the teaching that nationhood and race
|
||
have a primary significance, and by doing this it takes away the very
|
||
foundations of human existence and human civilization. If the Marxist
|
||
teaching were to be accepted as the foundation of the life of the
|
||
universe, it would lead to the disappearance of all order that is
|
||
conceivable to the human mind. And thus the adoption of such a law would
|
||
provoke chaos in the structure of the greatest organism that we know,
|
||
with the result that the inhabitants of this earthly planet would
|
||
finally disappear.
|
||
|
||
Should the Jew, with the aid of his Marxist creed, triumph over the
|
||
people of this world, his Crown will be the funeral wreath of mankind,
|
||
and this planet will once again follow its orbit through ether, without
|
||
any human life on its surface, as it did millions of years ago.
|
||
|
||
And so I believe to-day that my conduct is in accordance with the will
|
||
of the Almighty Creator. In standing guard against the Jew I am
|
||
defending the handiwork of the Lord.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
CHAPTER III
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
POLITICAL REFLECTIONS ARISING OUT OF MY SOJOURN IN VIENNA
|
||
|
||
|
||
Generally speaking a man should not publicly take part in politics
|
||
before he has reached the age of thirty, though, of course, exceptions
|
||
must be made in the case of those who are naturally gifted with
|
||
extraordinary political abilities. That at least is my opinion to-day.
|
||
And the reason for it is that until he reaches his thirtieth year or
|
||
thereabouts a man's mental development will mostly consist in acquiring
|
||
and sifting such knowledge as is necessary for the groundwork of a
|
||
general platform from which he can examine the different political
|
||
problems that arise from day to day and be able to adopt a definite
|
||
attitude towards each. A man must first acquire a fund of general ideas
|
||
and fit them together so as to form an organic structure of personal
|
||
thought or outlook on life--a WELTANSCHAUUNG. Then he will have that
|
||
mental equipment without which he cannot form his own judgments on
|
||
particular questions of the day, and he will have acquired those
|
||
qualities that are necessary for consistency and steadfastness in the
|
||
formation of political opinions. Such a man is now qualified, at least
|
||
subjectively, to take his part in the political conduct of public
|
||
affairs.
|
||
|
||
If these pre-requisite conditions are not fulfilled, and if a man should
|
||
enter political life without this equipment, he will run a twofold risk.
|
||
In the first place, he may find during the course of events that the
|
||
stand which he originally took in regard to some essential question was
|
||
wrong. He will now have to abandon his former position or else stick to
|
||
it against his better knowledge and riper wisdom and after his reason
|
||
and convictions have already proved it untenable. If he adopt the former
|
||
line of action he will find himself in a difficult personal situation;
|
||
because in giving up a position hitherto maintained he will appear
|
||
inconsistent and will have no right to expect his followers to remain as
|
||
loyal to his leadership as they were before. And, as regards the
|
||
followers themselves, they may easily look upon their leader's change of
|
||
policy as showing a lack of judgment inherent in his character.
|
||
Moreover, the change must cause in them a certain feeling of
|
||
discomfiture VIS-<2D>-VIS those whom the leader formerly opposed.
|
||
|
||
If he adopts the second alternative--which so very frequently happens
|
||
to-day--then public pronouncements of the leader have no longer his
|
||
personal persuasion to support them. And the more that is the case the
|
||
defence of his cause will be all the more hollow and superficial. He now
|
||
descends to the adoption of vulgar means in his defence. While he
|
||
himself no longer dreams seriously of standing by his political
|
||
protestations to the last--for no man will die in defence of something
|
||
in which he does not believe--he makes increasing demands on his
|
||
followers. Indeed, the greater be the measure of his own insincerity,
|
||
the more unfortunate and inconsiderate become his claims on his party
|
||
adherents. Finally, he throws aside the last vestiges of true leadership
|
||
and begins to play politics. This means that he becomes one of those
|
||
whose only consistency is their inconsistency, associated with
|
||
overbearing insolence and oftentimes an artful mendacity developed to a
|
||
shamelessly high degree.
|
||
|
||
Should such a person, to the misfortune of all decent people, succeed in
|
||
becoming a parliamentary deputy it will be clear from the outset that
|
||
for him the essence of political activity consists in a heroic struggle
|
||
to keep permanent hold on this milk-bottle as a source of livelihood for
|
||
himself and his family. The more his wife and children are dependent on
|
||
him, the more stubbornly will he fight to maintain for himself the
|
||
representation of his parliamentary constituency. For that reason any
|
||
other person who gives evidence of political capacity is his personal
|
||
enemy. In every new movement he will apprehend the possible beginning of
|
||
his own downfall. And everyone who is a better man than himself will
|
||
appear to him in the light of a menace.
|
||
|
||
I shall subsequently deal more fully with the problem to which this kind
|
||
of parliamentary vermin give rise.
|
||
|
||
When a man has reached his thirtieth year he has still a great deal to
|
||
learn. That is obvious. But henceforward what he learns will principally
|
||
be an amplification of his basic ideas; it will be fitted in with them
|
||
organically so as to fill up the framework of the fundamental
|
||
WELTANSCHAUUNG which he already possesses. What he learns anew will not
|
||
imply the abandonment of principles already held, but rather a deeper
|
||
knowledge of those principles. And thus his colleagues will never have
|
||
the discomforting feeling that they have been hitherto falsely led by
|
||
him. On the contrary, their confidence is increased when they perceive
|
||
that their leader's qualities are steadily developing along the lines of
|
||
an organic growth which results from the constant assimilation of new
|
||
ideas; so that the followers look upon this process as signifying an
|
||
enrichment of the doctrines in which they themselves believe, in their
|
||
eyes every such development is a new witness to the correctness of that
|
||
whole body of opinion which has hitherto been held.
|
||
|
||
A leader who has to abandon the platform founded on his general
|
||
principles, because he recognizes the foundation as false, can act with
|
||
honour only when he declares his readiness to accept the final
|
||
consequences of his erroneous views. In such a case he ought to refrain
|
||
from taking public part in any further political activity. Having once
|
||
gone astray on essential things he may possibly go astray a second time.
|
||
But, anyhow, he has no right whatsoever to expect or demand that his
|
||
fellow citizens should continue to give him their support.
|
||
|
||
How little such a line of conduct commends itself to our public leaders
|
||
nowadays is proved by the general corruption prevalent among the cabal
|
||
which at the present moment feels itself called to political leadership.
|
||
In the whole cabal there is scarcely one who is properly equipped for
|
||
this task.
|
||
|
||
Although in those days I used to give more time than most others to the
|
||
consideration of political question, yet I carefully refrained from
|
||
taking an open part in politics. Only to a small circle did I speak of
|
||
those things which agitated my mind or were the cause of constant
|
||
preoccupation for me. The habit of discussing matters within such a
|
||
restricted group had many advantages in itself. Rather than talk at
|
||
them, I learned to feel my way into the modes of thought and views of
|
||
those men around me. Oftentimes such ways of thinking and such views
|
||
were quite primitive. Thus I took every possible occasion to increase my
|
||
knowledge of men.
|
||
|
||
Nowhere among the German people was the opportunity for making such a
|
||
study so favourable as in Vienna.
|
||
|
||
In the old Danubian Monarchy political thought was wider in its range
|
||
and had a richer variety of interests than in the Germany of that
|
||
epoch--excepting certain parts of Prussia, Hamburg and the districts
|
||
bordering on the North Sea. When I speak of Austria here I mean that
|
||
part of the great Habsburg Empire which, by reason of its German
|
||
population, furnished not only the historic basis for the formation of
|
||
this State but whose population was for several centuries also the
|
||
exclusive source of cultural life in that political system whose
|
||
structure was so artificial. As time went on the stability of the
|
||
Austrian State and the guarantee of its continued existence depended
|
||
more and more on the maintenance of this germ-cell of that Habsburg
|
||
Empire.
|
||
|
||
The hereditary imperial provinces constituted the heart of the Empire.
|
||
And it was this heart that constantly sent the blood of life pulsating
|
||
through the whole political and cultural system. Corresponding to the
|
||
heart of the Empire, Vienna signified the brain and the will. At that
|
||
time Vienna presented an appearance which made one think of her as an
|
||
enthroned queen whose authoritative sway united the conglomeration of
|
||
heterogenous nationalities that lived under the Habsburg sceptre. The
|
||
radiant beauty of the capital city made one forget the sad symptoms of
|
||
senile decay which the State manifested as a whole.
|
||
|
||
Though the Empire was internally rickety because of the terrific
|
||
conflict going on between the various nationalities, the outside
|
||
world--and Germany in particular--saw only that lovely picture of the
|
||
city. The illusion was all the greater because at that time Vienna
|
||
seemed to have risen to its highest pitch of splendour. Under a Mayor,
|
||
who had the true stamp of administrative genius, the venerable
|
||
residential City of the Emperors of the old Empire seemed to have the
|
||
glory of its youth renewed. The last great German who sprang from the
|
||
ranks of the people that had colonized the East Mark was not a
|
||
'statesman', in the official sense. This Dr. Luegar, however, in his
|
||
r<EFBFBD>le as Mayor of 'the Imperial Capital and Residential City', had
|
||
achieved so much in almost all spheres of municipal activity, whether
|
||
economic or cultural, that the heart of the whole Empire throbbed with
|
||
renewed vigour. He thus proved himself a much greater statesman than the
|
||
so-called 'diplomats' of that period.
|
||
|
||
The fact that this political system of heterogeneous races called
|
||
AUSTRIA, finally broke down is no evidence whatsoever of political
|
||
incapacity on the part of the German element in the old East Mark. The
|
||
collapse was the inevitable result of an impossible situation. Ten
|
||
million people cannot permanently hold together a State of fifty
|
||
millions, composed of different and convicting nationalities, unless
|
||
certain definite pre-requisite conditions are at hand while there is
|
||
still time to avail of them.
|
||
|
||
The German-Austrian had very big ways of thinking. Accustomed to live in
|
||
a great Empire, he had a keen sense of the obligations incumbent on him
|
||
in such a situation. He was the only member of the Austrian State who
|
||
looked beyond the borders of the narrow lands belonging to the Crown and
|
||
took in all the frontiers of the Empire in the sweep of his mind. Indeed
|
||
when destiny severed him from the common Fatherland he tried to master
|
||
the tremendous task which was set before him as a consequence. This task
|
||
was to maintain for the German-Austrians that patrimony which, through
|
||
innumerable struggles, their ancestors had originally wrested from the
|
||
East. It must be remembered that the German-Austrians could not put
|
||
their undivided strength into this effort, because the hearts and minds
|
||
of the best among them were constantly turning back towards their
|
||
kinsfolk in the Motherland, so that only a fraction of their energy
|
||
remained to be employed at home.
|
||
|
||
The mental horizon of the German-Austrian was comparatively broad. His
|
||
commercial interests comprised almost every section of the heterogeneous
|
||
Empire. The conduct of almost all important undertakings was in his
|
||
hands. He provided the State, for the most part, with its leading
|
||
technical experts and civil servants. He was responsible for carrying on
|
||
the foreign trade of the country, as far as that sphere of activity was
|
||
not under Jewish control, The German-Austrian exclusively represented
|
||
the political cement that held the State together. His military duties
|
||
carried him far beyond the narrow frontiers of his homeland. Though the
|
||
recruit might join a regiment made up of the German element, the
|
||
regiment itself might be stationed in Herzegovina as well as in Vienna
|
||
or Galicia. The officers in the Habsburg armies were still Germans and
|
||
so was the predominating element in the higher branches of the civil
|
||
service. Art and science were in German hands. Apart from the new
|
||
artistic trash, which might easily have been produced by a negro tribe,
|
||
all genuine artistic inspiration came from the German section of the
|
||
population. In music, architecture, sculpture and painting, Vienna
|
||
abundantly supplied the entire Dual Monarchy. And the source never
|
||
seemed to show signs of a possible exhaustion. Finally, it was the
|
||
German element that determined the conduct of foreign policy, though a
|
||
small number of Hungarians were also active in that field.
|
||
|
||
All efforts, however, to save the unity of the State were doomed to end
|
||
in failure, because the essential pre-requisites were missing.
|
||
|
||
There was only one possible way to control and hold in check the
|
||
centrifugal forces of the different and differing nationalities. This
|
||
way was: to govern the Austrian State and organize it internally on the
|
||
principle of centralization. In no other way imaginable could the
|
||
existence of that State be assured.
|
||
|
||
Now and again there were lucid intervals in the higher ruling quarters
|
||
when this truth was recognized. But it was soon forgotten again, or else
|
||
deliberately ignored, because of the difficulties to be overcome in
|
||
putting it into practice. Every project which aimed at giving the Empire
|
||
a more federal shape was bound to be ineffective because there was no
|
||
strong central authority which could exercise sufficient power within
|
||
the State to hold the federal elements together. It must be remembered
|
||
in this connection that conditions in Austria were quite different from
|
||
those which characterized the German State as founded by Bismarck.
|
||
Germany was faced with only one difficulty, which was that of
|
||
transforming the purely political traditions, because throughout the
|
||
whole of Bismarck's Germany there was a common cultural basis. The
|
||
German Empire contained only members of one and the same racial or
|
||
national stock, with the exception of a few minor foreign fragments.
|
||
|
||
Demographic conditions in Austria were quite the reverse. With the
|
||
exception of Hungary there was no political tradition, coming down from
|
||
a great past, in any of the various affiliated countries. If there had
|
||
been, time had either wiped out all traces of it, or at least, rendered
|
||
them obscure. Moreover, this was the epoch when the principle of
|
||
nationality began to be in ascendant; and that phenomenon awakened the
|
||
national instincts in the various countries affiliated under the
|
||
Habsburg sceptre. It was difficult to control the action of these newly
|
||
awakened national forces; because, adjacent to the frontiers of the Dual
|
||
Monarchy, new national States were springing up whose people were of the
|
||
same or kindred racial stock as the respective nationalities that
|
||
constituted the Habsburg Empire. These new States were able to exercise
|
||
a greater influence than the German element.
|
||
|
||
Even Vienna could not hold out for a lengthy period in this conflict.
|
||
When Budapest had developed into a metropolis a rival had grown up whose
|
||
mission was, not to help in holding together the various divergent parts
|
||
of the Empire, but rather to strengthen one part. Within a short time
|
||
Prague followed the example of Budapest; and later on came Lemberg,
|
||
Laibach and others. By raising these places which had formerly been
|
||
provincial towns to the rank of national cities, rallying centres were
|
||
provided for an independent cultural life. Through this the local
|
||
national instincts acquired a spiritual foundation and therewith gained
|
||
a more profound hold on the people. The time was bound to come when the
|
||
particularist interests of those various countries would become stronger
|
||
than their common imperial interests. Once that stage had been reached,
|
||
Austria's doom was sealed.
|
||
|
||
The course of this development was clearly perceptible since the death
|
||
of Joseph II. Its rapidity depended on a number of factors, some of
|
||
which had their source in the Monarchy itself; while others resulted
|
||
from the position which the Empire had taken in foreign politics.
|
||
|
||
It was impossible to make anything like a successful effort for the
|
||
permanent consolidation of the Austrian State unless a firm and
|
||
persistent policy of centralization were put into force. Before
|
||
everything else the principle should have been adopted that only one
|
||
common language could be used as the official language of the State.
|
||
Thus it would be possible to emphasize the formal unity of that imperial
|
||
commonwealth. And thus the administration would have in its hands a
|
||
technical instrument without which the State could not endure as a
|
||
political unity. In the same way the school and other forms of education
|
||
should have been used to inculcate a feeling of common citizenship. Such
|
||
an objective could not be reached within ten or twenty years. The effort
|
||
would have to be envisaged in terms of centuries; just as in all
|
||
problems of colonization, steady perseverance is a far more important
|
||
element than the output of energetic effort at the moment.
|
||
|
||
It goes without saying that in such circumstances the country must be
|
||
governed and administered by strictly adhering to the principle of
|
||
uniformity.
|
||
|
||
For me it was quite instructive to discover why this did not take place,
|
||
or rather why it was not done. Those who were guilty of the omission
|
||
must be held responsible for the break-up of the Habsburg Empire.
|
||
|
||
More than any other State, the existence of the old Austria depended on
|
||
a strong and capable Government. The Habsburg Empire lacked ethnical
|
||
uniformity, which constitutes the fundamental basis of a national State
|
||
and will preserve the existence of such a State even though the ruling
|
||
power should be grossly inefficient. When a State is composed of a
|
||
homogeneous population, the natural inertia of such a population will
|
||
hold the Stage together and maintain its existence through astonishingly
|
||
long periods of misgovernment and maladministration. It may often seem
|
||
as if the principle of life had died out in such a body-politic; but a
|
||
time comes when the apparent corpse rises up and displays before the
|
||
world an astonishing manifestation of its indestructible vitality.
|
||
|
||
But the situation is utterly different in a country where the population
|
||
is not homogeneous, where there is no bond of common blood but only that
|
||
of one ruling hand. Should the ruling hand show signs of weakness in
|
||
such a State the result will not be to cause a kind of hibernation of
|
||
the State but rather to awaken the individualist instincts which are
|
||
slumbering in the ethnological groups. These instincts do not make
|
||
themselves felt as long as these groups are dominated by a strong
|
||
central will-to-govern. The danger which exists in these slumbering
|
||
separatist instincts can be rendered more or less innocuous only through
|
||
centuries of common education, common traditions and common interests.
|
||
The younger such States are, the more their existence will depend on the
|
||
ability and strength of the central government. If their foundation was
|
||
due only to the work of a strong personality or a leader who is a man of
|
||
genius, in many cases they will break up as soon as the founder
|
||
disappears; because, though great, he stood alone. But even after
|
||
centuries of a common education and experiences these separatist
|
||
instincts I have spoken of are not always completely overcome. They may
|
||
be only dormant and may suddenly awaken when the central government
|
||
shows weakness and the force of a common education as well as the
|
||
prestige of a common tradition prove unable to withstand the vital
|
||
energies of separatist nationalities forging ahead towards the shaping
|
||
of their own individual existence.
|
||
|
||
The failure to see the truth of all this constituted what may be called
|
||
the tragic crime of the Habsburg rulers.
|
||
|
||
Only before the eyes of one Habsburg ruler, and that for the last time,
|
||
did the hand of Destiny hold aloft the torch that threw light on the
|
||
future of his country. But the torch was then extinguished for ever.
|
||
|
||
Joseph II, Roman Emperor of the German nation, was filled with a growing
|
||
anxiety when he realized the fact that his House was removed to an
|
||
outlying frontier of his Empire and that the time would soon be at hand
|
||
when it would be overturned and engulfed in the whirlpool caused by that
|
||
Babylon of nationalities, unless something was done at the eleventh hour
|
||
to overcome the dire consequences resulting from the negligence of his
|
||
ancestors. With superhuman energy this 'Friend of Mankind' made every
|
||
possible effort to counteract the effects of the carelessness and
|
||
thoughtlessness of his predecessors. Within one decade he strove to
|
||
repair the damage that had been done through centuries. If Destiny had
|
||
only granted him forty years for his labours, and if only two
|
||
generations had carried on the work which he had started, the miracle
|
||
might have been performed. But when he died, broken in body and spirit
|
||
after ten years of rulership, his work sank with him into the grave and
|
||
rests with him there in the Capucin Crypt, sleeping its eternal sleep,
|
||
having never again showed signs of awakening.
|
||
|
||
His successors had neither the ability nor the will-power necessary for
|
||
the task they had to face.
|
||
|
||
When the first signs of a new revolutionary epoch appeared in Europe
|
||
they gradually scattered the fire throughout Austria. And when the fire
|
||
began to glow steadily it was fed and fanned not by the social or
|
||
political conditions but by forces that had their origin in the
|
||
nationalist yearnings of the various ethnic groups.
|
||
|
||
The European revolutionary movement of 1848 primarily took the form of a
|
||
class conflict in almost every other country, but in Austria it took the
|
||
form of a new racial struggle. In so far as the German-Austrians there
|
||
forgot the origins of the movement, or perhaps had failed to recognize
|
||
them at the start and consequently took part in the revolutionary
|
||
uprising, they sealed their own fate. For they thus helped to awaken the
|
||
spirit of Western Democracy which, within a short while, shattered the
|
||
foundations of their own existence.
|
||
|
||
The setting up of a representative parliamentary body, without insisting
|
||
on the preliminary that only one language should be used in all public
|
||
intercourse under the State, was the first great blow to the
|
||
predominance of the German element in the Dual Monarchy. From that
|
||
moment the State was also doomed to collapse sooner or later. All that
|
||
followed was nothing but the historical liquidation of an Empire.
|
||
|
||
To watch that process of progressive disintegration was a tragic and at
|
||
the same time an instructive experience. The execution of history's
|
||
decree was carried out in thousands of details. The fact that great
|
||
numbers of people went about blindfolded amid the manifest signs of
|
||
dissolution only proves that the gods had decreed the destruction of
|
||
Austria.
|
||
|
||
I do not wish to dwell on details because that would lie outside the
|
||
scope of this book. I want to treat in detail only those events which
|
||
are typical among the causes that lead to the decline of nations and
|
||
States and which are therefore of importance to our present age.
|
||
Moreover, the study of these events helped to furnish the basis of my
|
||
own political outlook.
|
||
|
||
Among the institutions which most clearly manifested unmistakable signs
|
||
of decay, even to the weak-sighted Philistine, was that which, of all
|
||
the institutions of State, ought to have been the most firmly founded--I
|
||
mean the Parliament, or the Reichsrat (Imperial Council) as it was
|
||
called in Austria.
|
||
|
||
The pattern for this corporate body was obviously that which existed in
|
||
England, the land of classic democracy. The whole of that excellent
|
||
organization was bodily transferred to Austria with as little alteration
|
||
as possible.
|
||
|
||
As the Austrian counterpart to the British two-chamber system a Chamber
|
||
of Deputies and a House of Lords (HERRENHAUS) were established in
|
||
Vienna. The Houses themselves, considered as buildings were somewhat
|
||
different. When Barry built his palaces, or, as we say the Houses of
|
||
Parliament, on the shore of the Thames, he could look to the history of
|
||
the British Empire for the inspiration of his work. In that history he
|
||
found sufficient material to fill and decorate the 1,200 niches,
|
||
brackets, and pillars of his magnificent edifice. His statues and
|
||
paintings made the House of Lords and the House of Commons temples
|
||
dedicated to the glory of the nation.
|
||
|
||
There it was that Vienna encountered the first difficulty. When Hansen,
|
||
the Danish architect, had completed the last gable of the marble palace
|
||
in which the new body of popular representatives was to be housed he had
|
||
to turn to the ancient classical world for subjects to fill out his
|
||
decorative plan. This theatrical shrine of 'Western Democracy' was
|
||
adorned with the statues and portraits of Greek and Roman statesmen and
|
||
philosophers. As if it were meant for a symbol of irony, the horses of
|
||
the quadriga that surmounts the two Houses are pulling apart from one
|
||
another towards all four quarters of the globe. There could be no better
|
||
symbol for the kind of activity going on within the walls of that same
|
||
building.
|
||
|
||
The 'nationalities' were opposed to any kind of glorification of
|
||
Austrian history in the decoration of this building, insisting that such
|
||
would constitute an offence to them and a provocation. Much the same
|
||
happened in Germany, where the Reich-stag, built by Wallot, was not
|
||
dedicated to the German people until the cannons were thundering in the
|
||
World War. And then it was dedicated by an inscription.
|
||
|
||
I was not yet twenty years of age when I first entered the Palace on the
|
||
Franzens-ring to watch and listen in the Chamber of Deputies. That first
|
||
experience aroused in me a profound feeling of repugnance.
|
||
|
||
I had always hated the Parliament, but not as an institution in itself.
|
||
Quite the contrary. As one who cherished ideals of political freedom I
|
||
could not even imagine any other form of government. In the light of my
|
||
attitude towards the House of Habsburg I should then have considered it
|
||
a crime against liberty and reason to think of any kind of dictatorship
|
||
as a possible form of government.
|
||
|
||
A certain admiration which I had for the British Parliament contributed
|
||
towards the formation of this opinion. I became imbued with that feeling
|
||
of admiration almost without my being conscious of the effect of it
|
||
through so much reading of newspapers while I was yet quite young. I
|
||
could not discard that admiration all in a moment. The dignified way in
|
||
which the British House of Commons fulfilled its function impressed me
|
||
greatly, thanks largely to the glowing terms in which the Austrian Press
|
||
reported these events. I used to ask myself whether there could be any
|
||
nobler form of government than self-government by the people.
|
||
|
||
But these considerations furnished the very motives of my hostility to
|
||
the Austrian Parliament. The form in which parliamentary government was
|
||
here represented seemed unworthy of its great prototype. The following
|
||
considerations also influenced my attitude:
|
||
|
||
The fate of the German element in the Austrian State depended on its
|
||
position in Parliament. Up to the time that universal suffrage by secret
|
||
ballot was introduced the German representatives had a majority in the
|
||
Parliament, though that majority was not a very substantial one. This
|
||
situation gave cause for anxiety because the Social-Democratic fraction
|
||
of the German element could not be relied upon when national questions
|
||
were at stake. In matters that were of critical concern for the German
|
||
element, the Social-Democrats always took up an anti-German stand
|
||
because they were afraid of losing their followers among the other
|
||
national groups. Already at that time--before the introduction of
|
||
universal suffrage--the Social-Democratic Party could no longer be
|
||
considered as a German Party. The introduction of universal suffrage put
|
||
an end even to the purely numerical predominance of the German element.
|
||
The way was now clear for the further 'de-Germanization' of the Austrian
|
||
State.
|
||
|
||
The national instinct of self-preservation made it impossible for me to
|
||
welcome a representative system in which the German element was not
|
||
really represented as such, but always betrayed by the Social-Democratic
|
||
fraction. Yet all these, and many others, were defects which could not
|
||
be attributed to the parliamentary system as such, but rather to the
|
||
Austrian State in particular. I still believed that if the German
|
||
majority could be restored in the representative body there would be no
|
||
occasion to oppose such a system as long as the old Austrian State
|
||
continued to exist.
|
||
|
||
Such was my general attitude at the time when I first entered those
|
||
sacred and contentious halls. For me they were sacred only because of
|
||
the radiant beauty of that majestic edifice. A Greek wonder on German
|
||
soil.
|
||
|
||
But I soon became enraged by the hideous spectacle that met my eyes.
|
||
Several hundred representatives were there to discuss a problem of great
|
||
economical importance and each representative had the right to have his
|
||
say.
|
||
|
||
That experience of a day was enough to supply me with food for thought
|
||
during several weeks afterwards.
|
||
|
||
The intellectual level of the debate was quite low. Some times the
|
||
debaters did not make themselves intelligible at all. Several of those
|
||
present did not speak German but only their Slav vernaculars or
|
||
dialects. Thus I had the opportunity of hearing with my own ears what I
|
||
had been hitherto acquainted with only through reading the newspapers. A
|
||
turbulent mass of people, all gesticulating and bawling against one
|
||
another, with a pathetic old man shaking his bell and making frantic
|
||
efforts to call the House to a sense of its dignity by friendly appeals,
|
||
exhortations, and grave warnings.
|
||
|
||
I could not refrain from laughing.
|
||
|
||
Several weeks later I paid a second visit. This time the House presented
|
||
an entirely different picture, so much so that one could hardly
|
||
recognize it as the same place. The hall was practically empty. They
|
||
were sleeping in the other rooms below. Only a few deputies were in
|
||
their places, yawning in each other's faces. One was speechifying. A
|
||
deputy speaker was in the chair. When he looked round it was quite plain
|
||
that he felt bored.
|
||
|
||
Then I began to reflect seriously on the whole thing. I went to the
|
||
Parliament whenever I had any time to spare and watched the spectacle
|
||
silently but attentively. I listened to the debates, as far as they
|
||
could be understood, and I studied the more or less intelligent features
|
||
of those 'elect' representatives of the various nationalities which
|
||
composed that motley State. Gradually I formed my own ideas about what I
|
||
saw.
|
||
|
||
A year of such quiet observation was sufficient to transform or
|
||
completely destroy my former convictions as to the character of this
|
||
parliamentary institution. I no longer opposed merely the perverted form
|
||
which the principle of parliamentary representation had assumed in
|
||
Austria. No. It had become impossible for me to accept the system in
|
||
itself. Up to that time I had believed that the disastrous deficiencies
|
||
of the Austrian Parliament were due to the lack of a German majority,
|
||
but now I recognized that the institution itself was wrong in its very
|
||
essence and form.
|
||
|
||
A number of problems presented themselves before my mind. I studied more
|
||
closely the democratic principle of 'decision by the majority vote', and
|
||
I scrutinized no less carefully the intellectual and moral worth of the
|
||
gentlemen who, as the chosen representatives of the nation, were
|
||
entrusted with the task of making this institution function.
|
||
|
||
Thus it happened that at one and the same time I came to know the
|
||
institution itself and those of whom it was composed. And it was thus
|
||
that, within the course of a few years, I came to form a clear and vivid
|
||
picture of the average type of that most lightly worshipped phenomenon
|
||
of our time--the parliamentary deputy. The picture of him which I then
|
||
formed became deeply engraved on my mind and I have never altered it
|
||
since, at least as far as essentials go.
|
||
|
||
Once again these object-lessons taken from real life saved me from
|
||
getting firmly entangled by a theory which at first sight seems so
|
||
alluring to many people, though that theory itself is a symptom of human
|
||
decadence.
|
||
|
||
Democracy, as practised in Western Europe to-day, is the fore-runner of
|
||
Marxism. In fact, the latter would not be conceivable without the
|
||
former. Democracy is the breeding-ground in which the bacilli of the
|
||
Marxist world pest can grow and spread. By the introduction of
|
||
parliamentarianism, democracy produced an abortion of filth and fire
|
||
(Note 6), the creative fire of which, however, seems to have died out.
|
||
|
||
[Note 6. SPOTTGEBURT VON DRECK UND FEUER. This is the epithet that Faust
|
||
hurls at Mephistopheles as the latter intrudes on the conversation
|
||
between Faust and Martha in the garden:
|
||
|
||
Mephistopheles: Thou, full of sensual, super-sensual desire,
|
||
A girl by the nose is leading thee.
|
||
Faust: Abortion, thou of filth and fire.]
|
||
|
||
I am more than grateful to Fate that this problem came to my notice when
|
||
I was still in Vienna; for if I had been in Germany at that time I might
|
||
easily have found only a superficial solution. If I had been in Berlin
|
||
when I first discovered what an illogical thing this institution is
|
||
which we call Parliament, I might easily have gone to the other extreme
|
||
and believed--as many people believed, and apparently not without good
|
||
reason--that the salvation of the people and the Empire could be secured
|
||
only by restrengthening the principle of imperial authority. Those who
|
||
had this belief did not discern the tendencies of their time and were
|
||
blind to the aspirations of the people.
|
||
|
||
In Austria one could not be so easily misled. There it was impossible to
|
||
fall from one error into another. If the Parliament were worthless, the
|
||
Habsburgs were worse; or at least not in the slightest degree better.
|
||
The problem was not solved by rejecting the parliamentary system.
|
||
Immediately the question arose: What then? To repudiate and abolish the
|
||
Vienna Parliament would have resulted in leaving all power in the hands
|
||
of the Habsburgs. For me, especially, that idea was impossible.
|
||
|
||
Since this problem was specially difficult in regard to Austria, I was
|
||
forced while still quite young to go into the essentials of the whole
|
||
question more thoroughly than I otherwise should have done.
|
||
|
||
The aspect of the situation that first made the most striking impression
|
||
on me and gave me grounds for serious reflection was the manifest lack
|
||
of any individual responsibility in the representative body.
|
||
|
||
The parliament passes some acts or decree which may have the most
|
||
devastating consequences, yet nobody bears the responsibility for it.
|
||
Nobody can be called to account. For surely one cannot say that a
|
||
Cabinet discharges its responsibility when it retires after having
|
||
brought about a catastrophe. Or can we say that the responsibility is
|
||
fully discharged when a new coalition is formed or parliament dissolved?
|
||
Can the principle of responsibility mean anything else than the
|
||
responsibility of a definite person?
|
||
|
||
Is it at all possible actually to call to account the leaders of a
|
||
parliamentary government for any kind of action which originated in the
|
||
wishes of the whole multitude of deputies and was carried out under
|
||
their orders or sanction? Instead of developing constructive ideas and
|
||
plans, does the business of a statesman consist in the art of making a
|
||
whole pack of blockheads understand his projects? Is it his business to
|
||
entreat and coach them so that they will grant him their generous
|
||
consent?
|
||
|
||
Is it an indispensable quality in a statesman that he should possess a
|
||
gift of persuasion commensurate with the statesman's ability to conceive
|
||
great political measures and carry them through into practice?
|
||
|
||
Does it really prove that a statesman is incompetent if he should fail
|
||
to win over a majority of votes to support his policy in an assembly
|
||
which has been called together as the chance result of an electoral
|
||
system that is not always honestly administered.
|
||
|
||
Has there ever been a case where such an assembly has worthily appraised
|
||
a great political concept before that concept was put into practice and
|
||
its greatness openly demonstrated through its success?
|
||
|
||
In this world is not the creative act of the genius always a protest
|
||
against the inertia of the mass?
|
||
|
||
What shall the statesman do if he does not succeed in coaxing the
|
||
parliamentary multitude to give its consent to his policy? Shall he
|
||
purchase that consent for some sort of consideration?
|
||
|
||
Or, when confronted with the obstinate stupidity of his fellow citizens,
|
||
should he then refrain from pushing forward the measures which he deems
|
||
to be of vital necessity to the life of the nation? Should he retire or
|
||
remain in power?
|
||
|
||
In such circumstances does not a man of character find himself face to
|
||
face with an insoluble contradiction between his own political insight
|
||
on the one hand and, on the other, his moral integrity, or, better
|
||
still, his sense of honesty?
|
||
|
||
Where can we draw the line between public duty and personal honour?
|
||
|
||
Must not every genuine leader renounce the idea of degrading himself to
|
||
the level of a political jobber?
|
||
|
||
And, on the other hand, does not every jobber feel the itch to 'play
|
||
politics', seeing that the final responsibility will never rest with him
|
||
personally but with an anonymous mass which can never be called to
|
||
account for their deeds?
|
||
|
||
Must not our parliamentary principle of government by numerical majority
|
||
necessarily lead to the destruction of the principle of leadership?
|
||
|
||
Does anybody honestly believe that human progress originates in the
|
||
composite brain of the majority and not in the brain of the individual
|
||
personality?
|
||
|
||
Or may it be presumed that for the future human civilization will be
|
||
able to dispense with this as a condition of its existence?
|
||
|
||
But may it not be that, to-day, more than ever before, the creative
|
||
brain of the individual is indispensable?
|
||
|
||
The parliamentary principle of vesting legislative power in the decision
|
||
of the majority rejects the authority of the individual and puts a
|
||
numerical quota of anonymous heads in its place. In doing so it
|
||
contradicts the aristrocratic principle, which is a fundamental law of
|
||
nature; but, of course, we must remember that in this decadent era of
|
||
ours the aristrocratic principle need not be thought of as incorporated
|
||
in the upper ten thousand.
|
||
|
||
The devastating influence of this parliamentary institution might not
|
||
easily be recognized by those who read the Jewish Press, unless the
|
||
reader has learned how to think independently and examine the facts for
|
||
himself. This institution is primarily responsible for the crowded
|
||
inrush of mediocre people into the field of politics. Confronted with
|
||
such a phenomenon, a man who is endowed with real qualities of
|
||
leadership will be tempted to refrain from taking part in political
|
||
life; because under these circumstances the situation does not call for
|
||
a man who has a capacity for constructive statesmanship but rather for a
|
||
man who is capable of bargaining for the favour of the majority. Thus
|
||
the situation will appeal to small minds and will attract them
|
||
accordingly.
|
||
|
||
The narrower the mental outlook and the more meagre the amount of
|
||
knowledge in a political jobber, the more accurate is his estimate of
|
||
his own political stock, and thus he will be all the more inclined to
|
||
appreciate a system which does not demand creative genius or even
|
||
high-class talent; but rather that crafty kind of sagacity which makes
|
||
an efficient town clerk. Indeed, he values this kind of small craftiness
|
||
more than the political genius of a Pericles. Such a mediocrity does not
|
||
even have to worry about responsibility for what he does. From the
|
||
beginning he knows that whatever be the results of his 'statesmanship'
|
||
his end is already prescribed by the stars; he will one day have to
|
||
clear out and make room for another who is of similar mental calibre.
|
||
For it is another sign of our decadent times that the number of eminent
|
||
statesmen grows according as the calibre of individual personality
|
||
dwindles. That calibre will become smaller and smaller the more the
|
||
individual politician has to depend upon parliamentary majorities. A man
|
||
of real political ability will refuse to be the beadle for a bevy of
|
||
footling cacklers; and they in their turn, being the representatives of
|
||
the majority--which means the dunder-headed multitude--hate nothing so
|
||
much as a superior brain.
|
||
|
||
For footling deputies it is always quite a consolation to be led by a
|
||
person whose intellectual stature is on a level with their own. Thus
|
||
each one may have the opportunity to shine in debate among such compeers
|
||
and, above all, each one feels that he may one day rise to the top. If
|
||
Peter be boss to-day, then why not Paul tomorrow?
|
||
|
||
This new invention of democracy is very closely connected with a
|
||
peculiar phenomenon which has recently spread to a pernicious extent,
|
||
namely the cowardice of a large section of our so-called political
|
||
leaders. Whenever important decisions have to be made they always find
|
||
themselves fortunate in being able to hide behind the backs of what they
|
||
call the majority.
|
||
|
||
In observing one of these political manipulators one notices how he
|
||
wheedles the majority in order to get their sanction for whatever action
|
||
he takes. He has to have accomplices in order to be able to shift
|
||
responsibility to other shoulders whenever it is opportune to do so.
|
||
That is the main reason why this kind of political activity is abhorrent
|
||
to men of character and courage, while at the same time it attracts
|
||
inferior types; for a person who is not willing to accept responsibility
|
||
for his own actions, but is always seeking to be covered by something,
|
||
must be classed among the knaves and the rascals. If a national leader
|
||
should come from that lower class of politicians the evil consequences
|
||
will soon manifest themselves. Nobody will then have the courage to take
|
||
a decisive step. They will submit to abuse and defamation rather than
|
||
pluck up courage to take a definite stand. And thus nobody is left who
|
||
is willing to risk his position and his career, if needs be, in support
|
||
of a determined line of policy.
|
||
|
||
One truth which must always be borne in mind is that the majority can
|
||
never replace the man. The majority represents not only ignorance but
|
||
also cowardice. And just as a hundred blockheads do not equal one man of
|
||
wisdom, so a hundred poltroons are incapable of any political line of
|
||
action that requires moral strength and fortitude.
|
||
|
||
The lighter the burden of responsibility on each individual leader, the
|
||
greater will be the number of those who, in spite of their sorry
|
||
mediocrity, will feel the call to place their immortal energies at the
|
||
disposal of the nation. They are so much on the tip-toe of expectation
|
||
that they find it hard to wait their turn. They stand in a long queue,
|
||
painfully and sadly counting the number of those ahead of them and
|
||
calculating the hours until they may eventually come forward. They watch
|
||
every change that takes place in the personnel of the office towards
|
||
which their hopes are directed, and they are grateful for every scandal
|
||
which removes one of the aspirants waiting ahead of them in the queue.
|
||
If somebody sticks too long to his office stool they consider this as
|
||
almost a breach of a sacred understanding based on their mutual
|
||
solidarity. They grow furious and give no peace until that inconsiderate
|
||
person is finally driven out and forced to hand over his cosy berth for
|
||
public disposal. After that he will have little chance of getting
|
||
another opportunity. Usually those placemen who have been forced to give
|
||
up their posts push themselves again into the waiting queue unless they
|
||
are hounded away by the protestations of the other aspirants.
|
||
|
||
The result of all this is that, in such a State, the succession of
|
||
sudden changes in public positions and public offices has a very
|
||
disquieting effect in general, which may easily lead to disaster when an
|
||
adverse crisis arises. It is not only the ignorant and the incompetent
|
||
person who may fall victim to those parliamentary conditions, for the
|
||
genuine leader may be affected just as much as the others, if not more
|
||
so, whenever Fate has chanced to place a capable man in the position of
|
||
leader. Let the superior quality of such a leader be once recognized and
|
||
the result will be that a joint front will be organized against him,
|
||
particularly if that leader, though not coming from their ranks, should
|
||
fall into the habit of intermingling with these illustrious nincompoops
|
||
on their own level. They want to have only their own company and will
|
||
quickly take a hostile attitude towards any man who might show himself
|
||
obviously above and beyond them when he mingles in their ranks. Their
|
||
instinct, which is so blind in other directions, is very sharp in this
|
||
particular.
|
||
|
||
The inevitable result is that the intellectual level of the ruling class
|
||
sinks steadily. One can easily forecast how much the nation and State
|
||
are bound to suffer from such a condition of affairs, provided one does
|
||
not belong to that same class of 'leaders'.
|
||
|
||
The parliamentary r<>gime in the old Austria was the very archetype of
|
||
the institution as I have described it.
|
||
|
||
Though the Austrian Prime Minister was appointed by the King-Emperor,
|
||
this act of appointment merely gave practical effect to the will of the
|
||
parliament. The huckstering and bargaining that went on in regard to
|
||
every ministerial position showed all the typical marks of Western
|
||
Democracy. The results that followed were in keeping with the principles
|
||
applied. The intervals between the replacement of one person by another
|
||
gradually became shorter, finally ending up in a wild relay chase. With
|
||
each change the quality of the 'statesman' in question deteriorated,
|
||
until finally only the petty type of political huckster remained. In
|
||
such people the qualities of statesmanship were measured and valued
|
||
according to the adroitness with which they pieced together one
|
||
coalition after another; in other words, their craftiness in
|
||
manipulating the pettiest political transactions, which is the only kind
|
||
of practical activity suited to the aptitudes of these representatives.
|
||
|
||
In this sphere Vienna was the school which offered the most impressive
|
||
examples.
|
||
|
||
Another feature that engaged my attention quite as much as the features
|
||
I have already spoken of was the contrast between the talents and
|
||
knowledge of these representatives of the people on the one hand and, on
|
||
the other, the nature of the tasks they had to face. Willingly or
|
||
unwillingly, one could not help thinking seriously of the narrow
|
||
intellectual outlook of these chosen representatives of the various
|
||
constituent nationalities, and one could not avoid pondering on the
|
||
methods through which these noble figures in our public life were first
|
||
discovered.
|
||
|
||
It was worth while to make a thorough study and examination of the way
|
||
in which the real talents of these gentlemen were devoted to the service
|
||
of their country; in other words, to analyse thoroughly the technical
|
||
procedure of their activities.
|
||
|
||
The whole spectacle of parliamentary life became more and more desolate
|
||
the more one penetrated into its intimate structure and studied the
|
||
persons and principles of the system in a spirit of ruthless
|
||
objectivity. Indeed, it is very necessary to be strictly objective in
|
||
the study of the institution whose sponsors talk of 'objectivity' in
|
||
every other sentence as the only fair basis of examination and judgment.
|
||
If one studied these gentlemen and the laws of their strenuous existence
|
||
the results were surprising.
|
||
|
||
There is no other principle which turns out to be quite so ill-conceived
|
||
as the parliamentary principle, if we examine it objectively.
|
||
|
||
In our examination of it we may pass over the methods according to which
|
||
the election of the representatives takes place, as well as the ways
|
||
which bring them into office and bestow new titles on them. It is quite
|
||
evident that only to a tiny degree are public wishes or public
|
||
necessities satisfied by the manner in which an election takes place;
|
||
for everybody who properly estimates the political intelligence of the
|
||
masses can easily see that this is not sufficiently developed to enable
|
||
them to form general political judgments on their own account, or to
|
||
select the men who might be competent to carry out their ideas in
|
||
practice.
|
||
|
||
Whatever definition we may give of the term 'public opinion', only a
|
||
very small part of it originates from personal experience or individual
|
||
insight. The greater portion of it results from the manner in which
|
||
public matters have been presented to the people through an
|
||
overwhelmingly impressive and persistent system of 'information'.
|
||
|
||
In the religious sphere the profession of a denominational belief is
|
||
largely the result of education, while the religious yearning itself
|
||
slumbers in the soul; so too the political opinions of the masses are
|
||
the final result of influences systematically operating on human
|
||
sentiment and intelligence in virtue of a method which is applied
|
||
sometimes with almost-incredible thoroughness and perseverance.
|
||
|
||
By far the most effective branch of political education, which in this
|
||
connection is best expressed by the word 'propaganda', is carried on by
|
||
the Press. The Press is the chief means employed in the process of
|
||
political 'enlightenment'. It represents a kind of school for adults.
|
||
This educational activity, however, is not in the hands of the State but
|
||
in the clutches of powers which are partly of a very inferior character.
|
||
While still a young man in Vienna I had excellent opportunities for
|
||
coming to know the men who owned this machine for mass instruction, as
|
||
well as those who supplied it with the ideas it distributed. At first I
|
||
was quite surprised when I realized how little time was necessary for
|
||
this dangerous Great Power within the State to produce a certain belief
|
||
among the public; and in doing so the genuine will and convictions of
|
||
the public were often completely misconstrued. It took the Press only a
|
||
few days to transform some ridiculously trivial matter into an issue of
|
||
national importance, while vital problems were completely ignored or
|
||
filched and hidden away from public attention.
|
||
|
||
The Press succeeded in the magical art of producing names from nowhere
|
||
within the course of a few weeks. They made it appear that the great
|
||
hopes of the masses were bound up with those names. And so they made
|
||
those names more popular than any man of real ability could ever hope to
|
||
be in a long lifetime. All this was done, despite the fact that such
|
||
names were utterly unknown and indeed had never been heard of even up to
|
||
a month before the Press publicly emblazoned them. At the same time old
|
||
and tried figures in the political and other spheres of life quickly
|
||
faded from the public memory and were forgotten as if they were dead,
|
||
though still healthy and in the enjoyment of their full viguour. Or
|
||
sometimes such men were so vilely abused that it looked as if their
|
||
names would soon stand as permanent symbols of the worst kind of
|
||
baseness. In order to estimate properly the really pernicious influence
|
||
which the Press can exercise one had to study this infamous Jewish
|
||
method whereby honourable and decent people were besmirched with mud and
|
||
filth, in the form of low abuse and slander, from hundreds and hundreds
|
||
of quarters simultaneously, as if commanded by some magic formula.
|
||
|
||
These highway robbers would grab at anything which might serve their
|
||
evil ends.
|
||
|
||
They would poke their noses into the most intimate family affairs and
|
||
would not rest until they had sniffed out some petty item which could be
|
||
used to destroy the reputation of their victim. But if the result of all
|
||
this sniffing should be that nothing derogatory was discovered in the
|
||
private or public life of the victim, they continued to hurl abuse at
|
||
him, in the belief that some of their animadversions would stick even
|
||
though refuted a thousand times. In most cases it finally turned out
|
||
impossible for the victim to continue his defence, because the accuser
|
||
worked together with so many accomplices that his slanders were
|
||
re-echoed interminably. But these slanderers would never own that they
|
||
were acting from motives which influence the common run of humanity or
|
||
are understood by them. Oh, no. The scoundrel who defamed his
|
||
contemporaries in this villainous way would crown himself with a halo of
|
||
heroic probity fashioned of unctuous phraseology and twaddle about his
|
||
'duties as a journalist' and other mouldy nonsense of that kind. When
|
||
these cuttle-fishes gathered together in large shoals at meetings and
|
||
congresses they would give out a lot of slimy talk about a special kind
|
||
of honour which they called the professional honour of the journalist.
|
||
Then the assembled species would bow their respects to one another.
|
||
|
||
These are the kind of beings that fabricate more than two-thirds of what
|
||
is called public opinion, from the foam of which the parliamentary
|
||
Aphrodite eventually arises.
|
||
|
||
Several volumes would be needed if one were to give an adequate account
|
||
of the whole procedure and fully describe all its hollow fallacies. But
|
||
if we pass over the details and look at the product itself while it is
|
||
in operation I think this alone will be sufficient to open the eyes of
|
||
even the most innocent and credulous person, so that he may recognize
|
||
the absurdity of this institution by looking at it objectively.
|
||
|
||
In order to realize how this human aberration is as harmful as it is
|
||
absurd, the test and easiest method is to compare democratic
|
||
parliamentarianism with a genuine German democracy.
|
||
|
||
The remarkable characteristic of the parliamentary form of democracy is
|
||
the fact that a number of persons, let us say five hundred--including,
|
||
in recent time, women also--are elected to parliament and invested with
|
||
authority to give final judgment on anything and everything. In practice
|
||
they alone are the governing body; for although they may appoint a
|
||
Cabinet, which seems outwardly to direct the affairs of state, this
|
||
Cabinet has not a real existence of its own. In reality the so-called
|
||
Government cannot do anything against the will of the assembly. It can
|
||
never be called to account for anything, since the right of decision is
|
||
not vested in the Cabinet but in the parliamentary majority. The Cabinet
|
||
always functions only as the executor of the will of the majority. Its
|
||
political ability can be judged only according to how far it succeeds in
|
||
adjusting itself to the will of the majority or in persuading the
|
||
majority to agree to its proposals. But this means that it must descend
|
||
from the level of a real governing power to that of a mendicant who has
|
||
to beg the approval of a majority that may be got together for the time
|
||
being. Indeed, the chief preoccupation of the Cabinet must be to secure
|
||
for itself, in the case of' each individual measure, the favour of the
|
||
majority then in power or, failing that, to form a new majority that
|
||
will be more favourably disposed. If it should succeed in either of
|
||
these efforts it may go on 'governing' for a little while. If it should
|
||
fail to win or form a majority it must retire. The question whether its
|
||
policy as such has been right or wrong does not matter at all.
|
||
|
||
Thereby all responsibility is abolished in practice. To what
|
||
consequences such a state of affairs can lead may easily be understood
|
||
from the following simple considerations:
|
||
|
||
Those five hundred deputies who have been elected by the people come
|
||
from various dissimilar callings in life and show very varying degrees
|
||
of political capacity, with the result that the whole combination is
|
||
disjointed and sometimes presents quite a sorry picture. Surely nobody
|
||
believes that these chosen representatives of the nation are the choice
|
||
spirits or first-class intellects. Nobody, I hope, is foolish enough to
|
||
pretend that hundreds of statesmen can emerge from papers placed in the
|
||
ballot box by electors who are anything else but averagely intelligent.
|
||
The absurd notion that men of genius are born out of universal suffrage
|
||
cannot be too strongly repudiated. In the first place, those times may
|
||
be really called blessed when one genuine statesman makes his appearance
|
||
among a people. Such statesmen do not appear all at once in hundreds or
|
||
more. Secondly, among the broad masses there is instinctively a definite
|
||
antipathy towards every outstanding genius. There is a better chance of
|
||
seeing a camel pass through the eye of a needle than of seeing a really
|
||
great man 'discovered' through an election.
|
||
|
||
Whatever has happened in history above the level of the average of the
|
||
broad public has mostly been due to the driving force of an individual
|
||
personality.
|
||
|
||
But here five hundred persons of less than modest intellectual qualities
|
||
pass judgment on the most important problems affecting the nation. They
|
||
form governments which in turn learn to win the approval of the
|
||
illustrious assembly for every legislative step that may be taken, which
|
||
means that the policy to be carried out is actually the policy of the
|
||
five hundred.
|
||
|
||
And indeed, generally speaking, the policy bears the stamp of its
|
||
origin.
|
||
|
||
But let us pass over the intellectual qualities of these representatives
|
||
and ask what is the nature of the task set before them. If we consider
|
||
the fact that the problems which have to be discussed and solved belong
|
||
to the most varied and diverse fields we can very well realize how
|
||
inefficient a governing system must be which entrusts the right of
|
||
decision to a mass assembly in which only very few possess the knowledge
|
||
and experience such as would qualify them to deal with the matters that
|
||
have to be settled. The most important economic measures are submitted
|
||
to a tribunal in which not more than one-tenth of the members have
|
||
studied the elements of economics. This means that final authority is
|
||
vested in men who are utterly devoid of any preparatory training which
|
||
might make them competent to decide on the questions at issue.
|
||
|
||
The same holds true of every other problem. It is always a majority of
|
||
ignorant and incompetent people who decide on each measure; for the
|
||
composition of the institution does not vary, while the problems to be
|
||
dealt with come from the most varied spheres of public life. An
|
||
intelligent judgment would be possible only if different deputies had
|
||
the authority to deal with different issues. It is out of the question
|
||
to think that the same people are fitted to decide on transport
|
||
questions as well as, let us say, on questions of foreign policy, unless
|
||
each of them be a universal genius. But scarcely more than one genius
|
||
appears in a century. Here we are scarcely ever dealing with real
|
||
brains, but only with dilettanti who are as narrow-minded as they are
|
||
conceited and arrogant, intellectual DEMI-MONDES of the worst kind. This
|
||
is why these honourable gentlemen show such astonishing levity in
|
||
discussing and deciding on matters that would demand the most
|
||
painstaking consideration even from great minds. Measures of momentous
|
||
importance for the future existence of the State are framed and
|
||
discussed in an atmosphere more suited to the card-table. Indeed the
|
||
latter suggests a much more fitting occupation for these gentlemen than
|
||
that of deciding the destinies of a people.
|
||
|
||
Of course it would be unfair to assume that each member in such a
|
||
parliament was endowed by nature with such a small sense of
|
||
responsibility. That is out of the question.
|
||
|
||
But this system, by forcing the individual to pass judgment on questions
|
||
for which he is not competent gradually debases his moral character.
|
||
Nobody will have the courage to say: "Gentlemen, I am afraid we know
|
||
nothing about what we are talking about. I for one have no competency in
|
||
the matter at all." Anyhow if such a declaration were made it would not
|
||
change matters very much; for such outspoken honesty would not be
|
||
understood. The person who made the declaration would be deemed an
|
||
honourable ass who ought not to be allowed to spoil the game. Those who
|
||
have a knowledge of human nature know that nobody likes to be considered
|
||
a fool among his associates; and in certain circles honesty is taken as
|
||
an index of stupidity.
|
||
|
||
Thus it happens that a naturally upright man, once he finds himself
|
||
elected to parliament, may eventually be induced by the force of
|
||
circumstances to acquiesce in a general line of conduct which is base in
|
||
itself and amounts to a betrayal of the public trust. That feeling that
|
||
if the individual refrained from taking part in a certain decision his
|
||
attitude would not alter the situation in the least, destroys every real
|
||
sense of honour which might occasionally arouse the conscience of one
|
||
person or another. Finally, the otherwise upright deputy will succeed in
|
||
persuading himself that he is by no means the worst of the lot and that
|
||
by taking part in a certain line of action he may prevent something
|
||
worse from happening.
|
||
|
||
A counter argument may be put forward here. It may be said that of
|
||
course the individual member may not have the knowledge which is
|
||
requisite for the treatment of this or that question, yet his attitude
|
||
towards it is taken on the advice of his Party as the guiding authority
|
||
in each political matter; and it may further be said that the Party sets
|
||
up special committees of experts who have even more than the requisite
|
||
knowledge for dealing with the questions placed before them.
|
||
|
||
At first sight, that argument seems sound. But then another question
|
||
arises--namely, why are five hundred persons elected if only a few have
|
||
the wisdom which is required to deal with the more important problems?
|
||
|
||
It is not the aim of our modern democratic parliamentary system to bring
|
||
together an assembly of intelligent and well-informed deputies. Not at
|
||
all. The aim rather is to bring together a group of nonentities who are
|
||
dependent on others for their views and who can be all the more easily
|
||
led, the narrower the mental outlook of each individual is. That is the
|
||
only way in which a party policy, according to the evil meaning it has
|
||
to-day, can be put into effect. And by this method alone it is possible
|
||
for the wirepuller, who exercises the real control, to remain in the
|
||
dark, so that personally he can never be brought to account for his
|
||
actions. For under such circumstances none of the decisions taken, no
|
||
matter how disastrous they may turn out for the nation as a whole, can
|
||
be laid at the door of the individual whom everybody knows to be the
|
||
evil genius responsible for the whole affair. All responsibility is
|
||
shifted to the shoulders of the Party as a whole.
|
||
|
||
In practice no actual responsibility remains. For responsibility arises
|
||
only from personal duty and not from the obligations that rest with a
|
||
parliamentary assembly of empty talkers.
|
||
|
||
The parliamentary institution attracts people of the badger type, who do
|
||
not like the open light. No upright man, who is ready to accept personal
|
||
responsibility for his acts, will be attracted to such an institution.
|
||
|
||
That is the reason why this brand of democracy has become a tool in the
|
||
hand of that race which, because of the inner purposes it wishes to
|
||
attain, must shun the open light, as it has always done and always will
|
||
do. Only a Jew can praise an institution which is as corrupt and false
|
||
as himself.
|
||
|
||
As a contrast to this kind of democracy we have the German democracy,
|
||
which is a true democracy; for here the leader is freely chosen and is
|
||
obliged to accept full responsibility for all his actions and omissions.
|
||
The problems to be dealt with are not put to the vote of the majority;
|
||
but they are decided upon by the individual, and as a guarantee of
|
||
responsibility for those decisions he pledges all he has in the world
|
||
and even his life.
|
||
|
||
The objection may be raised here that under such conditions it would be
|
||
very difficult to find a man who would be ready to devote himself to so
|
||
fateful a task. The answer to that objection is as follows:
|
||
|
||
We thank God that the inner spirit of our German democracy will of
|
||
itself prevent the chance careerist, who may be intellectually worthless
|
||
and a moral twister, from coming by devious ways to a position in which
|
||
he may govern his fellow-citizens. The fear of undertaking such
|
||
far-reaching responsibilities, under German democracy, will scare off
|
||
the ignorant and the feckless.
|
||
|
||
But should it happen that such a person might creep in surreptitiously
|
||
it will be easy enough to identify him and apostrophize him ruthlessly.
|
||
somewhat thus: "Be off, you scoundrel. Don't soil these steps with your
|
||
feet; because these are the steps that lead to the portals of the
|
||
Pantheon of History, and they are not meant for place-hunters but for
|
||
men of noble character."
|
||
|
||
Such were the views I formed after two years of attendance at the
|
||
sessions of the Viennese Parliament. Then I went there no more.
|
||
|
||
The parliamentary regime became one of the causes why the strength of
|
||
the Habsburg State steadily declined during the last years of its
|
||
existence. The more the predominance of the German element was whittled
|
||
away through parliamentary procedure, the more prominent became the
|
||
system of playing off one of the various constituent nationalities
|
||
against the other. In the Imperial Parliament it was always the German
|
||
element that suffered through the system, which meant that the results
|
||
were detrimental to the Empire as a whole; for at the close of the
|
||
century even the most simple-minded people could recognize that the
|
||
cohesive forces within the Dual Monarchy no longer sufficed to
|
||
counterbalance the separatist tendencies of the provincial
|
||
nationalities. On the contrary!
|
||
|
||
The measures which the State adopted for its own maintenance became more
|
||
and more mean spirited and in a like degree the general disrespect for
|
||
the State increased. Not only Hungary but also the various Slav
|
||
provinces gradually ceased to identify themselves with the monarchy
|
||
which embraced them all, and accordingly they did not feel its weakness
|
||
as in any way detrimental to themselves. They rather welcomed those
|
||
manifestations of senile decay. They looked forward to the final
|
||
dissolution of the State, and not to its recovery.
|
||
|
||
The complete collapse was still forestalled in Parliament by the
|
||
humiliating concessions that were made to every kind of importunate
|
||
demands, at the cost of the German element. Throughout the country the
|
||
defence of the State rested on playing off the various nationalities
|
||
against one another. But the general trend of this development was
|
||
directed against the Germans. Especially since the right of succession
|
||
to the throne conferred certain influence on the Archduke Franz
|
||
Ferdinand, the policy of increasing the power of the Czechs was carried
|
||
out systematically from the upper grades of the administration down to
|
||
the lower. With all the means at his command the heir to the Dual
|
||
Monarchy personally furthered the policy that aimed at eliminating the
|
||
influence of the German element, or at least he acted as protector of
|
||
that policy. By the use of State officials as tools, purely German
|
||
districts were gradually but decisively brought within the danger zone
|
||
of the mixed languages. Even in Lower Austria this process began to make
|
||
headway with a constantly increasing tempo and Vienna was looked upon by
|
||
the Czechs as their biggest city.
|
||
|
||
In the family circle of this new Habsburger the Czech language was
|
||
favoured. The wife of the Archduke had formerly been a Czech Countess
|
||
and was wedded to the Prince by a morganatic marriage. She came from an
|
||
environment where hostility to the Germans had been traditional. The
|
||
leading idea in the mind of the Archduke was to establish a Slav State
|
||
in Central Europe, which was to be constructed on a purely Catholic
|
||
basis, so as to serve as a bulwark against Orthodox Russia.
|
||
|
||
As had happened often in Habsburg history, religion was thus exploited
|
||
to serve a purely political policy, and in this case a fatal policy, at
|
||
least as far as German interests were concerned. The result was
|
||
lamentable in many respects.
|
||
|
||
Neither the House of Habsburg nor the Catholic Church received the
|
||
reward which they expected. Habsburg lost the throne and the Church lost
|
||
a great State. By employing religious motives in the service of
|
||
politics, a spirit was aroused which the instigators of that policy had
|
||
never thought possible.
|
||
|
||
From the attempt to exterminate Germanism in the old monarchy by every
|
||
available means arose the Pan-German Movement in Austria, as a response.
|
||
|
||
In the 'eighties of the last century Manchester Liberalism, which was
|
||
Jewish in its fundamental ideas, had reached the zenith of its influence
|
||
in the Dual Monarchy, or had already passed that point. The reaction
|
||
which set in did not arise from social but from nationalistic
|
||
tendencies, as was always the case in the old Austria. The instinct of
|
||
self-preservation drove the German element to defend itself
|
||
energetically. Economic considerations only slowly began to gain an
|
||
important influence; but they were of secondary concern. But of the
|
||
general political chaos two party organizations emerged. The one was
|
||
more of a national, and the other more of a social, character; but both
|
||
were highly interesting and instructive for the future.
|
||
|
||
After the war of 1866, which had resulted in the humiliation of Austria,
|
||
the House of Habsburg contemplated a REVANCHE on the battlefield. Only
|
||
the tragic end of the Emperor Maximilian of Mexico prevented a still
|
||
closer collaboration with France. The chief blame for Maximilian's
|
||
disastrous expedition was attributed to Napoleon III and the fact that
|
||
the Frenchman left him in the lurch aroused a general feeling of
|
||
indignation. Yet the Habsburgs were still lying in wait for their
|
||
opportunity. If the war of 1870-71 had not been such a singular triumph,
|
||
the Viennese Court might have chanced the game of blood in order to get
|
||
its revenge for Sadowa. But when the first reports arrived from the
|
||
Franco-German battlefield, which, though true, seemed miraculous and
|
||
almost incredible, the 'most wise' of all monarchs recognized that the
|
||
moment was inopportune and tried to accept the unfavourable situation
|
||
with as good a grace as possible.
|
||
|
||
The heroic conflict of those two years (1870-71) produced a still
|
||
greater miracle; for with the Habsburgs the change of attitude never
|
||
came from an inner heartfelt urge but only from the pressure of
|
||
circumstances. The German people of the East Mark, however, were
|
||
entranced by the triumphant glory of the newly established German Empire
|
||
and were profoundly moved when they saw the dream of their fathers
|
||
resurgent in a magnificent reality.
|
||
|
||
For--let us make no mistake about it--the true German-Austrian realized
|
||
from this time onward, that K<>niggr<67>tz was the tragic, though necessary,
|
||
pre-condition for the re-establishment of an Empire which should no
|
||
longer be burdened with the palsy of the old alliance and which indeed
|
||
had no share in that morbid decay. Above all, the German-Austrian had
|
||
come to feel in the very depths of his own being that the historical
|
||
mission of the House of Habsburg had come to an end and that the new
|
||
Empire could choose only an Emperor who was of heroic mould and was
|
||
therefore worthy to wear the 'Crown of the Rhine'. It was right and just
|
||
that Destiny should be praised for having chosen a scion of that House
|
||
of which Frederick the Great had in past times given the nation an
|
||
elevated and resplendent symbol for all time to come.
|
||
|
||
After the great war of 1870-71 the House of Habsburg set to work with
|
||
all its determination to exterminate the dangerous German element--about
|
||
whose inner feelings and attitude there could be no doubt--slowly but
|
||
deliberately. I use the word exterminate, because that alone expresses
|
||
what must have been the final result of the Slavophile policy. Then it
|
||
was that the fire of rebellion blazed up among the people whose
|
||
extermination had been decreed. That fire was such as had never been
|
||
witnessed in modern German history.
|
||
|
||
For the first time nationalists and patriots were transformed into
|
||
rebels.
|
||
|
||
Not rebels against the nation or the State as such but rebels against
|
||
that form of government which they were convinced, would inevitably
|
||
bring about the ruin of their own people. For the first time in modern
|
||
history the traditional dynastic patriotism and national love of
|
||
fatherland and people were in open conflict.
|
||
|
||
It was to the merit of the Pan-German movement in Austria during the
|
||
closing decade of the last century that it pointed out clearly and
|
||
unequivocally that a State is entitled to demand respect and protection
|
||
for its authority only when such authority is administered in accordance
|
||
with the interests of the nation, or at least not in a manner
|
||
detrimental to those interests.
|
||
|
||
The authority of the State can never be an end in itself; for, if that
|
||
were so, any kind of tyranny would be inviolable and sacred.
|
||
|
||
If a government uses the instruments of power in its hands for the
|
||
purpose of leading a people to ruin, then rebellion is not only the
|
||
right but also the duty of every individual citizen.
|
||
|
||
The question of whether and when such a situation exists cannot be
|
||
answered by theoretical dissertations but only by the exercise of force,
|
||
and it is success that decides the issue.
|
||
|
||
Every government, even though it may be the worst possible and even
|
||
though it may have betrayed the nation's trust in thousands of ways,
|
||
will claim that its duty is to uphold the authority of the State. Its
|
||
adversaries, who are fighting for national self-preservation, must use
|
||
the same weapons which the government uses if they are to prevail
|
||
against such a rule and secure their own freedom and independence.
|
||
Therefore the conflict will be fought out with 'legal' means as long as
|
||
the power which is to be overthrown uses them; but the insurgents will
|
||
not hesitate to apply illegal means if the oppressor himself employs
|
||
them.
|
||
|
||
Generally speaking, we must not forget that the highest aim of human
|
||
existence is not the maintenance of a State of Government but rather the
|
||
conservation of the race.
|
||
|
||
If the race is in danger of being oppressed or even exterminated the
|
||
question of legality is only of secondary importance. The established
|
||
power may in such a case employ only those means which are recognized as
|
||
'legal'. yet the instinct of self-preservation on the part of the
|
||
oppressed will always justify, to the highest degree, the employment of
|
||
all possible resources.
|
||
|
||
Only on the recognition of this principle was it possible for those
|
||
struggles to be carried through, of which history furnishes magnificent
|
||
examples in abundance, against foreign bondage or oppression at home.
|
||
|
||
Human rights are above the rights of the State. But if a people be
|
||
defeated in the struggle for its human rights this means that its weight
|
||
has proved too light in the scale of Destiny to have the luck of being
|
||
able to endure in this terrestrial world.
|
||
|
||
The world is not there to be possessed by the faint-hearted races.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Austria affords a very clear and striking example of how easy it is for
|
||
tyranny to hide its head under the cloak of what is called 'legality'.
|
||
|
||
The legal exercise of power in the Habsburg State was then based on the
|
||
anti-German attitude of the parliament, with its non-German majorities,
|
||
and on the dynastic House, which was also hostile to the German element.
|
||
The whole authority of the State was incorporated in these two factors.
|
||
To attempt to alter the lot of the German element through these two
|
||
factors would have been senseless. Those who advised the 'legal' way as
|
||
the only possible way, and also obedience to the State authority, could
|
||
offer no resistance; because a policy of resistance could not have been
|
||
put into effect through legal measures. To follow the advice of the
|
||
legalist counsellors would have meant the inevitable ruin of the German
|
||
element within the Monarchy, and this disaster would not have taken long
|
||
to come. The German element has actually been saved only because the
|
||
State as such collapsed.
|
||
|
||
The spectacled theorist would have given his life for his doctrine
|
||
rather than for his people.
|
||
|
||
Because man has made laws he subsequently comes to think that he exists
|
||
for the sake of the laws.
|
||
|
||
A great service rendered by the pan-German movement then was that it
|
||
abolished all such nonsense, though the doctrinaire theorists and other
|
||
fetish worshippers were shocked.
|
||
|
||
When the Habsburgs attempted to come to close quarters with the German
|
||
element, by the employment of all the means of attack which they had at
|
||
their command, the Pan-German Party hit out ruthlessly against the
|
||
'illustrious' dynasty. This Party was the first to probe into and expose
|
||
the corrupt condition of the State; and in doing so they opened the eyes
|
||
of hundreds of thousands. To have liberated the high ideal of love for
|
||
one's country from the embrace of this deplorable dynasty was one of the
|
||
great services rendered by the Pan-German movement.
|
||
|
||
When that Party first made its appearance it secured a large
|
||
following--indeed, the movement threatened to become almost an
|
||
avalanche. But the first successes were not maintained. At the time I
|
||
came to Vienna the pan-German Party had been eclipsed by the
|
||
Christian-Socialist Party, which had come into power in the meantime.
|
||
Indeed, the Pan-German Party had sunk to a level of almost complete
|
||
insignificance.
|
||
|
||
The rise and decline of the Pan-German movement on the one hand and the
|
||
marvellous progress of the Christian-Socialist Party on the other,
|
||
became a classic object of study for me, and as such they played an
|
||
important part in the development of my own views.
|
||
|
||
When I came to Vienna all my sympathies were exclusively with the
|
||
Pan-German Movement.
|
||
|
||
I was just as much impressed by the fact that they had the courage to
|
||
shout HEIL HOHENZOLLERN as I rejoiced at their determination to consider
|
||
themselves an integral part of the German Empire, from which they were
|
||
separated only provisionally. They never missed an opportunity to
|
||
explain their attitude in public, which raised my enthusiasm and
|
||
confidence. To avow one's principles publicly on every problem that
|
||
concerned Germanism, and never to make any compromises, seemed to me the
|
||
only way of saving our people. What I could not understand was how this
|
||
movement broke down so soon after such a magnificent start; and it was
|
||
no less incomprehensible that the Christian-Socialists should gain such
|
||
tremendous power within such a short time. They had just reached the
|
||
pinnacle of their popularity.
|
||
|
||
When I began to compare those two movements Fate placed before me the
|
||
best means of understanding the causes of this puzzling problem. The
|
||
action of Fate in this case was hastened by my own straitened
|
||
circumstances.
|
||
|
||
I shall begin my analysis with an account of the two men who must be
|
||
regarded as the founders and leaders of the two movements. These were
|
||
George von Sch<63>nerer and Dr. Karl Lueger.
|
||
|
||
As far as personality goes, both were far above the level and stature of
|
||
the so-called parliamentary figures. They lived lives of immaculate and
|
||
irreproachable probity amidst the miasma of all-round political
|
||
corruption. Personally I first liked the Pan-German representative,
|
||
Sch<EFBFBD>nerer, and it was only afterwards and gradually that I felt an equal
|
||
liking for the Christian-Socialist leader.
|
||
|
||
When I compared their respective abilities Sch<63>nerer seemed to me a
|
||
better and more profound thinker on fundamental problems. He foresaw the
|
||
inevitable downfall of the Austrian State more clearly and accurately
|
||
than anyone else. If this warning in regard to the Habsburg Empire had
|
||
been heeded in Germany the disastrous world war, which involved Germany
|
||
against the whole of Europe, would never have taken place.
|
||
|
||
But though Sch<63>nerer succeeded in penetrating to the essentials of a
|
||
problem he was very often much mistaken in his judgment of men.
|
||
|
||
And herein lay Dr. Lueger's special talent. He had a rare gift of
|
||
insight into human nature and he was very careful not to take men as
|
||
something better than they were in reality. He based his plans on the
|
||
practical possibilities which human life offered him, whereas Sch<63>nerer
|
||
had only little discrimination in that respect. All ideas that this
|
||
Pan-German had were right in the abstract, but he did not have the
|
||
forcefulness or understanding necessary to put his ideas across to the
|
||
broad masses. He was not able to formulate them so that they could be
|
||
easily grasped by the masses, whose powers of comprehension are limited
|
||
and will always remain so. Therefore all Sch<63>nerer's knowledge was only
|
||
the wisdom of a prophet and he never could succeed in having it put into
|
||
practice.
|
||
|
||
This lack of insight into human nature led him to form a wrong estimate
|
||
of the forces behind certain movements and the inherent strength of old
|
||
institutions.
|
||
|
||
Sch<EFBFBD>nerer indeed realized that the problems he had to deal with were in
|
||
the nature of a WELTANSCHAUUNG; but he did not understand that only the
|
||
broad masses of a nation can make such convictions prevail, which are
|
||
almost of a religious nature.
|
||
|
||
Unfortunately he understood only very imperfectly how feeble is the
|
||
fighting spirit of the so-called bourgeoisie. That weakness is due to
|
||
their business interests, which individuals are too much afraid of
|
||
risking and which therefore deter them from taking action. And,
|
||
generally speaking, a WELTANSCHAUUNG can have no prospect of success
|
||
unless the broad masses declare themselves ready to act as its
|
||
standard-bearers and to fight on its behalf wherever and to whatever
|
||
extent that may be necessary.
|
||
|
||
This failure to understand the importance of the lower strata of the
|
||
population resulted in a very inadequate concept of the social problem.
|
||
|
||
In all this Dr. Lueger was the opposite of Sch<63>nerer. His profound
|
||
knowledge of human nature enabled him to form a correct estimate of the
|
||
various social forces and it saved him from under-rating the power of
|
||
existing institutions. And it was perhaps this very quality which
|
||
enabled him to utilize those institutions as a means to serve the
|
||
purposes of his policy.
|
||
|
||
He saw only too clearly that, in our epoch, the political fighting power
|
||
of the upper classes is quite insignificant and not at all capable of
|
||
fighting for a great new movement until the triumph of that movement be
|
||
secured. Thus he devoted the greatest part of his political activity to
|
||
the task of winning over those sections of the population whose
|
||
existence was in danger and fostering the militant spirit in them rather
|
||
than attempting to paralyse it. He was also quick to adopt all available
|
||
means for winning the support of long-established institutions, so as to
|
||
be able to derive the greatest possible advantage for his movement from
|
||
those old sources of power.
|
||
|
||
Thus it was that, first of all, he chose as the social basis of his new
|
||
Party that middle class which was threatened with extinction. In this
|
||
way he secured a solid following which was willing to make great
|
||
sacrifices and had good fighting stamina. His extremely wise attitude
|
||
towards the Catholic Church rapidly won over the younger clergy in such
|
||
large numbers that the old Clerical Party was forced to retire from the
|
||
field of action or else, which was the wiser course, join the new Party,
|
||
in the hope of gradually winning back one position after another.
|
||
|
||
But it would be a serious injustice to the man if we were to regard this
|
||
as his essential characteristic. For he possessed the qualities of an
|
||
able tactician, and had the true genius of a great reformer; but all
|
||
these were limited by his exact perception of the possibilities at hand
|
||
and also of his own capabilities.
|
||
|
||
The aims which this really eminent man decided to pursue were intensely
|
||
practical. He wished to conquer Vienna, the heart of the Monarchy. It
|
||
was from Vienna that the last pulses of life beat through the diseased
|
||
and worn-out body of the decrepit Empire. If the heart could be made
|
||
healthier the others parts of the body were bound to revive. That idea
|
||
was correct in principle; but the time within which it could be applied
|
||
in practice was strictly limited. And that was the man's weak point.
|
||
|
||
His achievements as Burgomaster of the City of Vienna are immortal, in
|
||
the best sense of the word. But all that could not save the Monarchy. It
|
||
came too late.
|
||
|
||
His rival, Sch<63>nerer, saw this more clearly. What Dr. Lueger undertook
|
||
to put into practice turned out marvellously successful. But the results
|
||
which he expected to follow these achievements did not come. Sch<63>nerer
|
||
did not attain the ends he had proposed to himself; but his fears were
|
||
realized, alas, in a terrible fashion. Thus both these men failed to
|
||
attain their further objectives. Lueger could not save Austria and
|
||
Sch<EFBFBD>nerer could not prevent the downfall of the German people in
|
||
Austria.
|
||
|
||
To study the causes of failure in the case of these two parties is to
|
||
learn a lesson that is highly instructive for our own epoch. This is
|
||
specially useful for my friends, because in many points the
|
||
circumstances of our own day are similar to those of that time.
|
||
Therefore such a lesson may help us to guard against the mistakes which
|
||
brought one of those movements to an end and rendered the other barren
|
||
of results.
|
||
|
||
In my opinion, the wreck of the Pan-German Movement in Austria must be
|
||
attributed to three causes.
|
||
|
||
The first of these consisted in the fact that the leaders did not have a
|
||
clear concept of the importance of the social problem, particularly for
|
||
a new movement which had an essentially revolutionary character.
|
||
Sch<EFBFBD>nerer and his followers directed their attention principally to the
|
||
bourgeois classes. For that reason their movement was bound to turn out
|
||
mediocre and tame. The German bourgeoisie, especially in its upper
|
||
circles, is pacifist even to the point of complete
|
||
self-abnegation--though the individual may not be aware of
|
||
this--wherever the internal affairs of the nation or State are
|
||
concerned. In good times, which in this case means times of good
|
||
government, such a psychological attitude makes this social layer
|
||
extraordinarily valuable to the State. But when there is a bad
|
||
government, such a quality has a destructive effect. In order to assure
|
||
the possibility of carrying through a really strenuous struggle, the
|
||
Pan-German Movement should have devoted its efforts to winning over the
|
||
masses. The failure to do this left the movement from the very beginning
|
||
without the elementary impulse which such a wave needs if it is not to
|
||
ebb within a short while.
|
||
|
||
In failing to see the truth of this principle clearly at the very outset
|
||
of the movement and in neglecting to put it into practice the new Party
|
||
made an initial mistake which could not possibly be rectified
|
||
afterwards. For the numerous moderate bourgeois elements admitted into
|
||
the movements increasingly determined its internal orientation and thus
|
||
forestalled all further prospects of gaining any appreciable support
|
||
among the masses of the people. Under such conditions such a movement
|
||
could not get beyond mere discussion and criticism. Quasi-religious
|
||
faith and the spirit of sacrifice were not to be found in the movement
|
||
any more. Their place was taken by the effort towards 'positive'
|
||
collaboration, which in this case meant the acknowledgment of the
|
||
existing state of affairs, gradually whittling away the rough corners of
|
||
the questions in dispute, and ending up with the making of a
|
||
dishonourable peace.
|
||
|
||
Such was the fate of the Pan-German Movement, because at the start the
|
||
leaders did not realize that the most important condition of success was
|
||
that they should recruit their following from the broad masses of the
|
||
people. The Movement thus became bourgeois and respectable and radical
|
||
only in moderation.
|
||
|
||
From this failure resulted the second cause of its rapid decline.
|
||
|
||
The position of the Germans in Austria was already desperate when
|
||
Pan-Germanism arose. Year after year Parliament was being used more and
|
||
more as an instrument for the gradual extinction of the German-Austrian
|
||
population. The only hope for any eleventh-hour effort to save it lay in
|
||
the overthrow of the parliamentary system; but there was very little
|
||
prospect of this happening.
|
||
|
||
Therewith the Pan-German Movement was confronted with a question of
|
||
primary importance.
|
||
|
||
To overthrow the Parliament, should the Pan-Germanists have entered it
|
||
'to undermine it from within', as the current phrase was? Or should they
|
||
have assailed the institution as such from the outside?
|
||
|
||
They entered the Parliament and came out defeated. But they had found
|
||
themselves obliged to enter.
|
||
|
||
For in order to wage an effective war against such a power from the
|
||
outside, indomitable courage and a ready spirit of sacrifice were
|
||
necessary weapons. In such cases the bull must be seized by the horns.
|
||
Furious drives may bring the assailant to the ground again and again;
|
||
but if he has a stout heart he will stand up, even though some bones may
|
||
be broken, and only after a long and tough struggle will he achieve his
|
||
triumph. New champions are attracted to a cause by the appeal of great
|
||
sacrifices made for its sake, until that indomitable spirit is finally
|
||
crowned with success.
|
||
|
||
For such a result, however, the children of the people from the great
|
||
masses are necessary. They alone have the requisite determination and
|
||
tenacity to fight a sanguinary issue through to the end. But the
|
||
Pan-German Movement did not have these broad masses as its champions,
|
||
and so no other means of solution could be tried out except that of
|
||
entering Parliamcnt.
|
||
|
||
It would be a mistake to think that this decision resulted from a long
|
||
series of internal hesitations of a moral kind, or that it was the
|
||
outcome of careful calculation. No. They did not even think of another
|
||
solution. Those who participated in this blunder were actuated by
|
||
general considerations and vague notions as to what would be the
|
||
significance and effect of taking part in such a special way in that
|
||
institution which they had condemned on principle. In general they hoped
|
||
that they would thus have the means of expounding their cause to the
|
||
great masses of the people, because they would be able to speak before
|
||
'the forum of the whole nation'. Also, it seemed reasonable to believe
|
||
that by attacking the evil in the root they would be more effective than
|
||
if the attack came from outside. They believed that, if protected by the
|
||
immunity of Parliament, the position of the individual protagonists
|
||
would be strengthened and that thus the force of their attacks would be
|
||
enhanced.
|
||
|
||
In reality everything turned out quite otherwise.
|
||
|
||
The Forum before which the Pan-German representatives spoke had not
|
||
grown greater, but had actually become smaller; for each spoke only to
|
||
the circle that was ready to listen to him or could read the report of
|
||
his speech in the newspapers.
|
||
|
||
But the greater forum of immediate listeners is not the parliamentary
|
||
auditorium: it is the large public meeting. For here alone will there be
|
||
thousands of men who have come simply to hear what a speaker has to say,
|
||
whereas in the parliamentary sittings only a few hundred are present;
|
||
and for the most part these are there only to earn their daily allowance
|
||
for attendance and not to be enlightened by the wisdom of one or other
|
||
of the 'representatives of the people'.
|
||
|
||
The most important consideration is that the same public is always
|
||
present and that this public does not wish to learn anything new;
|
||
because, setting aside the question of its intelligence, it lacks even
|
||
that modest quantum of will-power which is necessary for the effort of
|
||
learning.
|
||
|
||
Not one of the representatives of the people will pay homage to a
|
||
superior truth and devote himself to its service. No. Not one of these
|
||
gentry will act thus, except he has grounds for hoping that by such a
|
||
conversion he may be able to retain the representation of his
|
||
constituency in the coming legislature. Therefore, only when it becomes
|
||
quite clear that the old party is likely to have a bad time of it at the
|
||
forthcoming elections--only then will those models of manly virtue set
|
||
out in search of a new party or a new policy which may have better
|
||
electoral prospects; but of course this change of position will be
|
||
accompanied by a veritable deluge of high moral motives to justify it.
|
||
And thus it always happens that when an existing Party has incurred such
|
||
general disfavour among the public that it is threatened with the
|
||
probability of a crushing defeat, then a great migration commences. The
|
||
parliamentary rats leave the Party ship.
|
||
|
||
All this happens not because the individuals in the case have become
|
||
better informed on the questions at issue and have resolved to act
|
||
accordingly. These changes of front are evidence only of that gift of
|
||
clairvoyance which warns the parliamentary flea at the right moment and
|
||
enables him to hop into another warm Party bed.
|
||
|
||
To speak before such a forum signifies casting pearls before certain
|
||
animals.
|
||
|
||
Verily it does not repay the pains taken; for the result must always be
|
||
negative.
|
||
|
||
And that is actually what happened. The Pan-German representatives might
|
||
have talked themselves hoarse, but to no effect whatsoever.
|
||
|
||
The Press either ignored them totally or so mutilated their speeches
|
||
that the logical consistency was destroyed or the meaning twisted round
|
||
in such a way that the public got only a very wrong impression regarding
|
||
the aims of the new movement. What the individual members said was not
|
||
of importance. The important matter was what people read as coming from
|
||
them. This consisted of mere extracts which had been torn out of the
|
||
context of the speeches and gave an impression of incoherent nonsense,
|
||
which indeed was purposely meant. Thus the only public before which they
|
||
really spoke consisted merely of five hundred parliamentarians; and that
|
||
says enough.
|
||
|
||
The worst was the following:
|
||
|
||
The Pan-German Movement could hope for success only if the leaders
|
||
realized from the very first moment that here there was no question so
|
||
much of a new Party as of a new WELTANSCHAUUNG. This alone could arouse
|
||
the inner moral forces that were necessary for such a gigantic struggle.
|
||
And for this struggle the leaders must be men of first-class brains and
|
||
indomitable courage. If the struggle on behalf of a WELTANSCHAUUNG is
|
||
not conducted by men of heroic spirit who are ready to sacrifice,
|
||
everything, within a short while it will become impossible to find real
|
||
fighting followers who are ready to lay down their lives for the cause.
|
||
A man who fights only for his own existence has not much left over for
|
||
the service of the community.
|
||
|
||
In order to secure the conditions that are necessary for success,
|
||
everybody concerned must be made to understand that the new movement
|
||
looks to posterity for its honour and glory but that it has no
|
||
recompense to offer to the present-day members. If a movement should
|
||
offer a large number of positions and offices that are easily accessible
|
||
the number of unworthy candidates admitted to membership will be
|
||
constantly on the increase and eventually a day will come when there
|
||
will be such a preponderance of political profiteers among the
|
||
membership of a successful Party that the combatants who bore the brunt
|
||
of the battle in the earlier stages of the movement can now scarcely
|
||
recognize their own Party and may be ejected by the later arrivals as
|
||
unwanted ballast. Therewith the movement will no longer have a mission
|
||
to fulfil.
|
||
|
||
Once the Pan-Germanists decided to collaborate with Parliament they were
|
||
no longer leaders and combatants in a popular movement, but merely
|
||
parliamentarians. Thus the Movement sank to the common political party
|
||
level of the day and no longer had the strength to face a hostile fate
|
||
and defy the risk of martyrdom. Instead of fighting, the Pan-German
|
||
leaders fell into the habit of talking and negotiating. The new
|
||
parliamentarians soon found that it was a more satisfactory, because
|
||
less risky, way of fulfilling their task if they would defend the new
|
||
WELTANSCHAUUNG with the spiritual weapon of parliamentary rhetoric
|
||
rather than take up a fight in which they placed their lives in danger,
|
||
the outcome of which also was uncertain and even at the best could offer
|
||
no prospect of personal gain for themselves.
|
||
|
||
When they had taken their seats in Parliament their adherents outside
|
||
hoped and waited for miracles to happen. Naturally no such miracles
|
||
happened or could happen. Whereupon the adherents of the movement soon
|
||
grew impatient, because reports they read about their own deputies did
|
||
not in the least come up to what had been expected when they voted for
|
||
these deputies at the elections. The reason for this was not far to
|
||
seek. It was due to the fact that an unfriendly Press refrained from
|
||
giving a true account of what the Pan-German representatives of the
|
||
people were actually doing.
|
||
|
||
According as the new deputies got to like this mild form of
|
||
'revolutionary' struggle in Parliament and in the provincial diets they
|
||
gradually became reluctant to resume the more hazardous work of
|
||
expounding the principles of the movement before the broad masses of the
|
||
people.
|
||
|
||
Mass meetings in public became more and more rare, though these are the
|
||
only means of exercising a really effective influence on the people;
|
||
because here the influence comes from direct personal contact and in
|
||
this way the support of large sections of the people can be obtained.
|
||
|
||
When the tables on which the speakers used to stand in the great
|
||
beer-halls, addressing an assembly of thousands, were deserted for the
|
||
parliamentary tribune and the speeches were no longer addressed to the
|
||
people directly but to the so-called 'chosen' representatives, the
|
||
Pan-German Movement lost its popular character and in a little while
|
||
degenerated to the level of a more or less serious club where problems
|
||
of the day are discussed academically.
|
||
|
||
The wrong impression created by the Press was no longer corrected by
|
||
personal contact with the people through public meetings, whereby the
|
||
individual representatives might have given a true account of their
|
||
activities. The final result of this neglect was that the word
|
||
'Pan-German' came to have an unpleasant sound in the ears of the masses.
|
||
|
||
The knights of the pen and the literary snobs of to-day should be made
|
||
to realize that the great transformations which have taken place in this
|
||
world were never conducted by a goosequill. No. The task of the pen must
|
||
always be that of presenting the theoretical concepts which motivate
|
||
such changes. The force which has ever and always set in motion great
|
||
historical avalanches of religious and political movements is the magic
|
||
power of the spoken word.
|
||
|
||
The broad masses of a population are more amenable to the appeal of
|
||
rhetoric than to any other force. All great movements are popular
|
||
movements. They are the volcanic eruptions of human passions and
|
||
emotions, stirred into activity by the ruthless Goddess of Distress or
|
||
by the torch of the spoken word cast into the midst of the people. In no
|
||
case have great movements been set afoot by the syrupy effusions of
|
||
aesthetic litt<74>rateurs and drawing-room heroes.
|
||
|
||
The doom of a nation can be averted only by a storm of glowing passion;
|
||
but only those who are passionate themselves can arouse passion in
|
||
others. It is only through the capacity for passionate feeling that
|
||
chosen leaders can wield the power of the word which, like hammer blows,
|
||
will open the door to the hearts of the people.
|
||
|
||
He who is not capable of passionate feeling and speech was never chosen
|
||
by Providence to be the herald of its will. Therefore a writer should
|
||
stick to his ink-bottle and busy himself with theoretical questions if
|
||
he has the requisite ability and knowledge. He has not been born or
|
||
chosen to be a leader.
|
||
|
||
A movement which has great ends to achieve must carefully guard against
|
||
the danger of losing contact with the masses of the people. Every
|
||
problem encountered must be examined from this viewpoint first of all
|
||
and the decision to be made must always be in harmony with this
|
||
principle.
|
||
|
||
The movement must avoid everything which might lessen or weaken its
|
||
power of influencing the masses; not from demagogical motives but
|
||
because of the simple fact that no great idea, no matter how sublime and
|
||
exalted it may appear, can be realized in practice without the effective
|
||
power which resides in the popular masses. Stern reality alone must mark
|
||
the way to the goal. To be unwilling to walk the road of hardship means,
|
||
only too often in this world, the total renunciation of our aims and
|
||
purposes, whether that renunciation be consciously willed or not.
|
||
|
||
The moment the Pan-German leaders, in virtue of their acceptance of the
|
||
parliamentary principle, moved the centre of their activities away from
|
||
the people and into Parliament, in that moment they sacrificed the
|
||
future for the sake of a cheap momentary success. They chose the easier
|
||
way in the struggle and in doing so rendered themselves unworthy of the
|
||
final victory.
|
||
|
||
While in Vienna I used to ponder seriously over these two questions, and
|
||
I saw that the main reason for the collapse of the Pan-German Movement
|
||
lay in the fact that these very questions were not rightly appreciated.
|
||
To my mind at that time the Movement seemed chosen to take in its hands
|
||
the leadership of the German element in Austria.
|
||
|
||
These first two blunders which led to the downfall of the Pan-German
|
||
Movement were very closely connected with one another. Faulty
|
||
recognition of the inner driving forces that urge great movements
|
||
forward led to an inadequate appreciation of the part which the broad
|
||
masses play in bringing about such changes. The result was that too
|
||
little attention was given to the social problem and that the attempts
|
||
made by the movement to capture the minds of the lower classes were too
|
||
few and too weak. Another result was the acceptance of the parliamentary
|
||
policy, which had a similar effect in regard to the importance of the
|
||
masses.
|
||
|
||
If there had been a proper appreciation of the tremendous powers of
|
||
endurance always shown by the masses in revolutionary movements a
|
||
different attitude towards the social problem would have been taken, and
|
||
also a different policy in the matter of propaganda. Then the centre of
|
||
gravity of the movement would not have been transferred to the
|
||
Parliament but would have remained in the workshops and in the streets.
|
||
|
||
There was a third mistake, which also had its roots in the failure to
|
||
understand the worth of the masses. The masses are first set in motion,
|
||
along a definite direction, by men of superior talents; but then these
|
||
masses once in motion are like a flywheel inasmuch as they sustain the
|
||
momentum and steady balance of the offensive.
|
||
|
||
The policy of the Pan-German leaders in deciding to carry through a
|
||
difficult fight against the Catholic Church can be explained only by
|
||
attributing it to an inadequate understanding of the spiritual character
|
||
of the people.
|
||
|
||
The reasons why the new Party engaged in a violent campaign against Rome
|
||
were as follows:
|
||
|
||
As soon as the House of Habsburg had definitely decided to transform
|
||
Austria into a Slav State all sorts of means were adopted which seemed
|
||
in any way serviceable for that purpose. The Habsburg rulers had no
|
||
scruples of conscience about exploiting even religious institutions in
|
||
the service of this new 'State Idea'. One of the many methods thus
|
||
employed was the use of Czech parishes and their clergy as instruments
|
||
for spreading Slav hegemony throughout Austria. This proceeding was
|
||
carried out as follows:
|
||
|
||
Parish priests of Czech nationality were appointed in purely German
|
||
districts. Gradually but steadily pushing forward the interests of the
|
||
Czech people before those of the Church, the parishes and their priests
|
||
became generative cells in the process of de-Germanization.
|
||
|
||
Unfortunately the German-Austrian clergy completely failed to counter
|
||
this procedure. Not only were they incapable of taking a similar
|
||
initiative on the German side, but they showed themselves unable to meet
|
||
the Czech offensive with adequate resistance. The German element was
|
||
accordingly pushed backwards, slowly but steadily, through the
|
||
perversion of religious belief for political ends on the one side, and
|
||
the Jack of proper resistance on the other side. Such were the tactics
|
||
used in dealing with the smaller problems; but those used in dealing
|
||
with the larger problems were not very different.
|
||
|
||
The anti-German aims pursued by the Habsburgs, especially through the
|
||
instrumentality of the higher clergy, did not meet with any vigorous
|
||
resistance, while the clerical representatives of the German interests
|
||
withdrew completely to the rear. The general impression created could
|
||
not be other than that the Catholic clergy as such were grossly
|
||
neglecting the rights of the German population.
|
||
|
||
Therefore it looked as if the Catholic Church was not in sympathy with
|
||
the German people but that it unjustly supported their adversaries. The
|
||
root of the whole evil, especially according to Sch<63>nerer's opinion, lay
|
||
in the fact that the leadership of the Catholic Church was not in
|
||
Germany, and that this fact alone was sufficient reason for the hostile
|
||
attitude of the Church towards the demands of our people.
|
||
|
||
The so-called cultural problem receded almost completely into the
|
||
background, as was generally the case everywhere throughout Austria at
|
||
that time. In assuming a hostile attitude towards the Catholic Church,
|
||
the Pan-German leaders were influenced not so much by the Church's
|
||
position in questions of science but principally by the fact that the
|
||
Church did not defend German rights, as it should have done, but always
|
||
supported those who encroached on these rights, especially then Slavs.
|
||
|
||
George Sch<63>nerer was not a man who did things by halves. He went into
|
||
battle against the Church because he was convinced that this was the
|
||
only way in which the German people could be saved. The LOS-VON-ROM
|
||
(Away from Rome) Movement seemed the most formidable, but at the same
|
||
time most difficult, method of attacking and destroying the adversary's
|
||
citadel. Sch<63>nerer believed that if this movement could be carried
|
||
through successfully the unfortunate division between the two great
|
||
religious denominations in Germany would be wiped out and that the inner
|
||
forces of the German Empire and Nation would be enormously enhanced by
|
||
such a victory.
|
||
|
||
But the premises as well as the conclusions in this case were both
|
||
erroneous.
|
||
|
||
It was undoubtedly true that the national powers of resistance, in
|
||
everything concerning Germanism as such, were much weaker among the
|
||
German Catholic clergy than among their non-German confr<66>res, especially
|
||
the Czechs. And only an ignorant person could be unaware of the fact
|
||
that it scarcely ever entered the mind of the German clergy to take the
|
||
offensive on behalf of German interests.
|
||
|
||
But at the same time everybody who is not blind to facts must admit that
|
||
all this should be attributed to a characteristic under which we Germans
|
||
have all been doomed to suffer. This characteristic shows itself in our
|
||
objective way of regarding our own nationality, as if it were something
|
||
that lay outside of us.
|
||
|
||
While the Czech priest adopted a subjective attitude towards his own
|
||
people and only an objective attitude towards the Church, the German
|
||
parish priest showed a subjective devotion to his Church and remained
|
||
objective in regard to his nation. It is a phenomenon which,
|
||
unfortunately for us, can be observed occurring in exactly the same way
|
||
in thousands of other cases.
|
||
|
||
It is by no means a peculiar inheritance from Catholicism; but it is
|
||
something in us which does not take long to gnaw the vitals of almost
|
||
every institution, especially institutions of State and those which have
|
||
ideal aims. Take, for example, the attitude of our State officials in
|
||
regard to the efforts made for bringing about a national resurgence and
|
||
compare that attitude with the stand which the public officials of any
|
||
other nation would have taken in such a case. Or is it to be believed
|
||
that the military officers of any other country in the world would
|
||
refuse to come forward on behalf of the national aspirations, but would
|
||
rather hide behind the phrase 'Authority of the State', as has been the
|
||
case in our country during the last five years and has even been deemed
|
||
a meritorious attitude? Or let us take another example. In regard to the
|
||
Jewish problem, do not the two Christian denominations take up a
|
||
standpoint to-day which does not respond to the national exigencies or
|
||
even the interests of religion? Consider the attitude of a Jewish Rabbi
|
||
towards any question, even one of quite insignificant importance,
|
||
concerning the Jews as a race, and compare his attitude with that of the
|
||
majority of our clergy, whether Catholic or Protestant.
|
||
|
||
We observe the same phenomenon wherever it is a matter of standing up
|
||
for some abstract idea.
|
||
|
||
'Authority of the State', 'Democracy', 'Pacifism', 'International
|
||
Solidarity', etc., all such notions become rigid, dogmatic concepts with
|
||
us; and the more vital the general necessities of the nation, the more
|
||
will they be judged exclusively in the light of those concepts.
|
||
|
||
This unfortunate habit of looking at all national demands from the
|
||
viewpoint of a pre-conceived notion makes it impossible for us to see
|
||
the subjective side of a thing which objectively contradicts one's own
|
||
doctrine. It finally leads to a complete reversion in the relation of
|
||
means to an end. Any attempt at a national revival will be opposed if
|
||
the preliminary condition of such a revival be that a bad and pernicious
|
||
regime must first of all be overthrown; because such an action will be
|
||
considered as a violation of the 'Authority of the State'. In the eyes
|
||
of those who take that standpoint, the 'Authority of the State' is not a
|
||
means which is there to serve an end but rather, to the mind of the
|
||
dogmatic believer in objectivity, it is an end in itself; and he looks
|
||
upon that as sufficient apology for his own miserable existence. Such
|
||
people would raise an outcry, if, for instance, anyone should attempt to
|
||
set up a dictatorship, even though the man responsible for it were
|
||
Frederick the Great and even though the politicians for the time being,
|
||
who constituted the parliamentary majority, were small and incompetent
|
||
men or maybe even on a lower grade of inferiority; because to such
|
||
sticklers for abstract principles the law of democracy is more sacred
|
||
than the welfare of the nation. In accordance with his principles, one
|
||
of these gentry will defend the worst kind of tyranny, though it may be
|
||
leading a people to ruin, because it is the fleeting embodiment of the
|
||
'Authority of the State', and another will reject even a highly
|
||
beneficent government if it should happen not to be in accord with his
|
||
notion of 'democracy'.
|
||
|
||
In the same way our German pacifist will remain silent while the nation
|
||
is groaning under an oppression which is being exercised by a sanguinary
|
||
military power, when this state of affairs gives rise to active
|
||
resistance; because such resistance means the employment of physical
|
||
force, which is against the spirit of the pacifist associations. The
|
||
German International Socialist may be rooked and plundered by his
|
||
comrades in all the other countries of the world in the name of
|
||
'solidarity', but he responds with fraternal kindness and never thinks
|
||
of trying to get his own back, or even of defending himself. And why?
|
||
Because he is a--German.
|
||
|
||
It may be unpleasant to dwell on such truths, but if something is to be
|
||
changed we must start by diagnosing the disease.
|
||
|
||
The phenomenon which I have just described also accounts for the feeble
|
||
manner in which German interests are promoted and defended by a section
|
||
of the clergy.
|
||
|
||
Such conduct is not the manifestation of a malicious intent, nor is it
|
||
the outcome of orders given from 'above', as we say; but such a lack of
|
||
national grit and determination is due to defects in our educational
|
||
system. For, instead of inculcating in the youth a lively sense of their
|
||
German nationality, the aim of the educational system is to make the
|
||
youth prostrate themselves in homage to the idea, as if the idea were an
|
||
idol.
|
||
|
||
The education which makes them the devotees of such abstract notions as
|
||
'Democracy', 'International Socialism', 'Pacifism', etc., is so
|
||
hard-and-fast and exclusive and, operating as it does from within
|
||
outwards, is so purely subjective that in forming their general picture
|
||
of outside life as a whole they are fundamentally influenced by these
|
||
A PRIORI notions. But, on the other hand, the attitude towards their own
|
||
German nationality has been very objective from youth upwards. The
|
||
Pacifist--in so far as he is a German--who surrenders himself
|
||
subjectively, body and soul, to the dictates of his dogmatic principles,
|
||
will always first consider the objective right or wrong of a situation
|
||
when danger threatens his own people, even though that danger be grave
|
||
and unjustly wrought from outside. But he will never take his stand in
|
||
the ranks of his own people and fight for and with them from the sheer
|
||
instinct of self-preservation.
|
||
|
||
Another example may further illustrate how far this applies to the
|
||
different religious denominations. In so far as its origin and tradition
|
||
are based on German ideals, Protestantism of itself defends those ideals
|
||
better. But it fails the moment it is called upon to defend national
|
||
interests which do not belong to the sphere of its ideals and
|
||
traditional development, or which, for some reason or other, may be
|
||
rejected by that sphere.
|
||
|
||
Therefore Protestantism will always take its part in promoting German
|
||
ideals as far as concerns moral integrity or national education, when
|
||
the German spiritual being or language or spiritual freedom are to be
|
||
defended: because these represent the principles on which Protestantism
|
||
itself is grounded. But this same Protestantism violently opposes every
|
||
attempt to rescue the nation from the clutches of its mortal enemy;
|
||
because the Protestant attitude towards the Jews is more or less rigidly
|
||
and dogmatically fixed. And yet this is the first problem which has to
|
||
be solved, unless all attempts to bring about a German resurgence or to
|
||
raise the level of the nation's standing are doomed to turn out
|
||
nonsensical and impossible.
|
||
|
||
During my sojourn in Vienna I had ample leisure and opportunity to study
|
||
this problem without allowing any prejudices to intervene; and in my
|
||
daily intercourse with people I was able to establish the correctness of
|
||
the opinion I formed by the test of thousands of instances.
|
||
|
||
In this focus where the greatest varieties of nationality had converged
|
||
it was quite clear and open to everybody to see that the German pacifist
|
||
was always and exclusively the one who tried to consider the interests
|
||
of his own nation objectively; but you could never find a Jew who took a
|
||
similar attitude towards his own race. Furthermore, I found that only
|
||
the German Socialist is 'international' in the sense that he feels
|
||
himself obliged not to demand justice for his own people in any other
|
||
manner than by whining and wailing to his international comrades. Nobody
|
||
could ever reproach Czechs or Poles or other nations with such conduct.
|
||
In short, even at that time, already I recognized that this evil is only
|
||
partly a result of the doctrines taught by Socialism, Pacifism, etc.,
|
||
but mainly the result of our totally inadequate system of education, the
|
||
defects of which are responsible for the lack of devotion to our own
|
||
national ideals.
|
||
|
||
Therefore the first theoretical argument advanced by the Pan-German
|
||
leaders as the basis of their offensive against Catholicism was quite
|
||
entenable.
|
||
|
||
The only way to remedy the evil I have been speaking of is to train the
|
||
Germans from youth upwards to an absolute recognition of the rights of
|
||
their own people, instead of poisoning their minds, while they are still
|
||
only children, with the virus of this curbed 'objectivity', even in
|
||
matters concerning the very maintenance of our own existence. The result
|
||
of this would be that the Catholic in Germany, just as in Ireland,
|
||
Poland or France, will be a German first and foremost. But all this
|
||
presupposes a radical change in the national government.
|
||
|
||
The strongest proof in support of my contention is furnished by what
|
||
took place at that historical juncture when our people were called for
|
||
the last time before the tribunal of History to defend their own
|
||
existence, in a life-or-death struggle.
|
||
|
||
As long as there was no lack of leadership in the higher circles, the
|
||
people fulfilled their duty and obligations to an overwhelming extent.
|
||
Whether Protestant pastor or Catholic priest, each did his very utmost
|
||
in helping our powers of resistance to hold out, not only in the
|
||
trenches but also, and even more so, at home. During those years, and
|
||
especially during the first outburst of enthusiasm, in both religious
|
||
camps there was one undivided and sacred German Empire for whose
|
||
preservation and future existence they all prayed to Heaven.
|
||
|
||
The Pan-German Movement in Austria ought to have asked itself this one
|
||
question: Is the maintenance of the German element in Austria possible
|
||
or not, as long as that element remains within the fold of the Catholic
|
||
Faith? If that question should have been answered in the affirmative,
|
||
then the political Party should not have meddled in religious and
|
||
denominational questions. But if the question had to be answered in the
|
||
negative, then a religious reformation should have been started and not
|
||
a political party movement.
|
||
|
||
Anyone who believes that a religious reformation can be achieved through
|
||
the agency of a political organization shows that he has no idea of the
|
||
development of religious conceptions and doctrines of faith and how
|
||
these are given practical effect by the Church.
|
||
|
||
No man can serve two masters. And I hold that the foundation or
|
||
overthrow of a religion has far greater consequences than the foundation
|
||
or overthrow of a State, to say nothing of a Party.
|
||
|
||
It is no argument to the contrary to say that the attacks were only
|
||
defensive measures against attacks from the other side.
|
||
|
||
Undoubtedly there have always been unscrupulous rogues who did not
|
||
hesitate to degrade religion to the base uses of politics. Nearly always
|
||
such a people had nothing else in their minds except to make a business
|
||
of religions and politics. But on the other hand it would be wrong to
|
||
hold religion itself, or a religious denomination, responsible for a
|
||
number of rascals who exploit the Church for their own base interests
|
||
just as they would exploit anything else in which they had a part.
|
||
|
||
Nothing could be more to the taste of one of these parliamentary
|
||
loungers and tricksters than to be able to find a scapegoat for his
|
||
political sharp-practice--after the event, of course. The moment
|
||
religion or a religious denomination is attacked and made responsible
|
||
for his personal misdeeds this shrewd fellow will raise a row at once
|
||
and call the world to witness how justified he was in acting as he did,
|
||
proclaiming that he and his eloquence alone have saved religion and the
|
||
Church. The public, which is mostly stupid and has a very short memory,
|
||
is not capable of recognizing the real instigator of the quarrel in the
|
||
midst of the turmoil that has been raised. Frequently it does not
|
||
remember the beginning of the fight and so the rogue gets by with his
|
||
stunt.
|
||
|
||
A cunning fellow of that sort is quite well aware that his misdeeds have
|
||
nothing to do with religion. And so he will laugh up his sleeve all the
|
||
more heartily when his honest but artless adversary loses the game and,
|
||
one day losing all faith in humanity, retires from the activities of
|
||
public life.
|
||
|
||
But from another viewpoint also it would be wrong to make religion, or
|
||
the Church as such, responsible for the misdeeds of individuals. If one
|
||
compares the magnitude of the organization, as it stands visible to
|
||
every eye, with the average weakness of human nature we shall have to
|
||
admit that the proportion of good to bad is more favourable here than
|
||
anywhere else. Among the priests there may, of course, be some who use
|
||
their sacred calling to further their political ambitions. There are
|
||
clergy who unfortunately forget that in the political m<>l<EFBFBD>e they ought
|
||
to be the paladins of the more sublime truths and not the abettors of
|
||
falsehood and slander. But for each one of these unworthy specimens we
|
||
can find a thousand or more who fulfil their mission nobly as the
|
||
trustworthy guardians of souls and who tower above the level of our
|
||
corrupt epoch, as little islands above the seaswamp.
|
||
|
||
I cannot condemn the Church as such, and I should feel quite as little
|
||
justified in doing so if some depraved person in the robe of a priest
|
||
commits some offence against the moral law. Nor should I for a moment
|
||
think of blaming the Church if one of its innumerable members betrays
|
||
and besmirches his compatriots, especially not in epochs when such
|
||
conduct is quite common. We must not forget, particularly in our day,
|
||
that for one such Ephialtes (Note 7) there are a thousand whose hearts
|
||
bleed in sympathy with their people during these years of misfortune and
|
||
who, together with the best of our nation, yearn for the hour when fortune
|
||
will smile on us again.
|
||
|
||
[Note 7. Herodotus (Book VII, 213-218) tells the story of how a Greek
|
||
traitor, Ephialtes, helped the Persian invaders at the Battle of
|
||
Thermopylae (480 B.C.) When the Persian King, Xerxes, had begun to
|
||
despair of being able tobreak through the Greek defence, Ephialtes came
|
||
to him and, on being promiseda definite payment, told the King of a
|
||
pathway over the shoulder of the mountainto the Greek end of the Pass.
|
||
The bargain being clinched, Ephialtes led adetachment of the Persian
|
||
troops under General Hydarnes over the mountainpathway. Thus taken in
|
||
the rear, the Greek defenders, under Leonidas, King of Sparta, had to
|
||
fight in two opposite directions within the narrow pass. Terrible
|
||
slaughter ensued and Leonidas fell in the thick of the fighting.
|
||
|
||
The bravery of Leonidas and the treason of Ephialtes impressed Hitler,
|
||
asit does almost every schoolboy. The incident is referred to again in
|
||
MEIN KAMPF (Chap. VIII, Vol. I), where Hitler compares the German troops
|
||
thatfell in France and Flanders to the Greeks at Thermopylae, the
|
||
treachery of Ephialtes being suggested as the prototype of the defeatist
|
||
policy of the German politicians towards the end of the Great War.]
|
||
|
||
If it be objected that here we are concerned not with the petty problems
|
||
of everyday life but principally with fundamental truths and questions
|
||
of dogma, the only way of answering that objection is to ask a question:
|
||
|
||
Do you feel that Providence has called you to proclaim the Truth to the
|
||
world? If so, then go and do it. But you ought to have the courage to do
|
||
it directly and not use some political party as your mouthpiece; for in
|
||
this way you shirk your vocation. In the place of something that now
|
||
exists and is bad put something else that is better and will last into
|
||
the future.
|
||
|
||
If you lack the requisite courage or if you yourself do not know clearly
|
||
what your better substitute ought to be, leave the whole thing alone.
|
||
But, whatever happens, do not try to reach the goal by the roundabout
|
||
way of a political party if you are not brave enough to fight with your
|
||
visor lifted.
|
||
|
||
Political parties have no right to meddle in religious questions except
|
||
when these relate to something that is alien to the national well-being
|
||
and thus calculated to undermine racial customs and morals.
|
||
|
||
If some ecclesiastical dignitaries should misuse religious ceremonies or
|
||
religious teaching to injure their own nation their opponents ought
|
||
never to take the same road and fight them with the same weapons.
|
||
|
||
To a political leader the religious teachings and practices of his
|
||
people should be sacred and inviolable. Otherwise he should not be a
|
||
statesman but a reformer, if he has the necessary qualities for such a
|
||
mission.
|
||
|
||
Any other line of conduct will lead to disaster, especially in Germany.
|
||
|
||
In studying the Pan-German Movement and its conflict with Rome I was
|
||
then firmly persuaded, and especially in the course of later years, that
|
||
by their failure to understand the importance of the social problem the
|
||
Pan-Germanists lost the support of the broad masses, who are the
|
||
indispensable combatants in such a movement. By entering Parliament the
|
||
Pan-German leaders deprived themselves of the great driving force which
|
||
resides in the masses and at the same time they laid on their own
|
||
shoulders all the defects of the parliamentary institution. Their
|
||
struggle against the Church made their position impossible in numerous
|
||
circles of the lower and middle class, while at the same time it robbed
|
||
them of innumerable high-class elements--some of the best indeed that
|
||
the nation possessed. The practical outcome of the Austrian Kulturkampf
|
||
was negative.
|
||
|
||
Although they succeeded in winning 100,000 members away from the Church,
|
||
that did not do much harm to the latter. The Church did not really need
|
||
to shed any tears over these lost sheep, for it lost only those who had
|
||
for a long time ceased to belong to it in their inner hearts. The
|
||
difference between this new reformation and the great Reformation was
|
||
that in the historic epoch of the great Reformation some of the best
|
||
members left the Church because of religious convictions, whereas in
|
||
this new reformation only those left who had been indifferent before and
|
||
who were now influenced by political considerations. From the political
|
||
point of view alone the result was as ridiculous as it was deplorable.
|
||
|
||
Once again a political movement which had promised so much for the
|
||
German nation collapsed, because it was not conducted in a spirit of
|
||
unflinching adherence to naked reality, but lost itself in fields where
|
||
it was bound to get broken up.
|
||
|
||
The Pan-German Movement would never have made this mistake if it had
|
||
properly understood the PSYCHE of the broad masses. If the leaders had
|
||
known that, for psychological reasons alone, it is not expedient to
|
||
place two or more sets of adversaries before the masses--since that
|
||
leads to a complete splitting up of their fighting strength--they would
|
||
have concentrated the full and undivided force of their attack against a
|
||
single adversary. Nothing in the policy of a political party is so
|
||
fraught with danger as to allow its decisions to be directed by people
|
||
who want to have their fingers in every pie though they do not know how
|
||
to cook the simplest dish.
|
||
|
||
But even though there is much that can really be said against the
|
||
various religious denominations, political leaders must not forget that
|
||
the experience of history teaches us that no purely political party in
|
||
similar circumstances ever succeeded in bringing about a religious
|
||
reformation. One does not study history for the purpose of forgetting or
|
||
mistrusting its lessons afterwards, when the time comes to apply these
|
||
lessons in practice. It would be a mistake to believe that in this
|
||
particular case things were different, so that the eternal truths of
|
||
history were no longer applicable. One learns history in order to be
|
||
able to apply its lessons to the present time and whoever fails to do
|
||
this cannot pretend to be a political leader. In reality he is quite a
|
||
superficial person or, as is mostly the case, a conceited simpleton
|
||
whose good intentions cannot make up for his incompetence in practical
|
||
affairs.
|
||
|
||
The art of leadership, as displayed by really great popular leaders in
|
||
all ages, consists in consolidating the attention of the people against
|
||
a single adversary and taking care that nothing will split up that
|
||
attention into sections. The more the militant energies of the people
|
||
are directed towards one objective the more will new recruits join the
|
||
movement, attracted by the magnetism of its unified action, and thus the
|
||
striking power will be all the more enhanced. The leader of genius must
|
||
have the ability to make different opponents appear as if they belonged
|
||
to the one category; for weak and wavering natures among a leader's
|
||
following may easily begin to be dubious about the justice of their own
|
||
cause if they have to face different enemies.
|
||
|
||
As soon as the vacillating masses find themselves facing an opposition
|
||
that is made up of different groups of enemies their sense of
|
||
objectivity will be aroused and they will ask how is it that all the
|
||
others can be in the wrong and they themselves, and their movement,
|
||
alone in the right.
|
||
|
||
Such a feeling would be the first step towards a paralysis of their
|
||
fighting vigour. Where there are various enemies who are split up into
|
||
divergent groups it will be necessary to block them all together as
|
||
forming one solid front, so that the mass of followers in a popular
|
||
movement may see only one common enemy against whom they have to fight.
|
||
Such uniformity intensifies their belief in the justice of their own
|
||
cause and strengthens their feeling of hostility towards the opponent.
|
||
|
||
The Pan-German Movement was unsuccessful because the leaders did not
|
||
grasp the significance of that truth. They saw the goal clearly and
|
||
their intentions were right; but they took the wrong road. Their action
|
||
may be compared to that of an Alpine climber who never loses sight of
|
||
the peak he wants to reach, who has set out with the greatest
|
||
determination and energy, but pays no attention to the road beneath his
|
||
feet. With his eye always fixed firmly on the goal he does not think
|
||
over or notice the nature of the ascent and finally he fails.
|
||
|
||
The manner in which the great rival of the Pan-German Party set out to
|
||
attain its goal was quite different. The way it took was well and
|
||
shrewdly chosen; but it did not have a clear vision of the goal. In
|
||
almost all the questions where the Pan-German Movement failed, the
|
||
policy of the Christian-Socialist Party was correct and systematic.
|
||
|
||
They assessed the importance of the masses correctly, and thus they
|
||
gained the support of large numbers of the popular masses by emphasizing
|
||
the social character of the Movement from the very start. By directing
|
||
their appeal especially to the lower middle class and the artisans, they
|
||
gained adherents who were faithful, persevering and self-sacrificing.
|
||
The Christian-Socialist leaders took care to avoid all controversy with
|
||
the institutions of religion and thus they secured the support of that
|
||
mighty organization, the Catholic Church. Those leaders recognized the
|
||
value of propaganda on a large scale and they were veritable virtuosos
|
||
in working up the spiritual instincts of the broad masses of their
|
||
adherents.
|
||
|
||
The failure of this Party to carry into effect the dream of saving
|
||
Austria from dissolution must be attributed to two main defects in the
|
||
means they employed and also the lack of a clear perception of the ends
|
||
they wished to reach.
|
||
|
||
The anti-Semitism of the Christian-Socialists was based on religious
|
||
instead of racial principles. The reason for this mistake gave rise to
|
||
the second error also.
|
||
|
||
The founders of the Christian-Socialist Party were of the opinion that
|
||
they could not base their position on the racial principle if they
|
||
wished to save Austria, because they felt that a general disintegration
|
||
of the State might quickly result from the adoption of such a policy. In
|
||
the opinion of the Party chiefs the situation in Vienna demanded that
|
||
all factors which tended to estrange the nationalities from one another
|
||
should be carefully avoided and that all factors making for unity should
|
||
be encouraged.
|
||
|
||
At that time Vienna was so honeycombed with foreign elements, especially
|
||
the Czechs, that the greatest amount of tolerance was necessary if these
|
||
elements were to be enlisted in the ranks of any party that was not
|
||
anti-German on principle. If Austria was to be saved those elements were
|
||
indispensable. And so attempts were made to win the support of the small
|
||
traders, a great number of whom were Czechs, by combating the liberalism
|
||
of the Manchester School; and they believed that by adopting this
|
||
attitude they had found a slogan against Jewry which, because of its
|
||
religious implications, would unite all the different nationalities
|
||
which made up the population of the old Austria.
|
||
|
||
It was obvious, however, that this kind of anti-Semitism did not upset
|
||
the Jews very much, simply because it had a purely religious foundation.
|
||
If the worst came to the worst a few drops of baptismal water would
|
||
settle the matter, hereupon the Jew could still carry on his business
|
||
safely and at the same time retain his Jewish nationality.
|
||
|
||
On such superficial grounds it was impossible to deal with the whole
|
||
problem in an earnest and rational way. The consequence was that many
|
||
people could not understand this kind of anti-Semitism and therefore
|
||
refused to take part in it.
|
||
|
||
The attractive force of the idea was thus restricted exclusively to
|
||
narrow-minded circles, because the leaders failed to go beyond the mere
|
||
emotional appeal and did not ground their position on a truly rational
|
||
basis. The intellectuals were opposed to such a policy on principle. It
|
||
looked more and more as if the whole movement was a new attempt to
|
||
proselytize the Jews, or, on the other hand, as if it were merely
|
||
organized from the wish to compete with other contemporary movements.
|
||
Thus the struggle lost all traces of having been organized for a
|
||
spiritual and sublime mission. Indeed, it seemed to some people--and
|
||
these were by no means worthless elements--to be immoral and
|
||
reprehensible. The movement failed to awaken a belief that here there
|
||
was a problem of vital importance for the whole of humanity and on the
|
||
solution of which the destiny of the whole Gentile world depended.
|
||
|
||
Through this shilly-shally way of dealing with the problem the
|
||
anti-Semitism of the Christian-Socialists turned out to be quite
|
||
ineffective.
|
||
|
||
It was anti-Semitic only in outward appearance. And this was worse than
|
||
if it had made no pretences at all to anti-Semitism; for the pretence
|
||
gave rise to a false sense of security among people who believed that
|
||
the enemy had been taken by the ears; but, as a matter of fact, the
|
||
people themselves were being led by the nose.
|
||
|
||
The Jew readily adjusted himself to this form of anti-Semitism and found
|
||
its continuance more profitable to him than its abolition would be.
|
||
|
||
This whole movement led to great sacrifices being made for the sake of
|
||
that State which was composed of many heterogeneous nationalities; but
|
||
much greater sacrifices had to be made by the trustees of the German
|
||
element.
|
||
|
||
One did not dare to be 'nationalist', even in Vienna, lest the ground
|
||
should fall away from under one's feet. It was hoped that the Habsburg
|
||
State might be saved by a silent evasion of the nationalist question;
|
||
but this policy led that State to ruin. The same policy also led to the
|
||
collapse of Christian Socialism, for thus the Movement was deprived of
|
||
the only source of energy from which a political party can draw the
|
||
necessary driving force.
|
||
|
||
During those years I carefully followed the two movements and observed
|
||
how they developed, one because my heart was with it and the other
|
||
because of my admiration for that remarkable man who then appeared to me
|
||
as a bitter symbol of the whole German population in Austria.
|
||
|
||
When the imposing funeral CORT<52>GE of the dead Burgomaster wound its way
|
||
from the City Hall towards the Ring Strasse I stood among the hundreds
|
||
of thousands who watched the solemn procession pass by. As I stood there
|
||
I felt deeply moved, and my instinct clearly told me that the work of
|
||
this man was all in vain, because a sinister Fate was inexorably leading
|
||
this State to its downfall. If Dr. Karl Lueger had lived in Germany he
|
||
would have been ranked among the great leaders of our people. It was a
|
||
misfortune for his work and for himseif that he had to live in this
|
||
impossible State.
|
||
|
||
When he died the fire had already been enkindled in the Balkans and was
|
||
spreading month by month. Fate had been merciful in sparing him the
|
||
sight of what, even to the last, he had hoped to prevent.
|
||
|
||
I endeavoured to analyse the cause which rendered one of those movements
|
||
futile and wrecked the progress of the other. The result of this
|
||
investigation was the profound conviction that, apart from the inherent
|
||
impossibility of consolidating the position of the State in the old
|
||
Austria, the two parties made the following fatal mistake:
|
||
|
||
The Pan-German Party was perfectly right in its fundamental ideas
|
||
regarding the aim of the Movement, which was to bring about a German
|
||
restoration, but it was unfortunate in its choice of means. It was
|
||
nationalist, but unfortunately it paid too little heed to the social
|
||
problem, and thus it failed to gain the support of the masses. Its
|
||
anti-Jewish policy, however, was grounded on a correct perception of the
|
||
significance of the racial problem and not on religious principles. But
|
||
it was mistaken in its assessment of facts and adopted the wrong tactics
|
||
when it made war against one of the religious denominations.
|
||
|
||
The Christian-Socialist Movement had only a vague concept of a German
|
||
revival as part of its object, but it was intelligent and fortunate in
|
||
the choice of means to carry out its policy as a Party. The
|
||
Christian-Socialists grasped the significance of the social question;
|
||
but they adopted the wrong principles in their struggle against Jewry,
|
||
and they utterly failed to appreciate the value of the national idea as
|
||
a source of political energy.
|
||
|
||
If the Christian-Socialist Party, together with its shrewd judgment in
|
||
regard to the worth of the popular masses, had only judged rightly also
|
||
on the importance of the racial problem--which was properly grasped by
|
||
the Pan-German Movement--and if this party had been really nationalist;
|
||
or if the Pan-German leaders, on the other hand, in addition to their
|
||
correct judgment of the Jewish problem and of the national idea, had
|
||
adopted the practical wisdom of the Christian-Socialist Party, and
|
||
particularly their attitude towards Socialism--then a movement would
|
||
have developed which, in my opinion, might at that time have
|
||
successfully altered the course of German destiny.
|
||
|
||
If things did not turn out thus, the fault lay for the most part in the
|
||
inherent nature of the Austrian State.
|
||
|
||
I did not find my own convictions upheld by any party then in existence,
|
||
and so I could not bring myself to enlist as a member in any of the
|
||
existing organizations or even lend a hand in their struggle. Even at
|
||
that time all those organizations seemed to me to be already jaded in
|
||
their energies and were therefore incapable of bringing about a national
|
||
revival of the German people in a really profound way, not merely
|
||
outwardly.
|
||
|
||
My inner aversion to the Habsburg State was increasing daily.
|
||
|
||
The more I paid special attention to questions of foreign policy, the
|
||
more the conviction grew upon me that this phantom State would surely
|
||
bring misfortune on the Germans. I realized more and more that the
|
||
destiny of the German nation could not be decisively influenced from
|
||
here but only in the German Empire itself. And this was true not only in
|
||
regard to general political questions but also--and in no less a
|
||
degree--in regard to the whole sphere of cultural life.
|
||
|
||
Here, also, in all matters affecting the national culture and art, the
|
||
Austrian State showed all the signs of senile decrepitude, or at least
|
||
it was ceasing to be of any consequence to the German nation, as far as
|
||
these matters were concerned. This was especially true of its
|
||
architecture. Modern architecture could not produce any great results in
|
||
Austria because, since the building of the Ring Strasse--at least in
|
||
Vienna--architectural activities had become insignificant when compared
|
||
with the progressive plans which were being thought out in Germany.
|
||
|
||
And so I came more and more to lead what may be called a twofold
|
||
existence. Reason and reality forced me to continue my harsh
|
||
apprenticeship in Austria, though I must now say that this
|
||
apprenticeship turned out fortunate in the end. But my heart was
|
||
elsewhere.
|
||
|
||
A feeling of discontent grew upon me and made me depressed the more I
|
||
came to realize the inside hollowness of this State and the
|
||
impossibility of saving it from collapse. At the same time I felt
|
||
perfectly certain that it would bring all kinds of misfortune to the
|
||
German people.
|
||
|
||
I was convinced that the Habsburg State would balk and hinder every
|
||
German who might show signs of real greatness, while at the same time it
|
||
would aid and abet every non-German activity.
|
||
|
||
This conglomerate spectacle of heterogeneous races which the capital of
|
||
the Dual Monarchy presented, this motley of Czechs, Poles, Hungarians,
|
||
Ruthenians, Serbs and Croats, etc., and always that bacillus which is
|
||
the solvent of human society, the Jew, here and there and
|
||
everywhere--the whole spectacle was repugnant to me. The gigantic city
|
||
seemed to be the incarnation of mongrel depravity.
|
||
|
||
The German language, which I had spoken from the time of my boyhood, was
|
||
the vernacular idiom of Lower Bavaria. I never forgot that particular
|
||
style of speech, and I could never learn the Viennese dialect. The
|
||
longer I lived in that city the stronger became my hatred for the
|
||
promiscuous swarm of foreign peoples which had begun to batten on that
|
||
old nursery ground of German culture. The idea that this State could
|
||
maintain its further existence for any considerable time was quite
|
||
absurd.
|
||
|
||
Austria was then like a piece of ancient mosaic in which the cohesive
|
||
cement had dried up and become old and friable. As long as such a work
|
||
of art remains untouched it may hold together and continue to exist; but
|
||
the moment some blow is struck on it then it breaks up into thousands of
|
||
fragments. Therefore it was now only a question of when the blow would
|
||
come.
|
||
|
||
Because my heart was always with the German Empire and not with the
|
||
Austrian Monarchy, the hour of Austria's dissolution as a State appeared
|
||
to me only as the first step towards the emancipation of the German
|
||
nation.
|
||
|
||
All these considerations intensified my yearning to depart for that
|
||
country for which my heart had been secretly longing since the days of
|
||
my youth.
|
||
|
||
I hoped that one day I might be able to make my mark as an architect and
|
||
that I could devote my talents to the service of my country on a large
|
||
or small scale, according to the will of Fate.
|
||
|
||
A final reason was that I longed to be among those who lived and worked
|
||
in that land from which the movement should be launched, the object of
|
||
which would be the fulfilment of what my heart had always longed for,
|
||
namely, the union of the country in which I was born with our common
|
||
fatherland, the German Empire.
|
||
|
||
There are many who may not understand how such a yearning can be so
|
||
strong; but I appeal especially to two groups of people. The first
|
||
includes all those who are still denied the happiness I have spoken of,
|
||
and the second embraces those who once enjoyed that happiness but had it
|
||
torn from them by a harsh fate. I turn to all those who have been torn
|
||
from their motherland and who have to struggle for the preservation of
|
||
their most sacred patrimony, their native language, persecuted and
|
||
harried because of their loyalty and love for the homeland, yearning
|
||
sadly for the hour when they will be allowed to return to the bosom of
|
||
their father's household. To these I address my words, and I know that
|
||
they will understand.
|
||
|
||
Only he who has experienced in his own inner life what it means to be
|
||
German and yet to be denied the right of belonging to his fatherland can
|
||
appreciate the profound nostalgia which that enforced exile causes. It
|
||
is a perpetual heartache, and there is no place for joy and contentment
|
||
until the doors of paternal home are thrown open and all those through
|
||
whose veins kindred blood is flowing will find peace and rest in their
|
||
common REICH.
|
||
|
||
Vienna was a hard school for me; but it taught me the most profound
|
||
lessons of my life. I was scarcely more than a boy when I came to live
|
||
there, and when I left it I had grown to be a man of a grave and pensive
|
||
nature. In Vienna I acquired the foundations of a WELTANSCHAUUNG in
|
||
general and developed a faculty for analysing political questions in
|
||
particular. That WELTANSCHAUUNG and the political ideas then formed
|
||
have never been abandoned, though they were expanded later on in some
|
||
directions. It is only now that I can fully appreciate how valuable
|
||
those years of apprenticeship were for me.
|
||
|
||
That is why I have given a detailed account of this period. There, in
|
||
Vienna, stark reality taught me the truths that now form the fundamental
|
||
principles of the Party which within the course of five years has grown
|
||
from modest beginnings to a great mass movement. I do not know what my
|
||
attitude towards Jewry, Social-Democracy, or rather Marxism in general,
|
||
to the social problem, etc., would be to-day if I had not acquired a
|
||
stock of personal beliefs at such an early age, by dint of hard study
|
||
and under the duress of Fate.
|
||
|
||
For, although the misfortunes of the Fatherland may have stimulated
|
||
thousands and thousands to ponder over the inner causes of the collapse,
|
||
that could not lead to such a thorough knowledge and deep insight as a
|
||
man may develop who has fought a hard struggle for many years so that he
|
||
might be master of his own fate.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
CHAPTER IV
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
MUNICH
|
||
|
||
|
||
At last I came to Munich, in the spring of 1912.
|
||
|
||
The city itself was as familiar to me as if I had lived for years within
|
||
its walls.
|
||
|
||
This was because my studies in architecture had been constantly turning
|
||
my attention to the metropolis of German art. One must know Munich if
|
||
one would know Germany, and it is impossible to acquire a knowledge of
|
||
German art without seeing Munich.
|
||
|
||
All things considered, this pre-war sojourn was by far the happiest and
|
||
most contented time of my life. My earnings were very slender; but after
|
||
all I did not live for the sake of painting. I painted in order to get
|
||
the bare necessities of existence while I continued my studies. I was
|
||
firmly convinced that I should finally succeed in reaching the goal I
|
||
had marked out for myself. And this conviction alone was strong enough
|
||
to enable me to bear the petty hardships of everyday life without
|
||
worrying very much about them.
|
||
|
||
Moreover, almost from the very first moment of my sojourn there I came
|
||
to love that city more than any other place known to me. A German city!
|
||
I said to myself. How different to Vienna. It was with a feeling of
|
||
disgust that my imagination reverted to that Babylon of races. Another
|
||
pleasant feature here was the way the people spoke German, which was
|
||
much nearer my own way of speaking than the Viennese idiom. The Munich
|
||
idiom recalled the days of my youth, especially when I spoke with those
|
||
who had come to Munich from Lower Bavaria. There were a thousand or more
|
||
things which I inwardly loved or which I came to love during the course
|
||
of my stay. But what attracted me most was the marvellous wedlock of
|
||
native folk-energy with the fine artistic spirit of the city, that
|
||
unique harmony from the Hofbr<62>uhaus to the Odeon, from the October
|
||
Festival to the PINAKOTHEK, etc. The reason why my heart's strings are
|
||
entwined around this city as around no other spot in this world is
|
||
probably because Munich is and will remain inseparably connected with
|
||
the development of my own career; and the fact that from the beginning
|
||
of my visit I felt inwardly happy and contented is to be attributed to
|
||
the charm of the marvellous Wittelsbach Capital, which has attracted
|
||
probably everybody who is blessed with a feeling for beauty instead of
|
||
commercial instincts.
|
||
|
||
Apart from my professional work, I was most interested in the study of
|
||
current political events, particularly those which were connected with
|
||
foreign relations. I approached these by way of the German policy of
|
||
alliances which, ever since my Austrian days, I had considered to be an
|
||
utterly mistaken one. But in Vienna I had not yet seen quite clearly how
|
||
far the German Empire had gone in the process of' self-delusion. In
|
||
Vienna I was inclined to assume, or probably I persuaded myself to do so
|
||
in order to excuse the German mistake, that possibly the authorities in
|
||
Berlin knew how weak and unreliable their ally would prove to be when
|
||
brought face to face with realities, but that, for more or less
|
||
mysterious reasons, they refrained from allowing their opinions on this
|
||
point to be known in public. Their idea was that they should support the
|
||
policy of alliances which Bismarck had initiated and the sudden
|
||
discontinuance of which might be undesirable, if for no other reason
|
||
than that it might arouse those foreign countries which were lying in
|
||
wait for their chance or might alarm the Philistines at home.
|
||
|
||
But my contact with the people soon taught me, to my horror, that my
|
||
assumptions were wrong. I was amazed to find everywhere, even in circles
|
||
otherwise well informed, that nobody had the slightest intimation of the
|
||
real character of the Habsburg Monarchy. Among the common people in
|
||
particular there was a prevalent illusion that the Austrian ally was a
|
||
Power which would have to be seriously reckoned with and would rally its
|
||
man-power in the hour of need. The mass of the people continued to look
|
||
upon the Dual Monarchy as a 'German State' and believed that it could be
|
||
relied upon. They assumed that its strength could be measured by the
|
||
millions of its subjects, as was the case in Germany. First of all, they
|
||
did not realize that Austria had ceased to be a German State and,
|
||
secondly, that the conditions prevailing within the Austrian Empire were
|
||
steadily pushing it headlong to the brink of disaster.
|
||
|
||
At that time I knew the condition of affairs in the Austrian State
|
||
better than the professional diplomats. Blindfolded, as nearly always,
|
||
these diplomats stumbled along on their way to disaster. The opinions
|
||
prevailing among the bulk of the people reflected only what had been
|
||
drummed into them from official quarters above. And these higher
|
||
authorities grovelled before the 'Ally', as the people of old bowed down
|
||
before the Golden Calf. They probably thought that by being polite and
|
||
amiable they might balance the lack of honesty on the other side. Thus
|
||
they took every declaration at its full face value.
|
||
|
||
Even while in Vienna I used to be annoyed again and again by the
|
||
discrepancy between the speeches of the official statesmen and the
|
||
contents of the Viennese Press. And yet Vienna was still a German city,
|
||
at least as far as appearances went. But one encountered an utterly
|
||
different state of things on leaving Vienna, or rather German-Austria,
|
||
and coming into the Slav provinces. It needed only a glance at the
|
||
Prague newspapers in order to see how the whole exalted hocus-pocus of
|
||
the Triple Alliance was judged from there. In Prague there was nothing
|
||
but gibes and sneers for that masterpiece of statesmanship. Even in the
|
||
piping times of peace, when the two emperors kissed each other on the
|
||
brow in token of friendship, those papers did not cloak their belief
|
||
that the alliance would be liquidated the moment a first attempt was
|
||
made to bring it down from the shimmering glory of a Nibelungen ideal to
|
||
the plane of practical affairs.
|
||
|
||
Great indignation was aroused a few years later, when the alliances were
|
||
put to the first practical test. Italy not only withdrew from the Triple
|
||
Alliance, leaving the other two members to march by themselves. but she
|
||
even joined their enemies. That anybody should believe even for a moment
|
||
in the possibility of such a miracle as that of Italy fighting on the
|
||
same side as Austria would be simply incredible to anyone who did not
|
||
suffer from the blindness of official diplomacy. And that was just how
|
||
people felt in Austria also.
|
||
|
||
In Austria only the Habsburgs and the German-Austrians supported the
|
||
alliance. The Habsburgs did so from shrewd calculation of their own
|
||
interests and from necessity. The Germans did it out of good faith and
|
||
political ignorance. They acted in good faith inasmuch as they believed
|
||
that by establishing the Triple Alliance they were doing a great service
|
||
to the German Empire and were thus helping to strengthen it and
|
||
consolidate its defence. They showed their political ignorance, however,
|
||
in holding such ideas, because, instead of helping the German Empire
|
||
they really chained it to a moribund State which might bring its
|
||
associate into the grave with itself; and, above all, by championing
|
||
this alliance they fell more and more a prey to the Habsburg policy of
|
||
de-Germanization. For the alliance gave the Habsburgs good grounds for
|
||
believing that the German Empire would not interfere in their domestic
|
||
affairs and thus they were in a position to carry into effect, with more
|
||
ease and less risk, their domestic policy of gradually eliminating the
|
||
German element. Not only could the 'objectiveness' of the German
|
||
Government be counted upon, and thus there need be no fear of protest
|
||
from that quarter, but one could always remind the German-Austrians of
|
||
the alliance and thus silence them in case they should ever object to
|
||
the reprehensible means that were being employed to establish a Slav
|
||
hegemony in the Dual Monarchy.
|
||
|
||
What could the German-Austrians do, when the people of the German Empire
|
||
itself had openly proclaimed their trust and confidence in the Habsburg
|
||
r<EFBFBD>gime?
|
||
|
||
Should they resist, and thus be branded openly before their kinsfolk in
|
||
the REICH as traitors to their own national interests? They, who for so
|
||
many decades had sacrificed so much for the sake of their German
|
||
tradition!
|
||
|
||
Once the influence of the Germans in Austria had been wiped out, what
|
||
then would be the value of the alliance? If the Triple Alliance were to
|
||
be advantageous to Germany, was it not a necessary condition that the
|
||
predominance of the German element in Austria should be maintained? Or
|
||
did anyone really believe that Germany could continue to be the ally of
|
||
a Habsburg Empire under the hegemony of the Slavs?
|
||
|
||
The official attitude of German diplomacy, as well as that of the
|
||
general public towards internal problems affecting the Austrian
|
||
nationalities was not merely stupid, it was insane. On the alliance, as
|
||
on a solid foundation, they grounded the security and future existence
|
||
of a nation of seventy millions, while at the same time they allowed
|
||
their partner to continue his policy of undermining the sole foundation
|
||
of that alliance methodically and resolutely, from year to year. A day
|
||
must come when nothing but a formal contract with Viennese diplomats
|
||
would be left. The alliance itself, as an effective support, would be
|
||
lost to Germany.
|
||
|
||
As far as concerned Italy, such had been the case from the outset.
|
||
|
||
If people in Germany had studied history and the psychology of nations a
|
||
little more carefully not one of them could have believed for a single
|
||
hour that the Quirinal and the Viennese Hofburg could ever stand
|
||
shoulder to shoulder on a common battle front. Italy would have exploded
|
||
like a volcano if any Italian government had dared to send a single
|
||
Italian soldier to fight for the Habsburg State. So fanatically hated
|
||
was this State that the Italians could stand in no other relation to it
|
||
on a battle front except as enemies. More than once in Vienna I have
|
||
witnessed explosions of the contempt and profound hatred which 'allied'
|
||
the Italian to the Austrian State. The crimes which the House of
|
||
Habsburg committed against Italian freedom and independence during
|
||
several centuries were too grave to be forgiven, even with the best of
|
||
goodwill. But this goodwill did not exist, either among the rank and
|
||
file of the population or in the government. Therefore for Italy there
|
||
were only two ways of co-existing with Austria--alliance or war. By
|
||
choosing the first it was possible to prepare leisurely for the second.
|
||
|
||
Especially since relations between Russia and Austria tended more and
|
||
more towards the arbitrament of war, the German policy of alliances was
|
||
as senseless as it was dangerous. Here was a classical instance which
|
||
demonstrated the lack of any broad or logical lines of thought.
|
||
|
||
But what was the reason for forming the alliance at all? It could not
|
||
have been other than the wish to secure the future of the REICH better
|
||
than if it were to depend exclusively on its own resources. But the
|
||
future of the REICH could not have meant anything else than the problem
|
||
of securing the means of existence for the German people.
|
||
|
||
The only questions therefore were the following: What form shall the
|
||
life of the nation assume in the near future--that is to say within such
|
||
a period as we can forecast? And by what means can the necessary
|
||
foundation and security be guaranteed for this development within the
|
||
framework of the general distribution of power among the European
|
||
nations? A clear analysis of the principles on which the foreign policy
|
||
of German statecraft were to be based should have led to the following
|
||
conclusions:
|
||
|
||
The annual increase of population in Germany amounts to almost 900,000
|
||
souls. The difficulties of providing for this army of new citizens must
|
||
grow from year to year and must finally lead to a catastrophe, unless
|
||
ways and means are found which will forestall the danger of misery and
|
||
hunger. There were four ways of providing against this terrible
|
||
calamity:
|
||
|
||
(1) It was possible to adopt the French example and artificially
|
||
restrict the number of births, thus avoiding an excess of population.
|
||
|
||
Under certain circumstances, in periods of distress or under bad
|
||
climatic condition, or if the soil yields too poor a return, Nature
|
||
herself tends to check the increase of population in some countries and
|
||
among some races, but by a method which is quite as ruthless as it is
|
||
wise. It does not impede the procreative faculty as such; but it does
|
||
impede the further existence of the offspring by submitting it to such
|
||
tests and privations that everything which is less strong or less
|
||
healthy is forced to retreat into the bosom of tile unknown. Whatever
|
||
survives these hardships of existence has been tested and tried a
|
||
thousandfold, hardened and renders fit to continue the process of
|
||
procreation; so that the same thorough selection will begin all over
|
||
again. By thus dealing brutally with the individual and recalling him
|
||
the very moment he shows that he is not fitted for the trials of life,
|
||
Nature preserves the strength of the race and the species and raises it
|
||
to the highest degree of efficiency.
|
||
|
||
The decrease in numbers therefore implies an increase of strength, as
|
||
far as the individual is concerned, and this finally means the
|
||
invigoration of the species.
|
||
|
||
But the case is different when man himself starts the process of
|
||
numerical restriction. Man is not carved from Nature's wood. He is made
|
||
of 'human' material. He knows more than the ruthless Queen of Wisdom. He
|
||
does not impede the preservation of the individual but prevents
|
||
procreation itself. To the individual, who always sees only himself and
|
||
not the race, this line of action seems more humane and just than the
|
||
opposite way. But, unfortunately, the consequences are also the
|
||
opposite.
|
||
|
||
By leaving the process of procreation unchecked and by submitting the
|
||
individual to the hardest preparatory tests in life, Nature selects the
|
||
best from an abundance of single elements and stamps them as fit to live
|
||
and carry on the conservation of the species. But man restricts the
|
||
procreative faculty and strives obstinately to keep alive at any cost
|
||
whatever has once been born. This correction of the Divine Will seems to
|
||
him to be wise and humane, and he rejoices at having trumped Nature's
|
||
card in one game at least and thus proved that she is not entirely
|
||
reliable. The dear little ape of an all-mighty father is delighted to
|
||
see and hear that he has succeeded in effecting a numerical restriction;
|
||
but he would be very displeased if told that this, his system, brings
|
||
about a degeneration in personal quality.
|
||
|
||
For as soon as the procreative faculty is thwarted and the number of
|
||
births diminished, the natural struggle for existence which allows only
|
||
healthy and strong individuals to survive is replaced by a sheer craze
|
||
to 'save' feeble and even diseased creatures at any cost. And thus the
|
||
seeds are sown for a human progeny which will become more and more
|
||
miserable from one generation to another, as long as Nature's will is
|
||
scorned.
|
||
|
||
But if that policy be carried out the final results must be that such a
|
||
nation will eventually terminate its own existence on this earth; for
|
||
though man may defy the eternal laws of procreation during a certain
|
||
period, vengeance will follow sooner or later. A stronger race will oust
|
||
that which has grown weak; for the vital urge, in its ultimate form,
|
||
will burst asunder all the absurd chains of this so-called humane
|
||
consideration for the individual and will replace it with the humanity
|
||
of Nature, which wipes out what is weak in order to give place to the
|
||
strong.
|
||
|
||
Any policy which aims at securing the existence of a nation by
|
||
restricting the birth-rate robs that nation of its future.
|
||
|
||
(2) A second solution is that of internal colonization. This is a
|
||
proposal which is frequently made in our own time and one hears it
|
||
lauded a good deal. It is a suggestion that is well-meant but it is
|
||
misunderstood by most people, so that it is the source of more mischief
|
||
than can be imagined.
|
||
|
||
It is certainly true that the productivity of the soil can be increased
|
||
within certain limits; but only within defined limits and not
|
||
indefinitely. By increasing the productive powers of the soil it will be
|
||
possible to balance the effect of a surplus birth-rate in Germany for a
|
||
certain period of time, without running any danger of hunger. But we
|
||
have to face the fact that the general standard of living is rising more
|
||
quickly than even the birth rate. The requirements of food and clothing
|
||
are becoming greater from year to year and are out of proportion to
|
||
those of our ancestors of, let us say, a hundred years ago. It would,
|
||
therefore, be a mistaken view that every increase in the productive
|
||
powers of the soil will supply the requisite conditions for an increase
|
||
in the population. No. That is true up to a certain point only, for at
|
||
least a portion of the increased produce of the soil will be consumed by
|
||
the margin of increased demands caused by the steady rise in the
|
||
standard of living. But even if these demands were to be curtailed to
|
||
the narrowest limits possible and if at the same time we were to use all
|
||
our available energies in the intenser cultivation, we should here reach
|
||
a definite limit which is conditioned by the inherent nature of the soil
|
||
itself. No matter how industriously we may labour we cannot increase
|
||
agricultural production beyond this limit. Therefore, though we may
|
||
postpone the evil hour of distress for a certain time, it will arrive at
|
||
last. The first phenomenon will be the recurrence of famine periods from
|
||
time to time, after bad harvests, etc. The intervals between these
|
||
famines will become shorter and shorter the more the population
|
||
increases; and, finally, the famine times will disappear only in those
|
||
rare years of plenty when the granaries are full. And a time will
|
||
ultimately come when even in those years of plenty there will not be
|
||
enough to go round; so that hunger will dog the footsteps of the nation.
|
||
Nature must now step in once more and select those who are to survive,
|
||
or else man will help himself by artificially preventing his own
|
||
increase, with all the fatal consequences for the race and the species
|
||
which have been already mentioned.
|
||
|
||
It may be objected here that, in one form or another, this future is in
|
||
store for all mankind and that the individual nation or race cannot
|
||
escape the general fate.
|
||
|
||
At first glance, that objection seems logical enough; but we have to
|
||
take the following into account:
|
||
|
||
The day will certainly come when the whole of mankind will be forced to
|
||
check the augmentation of the human species, because there will be no
|
||
further possibility of adjusting the productivity of the soil to the
|
||
perpetual increase in the population. Nature must then be allowed to use
|
||
her own methods or man may possibly take the task of regulation into his
|
||
own hands and establish the necessary equilibrium by the application of
|
||
better means than we have at our disposal to-day. But then it will be a
|
||
problem for mankind as a whole, whereas now only those races have to
|
||
suffer from want which no longer have the strength and daring to acquire
|
||
sufficient soil to fulfil their needs. For, as things stand to-day, vast
|
||
spaces still lie uncultivated all over the surface of the globe. Those
|
||
spaces are only waiting for the ploughshare. And it is quite certain
|
||
that Nature did not set those territories apart as the exclusive
|
||
pastures of any one nation or race to be held unutilized in reserve for
|
||
the future. Such land awaits the people who have the strength to acquire
|
||
it and the diligence to cultivate it.
|
||
|
||
Nature knows no political frontiers. She begins by establishing life on
|
||
this globe and then watches the free play of forces. Those who show the
|
||
greatest courage and industry are the children nearest to her heart and
|
||
they will be granted the sovereign right of existence.
|
||
|
||
If a nation confines itself to 'internal colonization' while other races
|
||
are perpetually increasing their territorial annexations all over the
|
||
globe, that nation will be forced to restrict the numerical growth of
|
||
its population at a time when the other nations are increasing theirs.
|
||
This situation must eventually arrive. It will arrive soon if the
|
||
territory which the nation has at its disposal be small. Now it is
|
||
unfortunately true that only too often the best nations--or, to speak
|
||
more exactly, the only really cultured nations, who at the same time are
|
||
the chief bearers of human progress--have decided, in their blind
|
||
pacifism, to refrain from the acquisition of new territory and to be
|
||
content with 'internal colonization.' But at the same time nations of
|
||
inferior quality succeed in getting hold of large spaces for
|
||
colonization all over the globe. The state of affairs which must result
|
||
from this contrast is the following:
|
||
|
||
Races which are culturally superior but less ruthless would be forced to
|
||
restrict their increase, because of insufficient territory to support
|
||
the population, while less civilized races could increase indefinitely,
|
||
owing to the vast territories at their disposal. In other words: should
|
||
that state of affairs continue, then the world will one day be possessed
|
||
by that portion of mankind which is culturally inferior but more active
|
||
and energetic.
|
||
|
||
A time will come, even though in the distant future, when there can be
|
||
only two alternatives: Either the world will be ruled according to our
|
||
modern concept of democracy, and then every decision will be in favour
|
||
of the numerically stronger races; or the world will be governed by the
|
||
law of natural distribution of power, and then those nations will be
|
||
victorious who are of more brutal will and are not the nations who have
|
||
practised self-denial.
|
||
|
||
Nobody can doubt that this world will one day be the scene of dreadful
|
||
struggles for existence on the part of mankind. In the end the instinct
|
||
of self-preservation alone will triumph. Before its consuming fire this
|
||
so-called humanitarianism, which connotes only a mixture of fatuous
|
||
timidity and self-conceit, will melt away as under the March sunshine.
|
||
Man has become great through perpetual struggle. In perpetual peace his
|
||
greatness must decline.
|
||
|
||
For us Germans, the slogan of 'internal colonization' is fatal, because
|
||
it encourages the belief that we have discovered a means which is in
|
||
accordance with our innate pacifism and which will enable us to work for
|
||
our livelihood in a half slumbering existence. Such a teaching, once it
|
||
were taken seriously by our people, would mean the end of all effort to
|
||
acquire for ourselves that place in the world which we deserve. If. the
|
||
average German were once convinced that by this measure he has the
|
||
chance of ensuring his livelihood and guaranteeing his future, any
|
||
attempt to take an active and profitable part in sustaining the vital
|
||
demands of his country would be out of the question. Should the nation
|
||
agree to such an attitude then any really useful foreign policy might be
|
||
looked upon as dead and buried, together with all hope for the future of
|
||
the German people.
|
||
|
||
Once we know what the consequences of this 'internal colonization'
|
||
theory would be we can no longer consider as a mere accident the fact
|
||
that among those who inculcate this quite pernicious mentality among our
|
||
people the Jew is always in the first line. He knows his softies only
|
||
too well not to know that they are ready to be the grateful victims of
|
||
every swindle which promises them a gold-block in the shape of a
|
||
discovery that will enable them to outwit Nature and thus render
|
||
superfluous the hard and inexorable struggle for existence; so that
|
||
finally they may become lords of the planet partly by sheer DOLCE FAR
|
||
NIENTE and partly by working when a pleasing opportunity arises.
|
||
|
||
It cannot be too strongly emphasised that any German 'internal
|
||
colonization' must first of all be considered as suited only for the
|
||
relief of social grievances. To carry out a system of internal
|
||
colonization, the most important preliminary measure would be to free
|
||
the soil from the grip of the speculator and assure that freedom. But
|
||
such a system could never suffice to assure the future of the nation
|
||
without the acquisition of new territory.
|
||
|
||
If we adopt a different plan we shall soon reach a point beyond which
|
||
the resources of our soil can no longer be exploited, and at the same
|
||
time we shall reach a point beyond which our man-power cannot develop.
|
||
|
||
In conclusion, the following must be said:
|
||
|
||
The fact that only up to a limited extent can internal colonization be
|
||
practised in a national territory which is of definitely small area and
|
||
the restriction of the procreative faculty which follows as a result of
|
||
such conditions--these two factors have a very unfavourable effect on
|
||
the military and political standing of a nation.
|
||
|
||
The extent of the national territory is a determining factor in the
|
||
external security of the nation. The larger the territory which a people
|
||
has at its disposal the stronger are the national defences of that
|
||
people. Military decisions are more quickly, more easily, more
|
||
completely and more effectively gained against a people occupying a
|
||
national territory which is restricted in area, than against States
|
||
which have extensive territories. Moreover, the magnitude of a national
|
||
territory is in itself a certain assurance that an outside Power will
|
||
not hastily risk the adventure of an invasion; for in that case the
|
||
struggle would have to be long and exhausting before victory could be
|
||
hoped for. The risk being so great. there would have to be extraordinary
|
||
reasons for such an aggressive adventure. Hence it is that the
|
||
territorial magnitude of a State furnishes a basis whereon national
|
||
liberty and independence can be maintained with relative ease; while, on
|
||
the contrary, a State whose territory is small offers a natural
|
||
temptation to the invader.
|
||
|
||
As a matter of fact, so-called national circles in the German REICH
|
||
rejected those first two possibilities of establishing a balance between
|
||
the constant numerical increase in the population and a national
|
||
territory which could not expand proportionately. But the reasons given
|
||
for that rejection were different from those which I have just
|
||
expounded. It was mainly on the basis of certain moral sentiments that
|
||
restriction of the birth-rate was objected to. Proposals for internal
|
||
colonization were rejected indignantly because it was suspected that
|
||
such a policy might mean an attack on the big landowners, and that this
|
||
attack might be the forerunner of a general assault against the
|
||
principle of private property as a whole. The form in which the latter
|
||
solution--internal colonization--was recommended justified the
|
||
misgivings of the big landowners.
|
||
|
||
But the form in which the colonization proposal was rejected was not
|
||
very clever, as regards the impression which such rejection might be
|
||
calculated to make on the mass of the people, and anyhow it did not go
|
||
to the root of the problem at all.
|
||
|
||
Only two further ways were left open in which work and bread could be
|
||
secured for the increasing population.
|
||
|
||
(3) It was possible to think of acquiring new territory on which a
|
||
certain portion of' the increasing population could be settled each
|
||
year; or else
|
||
|
||
(4) Our industry and commerce had to be organized in such a manner as to
|
||
secure an increase in the exports and thus be able to support our people
|
||
by the increased purchasing power accruing from the profits made on
|
||
foreign markets.
|
||
|
||
Therefore the problem was: A policy of territorial expansion or a
|
||
colonial and commercial policy. Both policies were taken into
|
||
consideration, examined, recommended and rejected, from various
|
||
standpoints, with the result that the second alternative was finally
|
||
adopted. The sounder alternative, however, was undoubtedly the first.
|
||
|
||
The principle of acquiring new territory, on which the surplus
|
||
population could be settled, has many advantages to recommend it,
|
||
especially if we take the future as well as the present into account.
|
||
|
||
In the first place, too much importance cannot be placed on the
|
||
necessity for adopting a policy which will make it possible to maintain
|
||
a healthy peasant class as the basis of the national community. Many of
|
||
our present evils have their origin exclusively in the disproportion
|
||
between the urban and rural portions of the population. A solid stock of
|
||
small and medium farmers has at all times been the best protection which
|
||
a nation could have against the social diseases that are prevalent
|
||
to-day. Moreover, that is the only solution which guarantees the daily
|
||
bread of a nation within the framework of its domestic national economy.
|
||
With this condition once guaranteed, industry and commerce would retire
|
||
from the unhealthy position of foremost importance which they hold
|
||
to-day and would take their due place within the general scheme of
|
||
national economy, adjusting the balance between demand and supply. Thus
|
||
industry and commerce would no longer constitute the basis of the
|
||
national subsistence, but would be auxiliary institutions. By fulfilling
|
||
their proper function, which is to adjust the balance between national
|
||
production and national consumption, they render the national
|
||
subsistence more or less independent of foreign countries and thus
|
||
assure the freedom and independence of the nation, especially at
|
||
critical junctures in its history.
|
||
|
||
Such a territorial policy, however, cannot find its fulfilment in the
|
||
Cameroons but almost exclusively here in Europe. One must calmly and
|
||
squarely face the truth that it certainly cannot be part of the
|
||
dispensation of Divine Providence to give a fifty times larger share of
|
||
the soil of this world to one nation than to another. In considering
|
||
this state of affairs to-day, one must not allow existing political
|
||
frontiers to distract attention from what ought to exist on principles
|
||
of strict justice. If this earth has sufficient room for all, then we
|
||
ought to have that share of the soil which is absolutely necessary for
|
||
our existence.
|
||
|
||
Of course people will not voluntarily make that accommodation. At this
|
||
point the right of self-preservation comes into effect. And when
|
||
attempts to settle the difficulty in an amicable way are rejected the
|
||
clenched hand must take by force that which was refused to the open hand
|
||
of friendship. If in the past our ancestors had based their political
|
||
decisions on similar pacifist nonsense as our present generation does,
|
||
we should not possess more than one-third of the national territory that
|
||
we possess to-day and probably there would be no German nation to worry
|
||
about its future in Europe. No. We owe the two Eastern Marks (Note 8) of
|
||
the Empire to the natural determination of our forefathers in their
|
||
struggle for existence, and thus it is to the same determined policy that
|
||
we owe the inner strength which is based on the extent of our political
|
||
and racial territories and which alone has made it possible for us to
|
||
exist up to now.
|
||
|
||
[Note 8. German Austria was the East Mark on the South and East Prussia
|
||
was the East Mark on the North.]
|
||
|
||
And there is still another reason why that solution would have been the
|
||
correct one:
|
||
|
||
Many contemporary European States are like pyramids standing on their
|
||
apexes. The European territory which these States possess is
|
||
ridiculously small when compared with the enormous overhead weight of
|
||
their colonies, foreign trade, etc. It may be said that they have the
|
||
apex in Europe and the base of the pyramid all over the world; quite
|
||
different from the United States of America, which has its base on the
|
||
American Continent and is in contact with the rest of the world only
|
||
through its apex. Out of that situation arises the incomparable inner
|
||
strength of the U.S.A. and the contrary situation is responsible for the
|
||
weakness of most of the colonial European Powers.
|
||
|
||
England cannot be suggested as an argument against this assertion,
|
||
though in glancing casually over the map of the British Empire one is
|
||
inclined easily to overlook the existence of a whole Anglo-Saxon world.
|
||
England's position cannot be compared with that of any other State in
|
||
Europe, since it forms a vast community of language and culture together
|
||
with the U.S.A.
|
||
|
||
Therefore the only possibility which Germany had of carrying a sound
|
||
territorial policy into effect was that of acquiring new territory in
|
||
Europe itself. Colonies cannot serve this purpose as long as they are
|
||
not suited for settlement by Europeans on a large scale. In the
|
||
nineteenth century it was no longer possible to acquire such colonies by
|
||
peaceful means. Therefore any attempt at such a colonial expansion would
|
||
have meant an enormous military struggle. Consequently it would have
|
||
been more practical to undertake that military struggle for new
|
||
territory in Europe rather than to wage war for the acquisition of
|
||
possessions abroad.
|
||
|
||
Such a decision naturally demanded that the nation's undivided energies
|
||
should be devoted to it. A policy of that kind which requires for its
|
||
fulfilment every ounce of available energy on the part of everybody
|
||
concerned, cannot be carried into effect by half-measures or in a
|
||
hesitating manner. The political leadership of the German Empire should
|
||
then have been directed exclusively to this goal. No political step
|
||
should have been taken in response to other considerations than this
|
||
task and the means of accomplishing it. Germany should have been alive
|
||
to the fact that such a goal could have been reached only by war, and
|
||
the prospect of war should have been faced with calm and collected
|
||
determination.
|
||
|
||
The whole system of alliances should have been envisaged and valued from
|
||
that standpoint. If new territory were to be acquired in Europe it must
|
||
have been mainly at Russia's cost, and once again the new German Empire
|
||
should have set out on its march along the same road as was formerly
|
||
trodden by the Teutonic Knights, this time to acquire soil for the
|
||
German plough by means of the German sword and thus provide the nation
|
||
with its daily bread.
|
||
|
||
For such a policy, however, there was only one possible ally in Europe.
|
||
That was England.
|
||
|
||
Only by alliance with England was it possible to safeguard the rear of
|
||
the new German crusade. The justification for undertaking such an
|
||
expedition was stronger than the justification which our forefathers had
|
||
for setting out on theirs. Not one of our pacifists refuses to eat the
|
||
bread made from the grain grown in the East; and yet the first plough
|
||
here was that called the 'Sword'.
|
||
|
||
No sacrifice should have been considered too great if it was a necessary
|
||
means of gaining England's friendship. Colonial and naval ambitions
|
||
should have been abandoned and attempts should not have been made to
|
||
compete against British industries.
|
||
|
||
Only a clear and definite policy could lead to such an achievement. Such
|
||
a policy would have demanded a renunciation of the endeavour to conquer
|
||
the world's markets, also a renunciation of colonial intentions and
|
||
naval power. All the means of power at the disposal of the State should
|
||
have been concentrated in the military forces on land. This policy would
|
||
have involved a period of temporary self-denial, for the sake of a great
|
||
and powerful future.
|
||
|
||
There was a time when England might have entered into negotiations with
|
||
us, on the grounds of that proposal. For England would have well
|
||
understood that the problems arising from the steady increase in
|
||
population were forcing Germany to look for a solution either in Europe
|
||
with the help of England or, without England, in some other part of the
|
||
world.
|
||
|
||
This outlook was probably the chief reason why London tried to draw
|
||
nearer to Germany about the turn of the century. For the first time in
|
||
Germany an attitude was then manifested which afterwards displayed
|
||
itself in a most tragic way. People then gave expression to an
|
||
unpleasant feeling that we might thus find ourselves obliged to pull
|
||
England's chestnuts out of the fire. As if an alliance could be based on
|
||
anything else than mutual give-and-take! And England would have become a
|
||
party to such a mutual bargain. British diplomats were still wise enough
|
||
to know that an equivalent must be forthcoming as a consideration for
|
||
any services rendered.
|
||
|
||
Let us suppose that in 1904 our German foreign policy was managed
|
||
astutely enough to enable us to take the part which Japan played. It is
|
||
not easy to measure the greatness of the results that might have accrued
|
||
to Germany from such a policy.
|
||
|
||
There would have been no world war. The blood which would have been shed
|
||
in 1904 would not have been a tenth of that shed from 1914 to 1918. And
|
||
what a position Germany would hold in the world to-day?
|
||
|
||
In any case the alliance with Austria was then an absurdity.
|
||
|
||
For this mummy of a State did not attach itself to Germany for the
|
||
purpose of carrying through a war, but rather to maintain a perpetual
|
||
state of peace which was meant to be exploited for the purpose of slowly
|
||
but persistently exterminating the German element in the Dual Monarchy.
|
||
|
||
Another reason for the impossible character of this alliance was that
|
||
nobody could expect such a State to take an active part in defending
|
||
German national interests, seeing that it did not have sufficient
|
||
strength and determination to put an end to the policy of
|
||
de-Germanization within its own frontiers. If Germany herself was not
|
||
moved by a sufficiently powerful national sentiment and was not
|
||
sufficiently ruthless to take away from that absurd Habsburg State the
|
||
right to decide the destinies of ten million inhabitants who were of the
|
||
same nationality as the Germans themselves, surely it was out of the
|
||
question to expect the Habsburg State to be a collaborating party in any
|
||
great and courageous German undertaking. The attitude of the old REICH
|
||
towards the Austrian question might have been taken as a test of its
|
||
stamina for the struggle where the destinies of the whole nation were at
|
||
stake.
|
||
|
||
In any case, the policy of oppression against the German population in
|
||
Austria should not have been allowed to be carried on and to grow
|
||
stronger from year to year; for the value of Austria as an ally could be
|
||
assured only by upholding the German element there. But that course was
|
||
not followed.
|
||
|
||
Nothing was dreaded so much as the possibility of an armed conflict; but
|
||
finally, and at a most unfavourable moment, the conflict had to be faced
|
||
and accepted. They thought to cut loose from the cords of destiny, but
|
||
destiny held them fast.
|
||
|
||
They dreamt of maintaining a world peace and woke up to find themselves
|
||
in a world war.
|
||
|
||
And that dream of peace was a most significant reason why the
|
||
above-mentioned third alternative for the future development of Germany
|
||
was not even taken into consideration. The fact was recognized that new
|
||
territory could be gained only in the East; but this meant that there
|
||
would be fighting ahead, whereas they wanted peace at any cost. The
|
||
slogan of German foreign policy at one time used to be: The use of all
|
||
possible means for the maintenance of the German nation. Now it was
|
||
changed to: Maintenance of world peace by all possible means. We know
|
||
what the result was. I shall resume the discussion of this point in
|
||
detail later on.
|
||
|
||
There remained still another alternative, which we may call the fourth.
|
||
This was: Industry and world trade, naval power and colonies.
|
||
|
||
Such a development might certainly have been attained more easily and
|
||
more rapidly. To colonize a territory is a slow process, often extending
|
||
over centuries. Yet this fact is the source of its inner strength, for
|
||
it is not through a sudden burst of enthusiasm that it can be put into
|
||
effect, but rather through a gradual and enduring process of growth
|
||
quite different from industrial progress, which can be urged on by
|
||
advertisement within a few years. The result thus achieved, however, is
|
||
not of lasting quality but something frail, like a soap-bubble. It is
|
||
much easier to build quickly than to carry through the tough task of
|
||
settling a territory with farmers and establishing farmsteads. But the
|
||
former is more quickly destroyed than the latter.
|
||
|
||
In adopting such a course Germany must have known that to follow it out
|
||
would necessarily mean war sooner or later. Only children could believe
|
||
that sweet and unctuous expressions of goodness and persistent avowals
|
||
of peaceful intentions could get them their bananas through this
|
||
'friendly competition between the nations', with the prospect of never
|
||
having to fight for them.
|
||
|
||
No. Once we had taken this road, England was bound to be our enemy at
|
||
some time or other to come. Of course it fitted in nicely with our
|
||
innocent assumptions, but still it was absurd to grow indignant at the
|
||
fact that a day came when the English took the liberty of opposing our
|
||
peaceful penetration with the brutality of violent egoists.
|
||
|
||
Naturally, we on our side would never have done such a thing.
|
||
|
||
If a European territorial policy against Russia could have been put into
|
||
practice only in case we had England as our ally, on the other hand a
|
||
colonial and world-trade policy could have been carried into effect only
|
||
against English interests and with the support of Russia. But then this
|
||
policy should have been adopted in full consciousness of all the
|
||
consequences it involved and, above all things, Austria should have been
|
||
discarded as quickly as possible.
|
||
|
||
At the turn of the century the alliance with Austria had become a
|
||
veritable absurdity from all points of view.
|
||
|
||
But nobody thought of forming an alliance with Russia against England,
|
||
just as nobody thought of making England an ally against Russia; for in
|
||
either case the final result would inevitably have meant war. And to
|
||
avoid war was the very reason why a commercial and industrial policy was
|
||
decided upon. It was believed that the peaceful conquest of the world by
|
||
commercial means provided a method which would permanently supplant the
|
||
policy of force. Occasionally, however, there were doubts about the
|
||
efficiency of this principle, especially when some quite
|
||
incomprehensible warnings came from England now and again. That was the
|
||
reason why the fleet was built. It was not for the purpose of attacking
|
||
or annihilating England but merely to defend the concept of world-peace,
|
||
mentioned above, and also to protect the principle of conquering the
|
||
world by 'peaceful' means. Therefore this fleet was kept within modest
|
||
limits, not only as regards the number and tonnage of the vessels but
|
||
also in regard to their armament, the idea being to furnish new proofs
|
||
of peaceful intentions.
|
||
|
||
The chatter about the peaceful conquest of the world by commercial means
|
||
was probably the most completely nonsensical stuff ever raised to the
|
||
dignity of a guiding principle in the policy of a State, This nonsense
|
||
became even more foolish when England was pointed out as a typical
|
||
example to prove how the thing could be put into practice. Our doctrinal
|
||
way of regarding history and our professorial ideas in that domain have
|
||
done irreparable harm and offer a striking 'proof' of how people 'learn'
|
||
history without understanding anything of it. As a matter of fact,
|
||
England ought to have been looked upon as a convincing argument against
|
||
the theory of the pacific conquest of the world by commercial means. No
|
||
nation prepared the way for its commercial conquests more brutally than
|
||
England did by means of the sword, and no other nation has defended such
|
||
conquests more ruthlessly. Is it not a characteristic quality of British
|
||
statecraft that it knows how to use political power in order to gain
|
||
economic advantages and, inversely, to turn economic conquests into
|
||
political power? What an astounding error it was to believe that England
|
||
would not have the courage to give its own blood for the purposes of its
|
||
own economic expansion! The fact that England did not possess a national
|
||
army proved nothing; for it is not the actual military structure of the
|
||
moment that matters but rather the will and determination to use
|
||
whatever military strength is available. England has always had the
|
||
armament which she needed. She always fought with those weapons which
|
||
were necessary for success. She sent mercenary troops, to fight as long
|
||
as mercenaries sufficed; but she never hesitated to draw heavily and
|
||
deeply from the best blood of the whole nation when victory could be
|
||
obtained only by such a sacrifice. And in every case the fighting
|
||
spirit, dogged determination, and use of brutal means in conducting
|
||
military operations have always remained the same.
|
||
|
||
But in Germany, through the medium of the schools, the Press and the
|
||
comic papers, an idea of the Englishman was gradually formed which was
|
||
bound eventually to lead to the worst kind of self-deception. This
|
||
absurdity slowly but persistently spread into every quarter of German
|
||
life. The result was an undervaluation for which we have had to pay a
|
||
heavy penalty. The delusion was so profound that the Englishman was
|
||
looked upon as a shrewd business man, but personally a coward even to an
|
||
incredible degree. Unfortunately our lofty teachers of professorial
|
||
history did not bring home to the minds of their pupils the truth that
|
||
it is not possible to build up such a mighty organization as the British
|
||
Empire by mere swindle and fraud. The few who called attention to that
|
||
truth were either ignored or silenced. I can vividly recall to mind the
|
||
astonished looks of my comrades when they found themselves personally
|
||
face to face for the first time with the Tommies in Flanders. After a
|
||
few days of fighting the consciousness slowly dawned on our soldiers
|
||
that those Scotsmen were not like the ones we had seen described and
|
||
caricatured in the comic papers and mentioned in the communiqu<71>s.
|
||
|
||
It was then that I formed my first ideas of the efficiency of various
|
||
forms of propaganda.
|
||
|
||
Such a falsification, however, served the purpose of those who had
|
||
fabricated it. This caricature of the Englishman, though false, could be
|
||
used to prove the possibility of conquering the world peacefully by
|
||
commercial means. Where the Englishman succeeded we should also succeed.
|
||
Our far greater honesty and our freedom from that specifically English
|
||
'perfidy' would be assets on our side. Thereby it was hoped that the
|
||
sympathy of the smaller nations and the confidence of the greater
|
||
nations could be gained more easily.
|
||
|
||
We did not realize that our honesty was an object of profound aversion
|
||
for other people because we ourselves believed in it. The rest of the
|
||
world looked on our behaviour as the manifestation of a shrewd
|
||
deceitfulness; but when the revolution came, then they were amazed at
|
||
the deeper insight it gave them into our mentality, sincere even beyond
|
||
the limits of stupidity.
|
||
|
||
Once we understand the part played by that absurd notion of conquering
|
||
the world by peaceful commercial means we can clearly understand how
|
||
that other absurdity, the Triple Alliance, came to exist. With what
|
||
State then could an alliance have been made? In alliance with Austria we
|
||
could not acquire new territory by military means, even in Europe. And
|
||
this very fact was the real reason for the inner weakness of the Triple
|
||
Alliance. A Bismarck could permit himself such a makeshift for the
|
||
necessities of the moment, but certainly not any of his bungling
|
||
successors, and least of all when the foundations no longer existed on
|
||
which Bismarck had formed the Triple Alliance. In Bismarck's time
|
||
Austria could still be looked upon as a German State; but the gradual
|
||
introduction of universal suffrage turned the country into a
|
||
parliamentary Babel, in which the German voice was scarcely audible.
|
||
|
||
From the viewpoint of racial policy, this alliance with Austria was
|
||
simply disastrous. A new Slavic Great Power was allowed to grow up close
|
||
to the frontiers of the German Empire. Later on this Power was bound to
|
||
adopt towards Germany an attitude different from that of Russia, for
|
||
example. The Alliance was thus bound to become more empty and more
|
||
feeble, because the only supporters of it were losing their influence
|
||
and were being systematically pushed out of the more important public
|
||
offices.
|
||
|
||
About the year 1900 the Alliance with Austria had already entered the
|
||
same phase as the Alliance between Austria and Italy.
|
||
|
||
Here also only one alternative was possible: Either to take the side of
|
||
the Habsburg Monarchy or to raise a protest against the oppression of
|
||
the German element in Austria. But, generally speaking, when one takes
|
||
such a course it is bound eventually to lead to open conflict.
|
||
|
||
From the psychological point of view also, the Triple decreases
|
||
according as such an alliance limits its object to the defence of the
|
||
STATUS QUO. But, on the other hand, an alliance will increase its
|
||
cohesive strength the more the parties concerned in it may hope to use
|
||
it as a means of reaching some practical goal of expansion. Here, as
|
||
everywhere else, strength does not lie in defence but in attack.
|
||
|
||
This truth was recognized in various quarters but, unfortunately, not by
|
||
the so-called elected representatives of the people. As early as 1912
|
||
Ludendorff, who was then Colonel and an Officer of the General Staff,
|
||
pointed out these weak features of the Alliance in a memorandum which he
|
||
then drew up. But of course the 'statesmen' did not attach any
|
||
importance or value to that document. In general it would seem as if
|
||
reason were a faculty that is active only in the case of ordinary
|
||
mortals but that it is entirely absent when we come to deal with that
|
||
branch of the species known as 'diplomats'.
|
||
|
||
It was lucky for Germany that the war of 1914 broke out with Austria as
|
||
its direct cause, for thus the Habsburgs were compelled to participate.
|
||
Had the origin of the War been otherwise, Germany would have been left
|
||
to her own resources. The Habsburg State would never have been ready or
|
||
willing to take part in a war for the origin of which Germany was
|
||
responsible. What was the object of so much obloquy later in the case of
|
||
Italy's decision would have taken place, only earlier, in the case of
|
||
Austria. In other words, if Germany had been forced to go to war for
|
||
some reason of its own, Austria would have remained 'neutral' in order
|
||
to safeguard the State against a revolution which might begin
|
||
immediately after the war had started. The Slav element would have
|
||
preferred to smash up the Dual Monarchy in 1914 rather than permit it to
|
||
come to the assistance of Germany. But at that time there were only a
|
||
few who understood all the dangers and aggravations which resulted from
|
||
the alliance with the Danubian Monarchy.
|
||
|
||
In the first place, Austria had too many enemies who were eagerly
|
||
looking forward to obtain the heritage of that decrepit State, so that
|
||
these people gradually developed a certain animosity against Germany,
|
||
because Germany was an obstacle to their desires inasmuch as it kept the
|
||
Dual Monarchy from falling to pieces, a consummation that was hoped for
|
||
and yearned for on all sides. The conviction developed that Vienna could
|
||
be reached only by passing through Berlin.
|
||
|
||
In the second place, by adopting this policy Germany lost its best and
|
||
most promising chances of other alliances. In place of these
|
||
possibilities one now observed a growing tension in the relations with
|
||
Russia and even with Italy. And this in spite of the fact that the
|
||
general attitude in Rome was just as favourable to Germany as it was
|
||
hostile to Austria, a hostility which lay dormant in the individual
|
||
Italian and broke out violently on occasion.
|
||
|
||
Since a commercial and industrial policy had been adopted, no motive was
|
||
left for waging war against Russia. Only the enemies of the two
|
||
countries, Germany and Russia, could have an active interest in such a
|
||
war under these circumstances. As a matter of fact, it was only the Jews
|
||
and the Marxists who tried to stir up bad blood between the two States.
|
||
|
||
In the third place, the Alliance constituted a permanent danger to
|
||
German security; for any great Power that was hostile to Bismarck's
|
||
Empire could mobilize a whole lot of other States in a war against
|
||
Germany by promising them tempting spoils at the expense of the Austrian
|
||
ally.
|
||
|
||
It was possible to arouse the whole of Eastern Europe against Austria,
|
||
especially Russia, and Italy also. The world coalition which had
|
||
developed under the leadership of King Edward could never have become a
|
||
reality if Germany's ally, Austria, had not offered such an alluring
|
||
prospect of booty. It was this fact alone which made it possible to
|
||
combine so many heterogeneous States with divergent interests into one
|
||
common phalanx of attack. Every member could hope to enrich himself at
|
||
the expense of Austria if he joined in the general attack against
|
||
Germany. The fact that Turkey was also a tacit party to the unfortunate
|
||
alliance with Austria augmented Germany's peril to an extraordinary
|
||
degree.
|
||
|
||
Jewish international finance needed this bait of the Austrian heritage
|
||
in order to carry out its plans of ruining Germany; for Germany had not
|
||
yet surrendered to the general control which the international captains
|
||
of finance and trade exercised over the other States. Thus it was
|
||
possible to consolidate that coalition and make it strong enough and
|
||
brave enough, through the sheer weight of numbers, to join in bodily
|
||
conflict with the 'horned' Siegfried. (Note 9)
|
||
|
||
[Note 9. Carlyle explains the epithet thus: "First then, let no one from
|
||
the title GEHOERNTE (Horned, Behorned), fancy that our brave Siegfried,
|
||
who was the loveliest as well as the bravest of men, was actually
|
||
cornuted, and had hornson his brow, though like Michael Angelo's Moses; or
|
||
even that his skin, to which the epithet BEHORNED refers, was hard like a
|
||
crocodile's, and not softer than the softest shamey, for the truth is,
|
||
his Hornedness means only an Invulnerability, like that of Achilles..."]
|
||
|
||
The alliance with the Habsburg Monarchy, which I loathed while still in
|
||
Austria, was the subject of grave concern on my part and caused me to
|
||
meditate on it so persistently that finally I came to the conclusions
|
||
which I have mentioned above.
|
||
|
||
In the small circles which I frequented at that time I did not conceal
|
||
my conviction that this sinister agreement with a State doomed to
|
||
collapse would also bring catastrophe to Germany if she did not free
|
||
herself from it in time. I never for a moment wavered in that firm
|
||
conviction, even when the tempest of the World War seemed to have made
|
||
shipwreck of the reasoning faculty itself and had put blind enthusiasm
|
||
in its place, even among those circles where the coolest and hardest
|
||
objective thinking ought to have held sway. In the trenches I voiced and
|
||
upheld my own opinion whenever these problems came under discussion. I
|
||
held that to abandon the Habsburg Monarchy would involve no sacrifice if
|
||
Germany could thereby reduce the number of her own enemies; for the
|
||
millions of Germans who had donned the steel helmet had done so not to
|
||
fight for the maintenance of a corrupt dynasty but rather for the
|
||
salvation of the German people.
|
||
|
||
Before the War there were occasions on which it seemed that at least one
|
||
section of the German public had some slight misgivings about the
|
||
political wisdom of the alliance with Austria. From time to time German
|
||
conservative circles issued warnings against being over-confident about
|
||
the worth of that alliance; but, like every other reasonable suggestion
|
||
made at that time, it was thrown to the winds. The general conviction
|
||
was that the right measures had been adopted to 'conquer' the world,
|
||
that the success of these measures would be enormous and the sacrifices
|
||
negligible.
|
||
|
||
Once again the 'uninitiated' layman could do nothing but observe how the
|
||
'elect' were marching straight ahead towards disaster and enticing their
|
||
beloved people to follow them, as the rats followed the Pied Piper of
|
||
Hamelin.
|
||
|
||
If we would look for the deeper grounds which made it possible to foist
|
||
on the people this absurd notion of peacefully conquering the world
|
||
through commercial penetration, and how it was possible to put forward
|
||
the maintenance of world-peace as a national aim, we shall find that
|
||
these grounds lay in a general morbid condition that had pervaded the
|
||
whole body of German political thought.
|
||
|
||
The triumphant progress of technical science in Germany and the
|
||
marvellous development of German industries and commerce led us to
|
||
forget that a powerful State had been the necessary pre-requisite of
|
||
that success. On the contrary, certain circles went even so far as to
|
||
give vent to the theory that the State owed its very existence to these
|
||
phenomena; that it was, above all, an economic institution and should be
|
||
constituted in accordance with economic interests. Therefore, it was
|
||
held, the State was dependent on the economic structure. This condition
|
||
of things was looked upon and glorified as the soundest and most normal
|
||
arrangement.
|
||
|
||
Now, the truth is that the State in itself has nothing whatsoever to do
|
||
with any definite economic concept or a definite economic development.
|
||
It does not arise from a compact made between contracting parties,
|
||
within a certain delimited territory, for the purpose of serving
|
||
economic ends. The State is a community of living beings who have
|
||
kindred physical and spiritual natures, organized for the purpose of
|
||
assuring the conservation of their own kind and to help towards
|
||
fulfilling those ends which Providence has assigned to that particular
|
||
race or racial branch. Therein, and therein alone, lie the purpose and
|
||
meaning of a State. Economic activity is one of the many auxiliary means
|
||
which are necessary for the attainment of those aims. But economic
|
||
activity is never the origin or purpose of a State, except where a State
|
||
has been originally founded on a false and unnatural basis. And this
|
||
alone explains why a State as such does not necessarily need a certain
|
||
delimited territory as a condition of its establishment. This condition
|
||
becomes a necessary pre-requisite only among those people who would
|
||
provide and assure subsistence for their kinsfolk through their own
|
||
industry, which means that they are ready to carry on the struggle for
|
||
existence by means of their own work. People who can sneak their way,
|
||
like parasites, into the human body politic and make others work for
|
||
them under various pretences can form a State without possessing any
|
||
definite delimited territory. This is chiefly applicable to that
|
||
parasitic nation which, particularly at the present time preys upon the
|
||
honest portion of mankind; I mean the Jews.
|
||
|
||
The Jewish State has never been delimited in space. It has been spread
|
||
all over the world, without any frontiers whatsoever, and has always
|
||
been constituted from the membership of one race exclusively. That is
|
||
why the Jews have always formed a State within the State. One of the
|
||
most ingenious tricks ever devised has been that of sailing the Jewish
|
||
ship-of-state under the flag of Religion and thus securing that
|
||
tolerance which Aryans are always ready to grant to different religious
|
||
faiths. But the Mosaic Law is really nothing else than the doctrine of
|
||
the preservation of the Jewish race. Therefore this Law takes in all
|
||
spheres of sociological, political and economic science which have a
|
||
bearing on the main end in view.
|
||
|
||
The instinct for the preservation of one's own species is the primary
|
||
cause that leads to the formation of human communities. Hence the State
|
||
is a racial organism, and not an economic organization. The difference
|
||
between the two is so great as to be incomprehensible to our
|
||
contemporary so-called 'statesmen'. That is why they like to believe
|
||
that the State may be constituted as an economic structure, whereas the
|
||
truth is that it has always resulted from the exercise of those
|
||
qualities which are part of the will to preserve the species and the
|
||
race. But these qualities always exist and operate through the heroic
|
||
virtues and have nothing to do with commercial egoism; for the
|
||
conservation of the species always presupposes that the individual is
|
||
ready to sacrifice himself. Such is the meaning of the poet's lines:
|
||
|
||
UND SETZET IHR NICHT DAS LEBEN EIN,
|
||
NIE WIRD EUCH DAS LEBEN GEWONNEN SEIN.
|
||
|
||
(AND IF YOU DO NOT STAKE YOUR LIFE,
|
||
YOU WILL NEVER WIN LIFE FOR YOURSELF.)
|
||
|
||
[Note 10. Lines quoted from the Song of the Curassiers in Schiller's
|
||
WALLENSTEIN.]
|
||
|
||
The sacrifice of the individual existence is necessary in order to
|
||
assure the conservation of the race. Hence it is that the most essential
|
||
condition for the establishment and maintenance of a State is a certain
|
||
feeling of solidarity, wounded in an identity of character and race and
|
||
in a resolute readiness to defend these at all costs. With people who
|
||
live on their own territory this will result in a development of the
|
||
heroic virtues; with a parasitic people it will develop the arts of
|
||
subterfuge and gross perfidy unless we admit that these characteristics
|
||
are innate and that the varying political forms through which the
|
||
parasitic race expresses itself are only the outward manifestations of
|
||
innate characteristics. At least in the beginning, the formation of a
|
||
State can result only from a manifestation of the heroic qualities I
|
||
have spoken of. And the people who fail in the struggle for existence,
|
||
that is to say those, who become vassals and are thereby condemned to
|
||
disappear entirely sooner or later, are those who do not display the
|
||
heroic virtues in the struggle, or those who fall victims to the perfidy
|
||
of the parasites. And even in this latter case the failure is not so
|
||
much due to lack of intellectual powers, but rather to a lack of courage
|
||
and determination. An attempt is made to conceal the real nature of this
|
||
failing by saying that it is the humane feeling.
|
||
|
||
The qualities which are employed for the foundation and preservation of
|
||
a State have accordingly little or nothing to do with the economic
|
||
situation. And this is conspicuously demonstrated by the fact that the
|
||
inner strength of a State only very rarely coincides with what is called
|
||
its economic expansion. On the contrary, there are numerous examples to
|
||
show that a period of economic prosperity indicates the approaching
|
||
decline of a State. If it were correct to attribute the foundation of
|
||
human communities to economic forces, then the power of the State as
|
||
such would be at its highest pitch during periods of economic
|
||
prosperity, and not vice versa.
|
||
|
||
It is specially difficult to understand how the belief that the State is
|
||
brought into being and preserved by economic forces could gain currency
|
||
in a country which has given proof of the opposite in every phase of its
|
||
history. The history of Prussia shows in a manner particularly clear and
|
||
distinct, that it is out of the moral virtues of the people and not from
|
||
their economic circumstances that a State is formed. It is only under
|
||
the protection of those virtues that economic activities can be
|
||
developed and the latter will continue to flourish until a time comes
|
||
when the creative political capacity declines. Therewith the economic
|
||
structure will also break down, a phenomenon which is now happening in
|
||
an alarming manner before our eyes. The material interest of mankind can
|
||
prosper only in the shade of the heroic virtues. The moment they become
|
||
the primary considerations of life they wreck the basis of their own
|
||
existence.
|
||
|
||
Whenever the political power of Germany was specially strong the
|
||
economic situation also improved. But whenever economic interests alone
|
||
occupied the foremost place in the life of the people, and thrust
|
||
transcendent ideals into the back.-ground, the State collapsed and
|
||
economic ruin followed readily.
|
||
|
||
If we consider the question of what those forces actually are which are
|
||
necessary to the creation and preservation of a State, we shall find
|
||
that they are: The capacity and readiness to sacrifice the individual to
|
||
the common welfare. That these qualities have nothing at all to do with
|
||
economics can be proved by referring to the simple fact that man does
|
||
not sacrifice himself for material interests. In other words, he will
|
||
die for an ideal but not for a business. The marvellous gift for public
|
||
psychology which the English have was never shown better than the way in
|
||
which they presented their case in the World War. We were fighting for
|
||
our bread; but the English declared that they were fighting for
|
||
'freedom', and not at all for their own freedom. Oh, no, but for the
|
||
freedom of the small nations. German people laughed at that effrontery
|
||
and were angered by it; but in doing so they showed how political
|
||
thought had declined among our so-called diplomats in Germany even
|
||
before the War. These diplomatists did not have the slightest notion of
|
||
what that force was which brought men to face death of their own free
|
||
will and determination.
|
||
|
||
As long as the German people, in the War of 1914, continued to believe
|
||
that they were fighting for ideals they stood firm. As soon as they were
|
||
told that they were fighting only for their daily bread they began to
|
||
give up the struggle.
|
||
|
||
Our clever 'statesmen' were greatly amazed at this change of feeling.
|
||
They never understood that as soon as man is called upon to struggle for
|
||
purely material causes he will avoid death as best he can; for death and
|
||
the enjoyment of the material fruits of a victory are quite incompatible
|
||
concepts. The frailest woman will become a heroine when the life of her
|
||
own child is at stake. And only the will to save the race and native
|
||
land or the State, which offers protection to the race, has in all ages
|
||
been the urge which has forced men to face the weapons of their enemies.
|
||
|
||
The following may be proclaimed as a truth that always holds good:
|
||
|
||
A State has never arisen from commercial causes for the purpose of
|
||
peacefully serving commercial ends; but States have always arisen from
|
||
the instinct to maintain the racial group, whether this instinct
|
||
manifest itself in the heroic sphere or in the sphere of cunning and
|
||
chicanery. In the first case we have the Aryan States, based on the
|
||
principles of work and cultural development. In the second case we have
|
||
the Jewish parasitic colonies. But as soon as economic interests begin
|
||
to predominate over the racial and cultural instincts in a people or a
|
||
State, these economic interests unloose the causes that lead to
|
||
subjugation and oppression.
|
||
|
||
The belief, which prevailed in Germany before the War, that the world
|
||
could be opened up and even conquered for Germany through a system of
|
||
peaceful commercial penetration and a colonial policy was a typical
|
||
symptom which indicated the decline of those real qualities whereby
|
||
States are created and preserved, and indicated also the decline of that
|
||
insight, will-power and practical determination which belong to those
|
||
qualities. The World War with its consequences, was the natural
|
||
liquidation of that decline.
|
||
|
||
To anyone who had not thought over the matter deeply, this attitude of
|
||
the German people--which was quite general--must have seemed an
|
||
insoluble enigma. After all, Germany herself was a magnificent example
|
||
of an empire that had been built up purely by a policy of power.
|
||
Prussia, which was the generative cell of the German Empire, had been
|
||
created by brilliant heroic deeds and not by a financial or commercial
|
||
compact. And the Empire itself was but the magnificent recompense for a
|
||
leadership that had been conducted on a policy of power and military
|
||
valour.
|
||
|
||
How then did it happen that the political instincts of this very same
|
||
German people became so degenerate? For it was not merely one isolated
|
||
phenomenon which pointed to this decadence, but morbid symptoms which
|
||
appeared in alarming numbers, now all over the body politic, or eating
|
||
into the body of the nation like a gangrenous ulcer. It seemed as if
|
||
some all-pervading poisonous fluid had been injected by some mysterious
|
||
hand into the bloodstream of this once heroic body, bringing about a
|
||
creeping paralysis that affected the reason and the elementary instinct
|
||
of self-preservation.
|
||
|
||
During the years 1912-1914 I used to ponder perpetually on those
|
||
problems which related to the policy of the Triple Alliance and the
|
||
economic policy then being pursued by the German Empire. Once again I
|
||
came to the conclusion that the only explanation of this enigma lay in
|
||
the operation of that force which I had already become acquainted with
|
||
in Vienna, though from a different angle of vision. The force to which I
|
||
refer was the Marxist teaching and WELTANSCHAUUNG and its organized
|
||
action throughout the nation.
|
||
|
||
For the second time in my life I plunged deep into the study of that
|
||
destructive teaching. This time, however, I was not urged by the study
|
||
of the question by the impressions and influences of my daily
|
||
environment, but directed rather by the observation of general phenomena
|
||
in the political life of Germany. In delving again into the theoretical
|
||
literature of this new world and endeavouring to get a clear view of the
|
||
possible consequences of its teaching, I compared the theoretical
|
||
principles of Marxism with the phenomena and happenings brought about by
|
||
its activities in the political, cultural, and economic spheres.
|
||
|
||
For the first time in my life I now turned my attention to the efforts
|
||
that were being made to subdue this universal pest.
|
||
|
||
I studied Bismarck's exceptional legislation in its original concept,
|
||
its operation and its results. Gradually I formed a basis for my own
|
||
opinions, which has proved as solid as a rock, so that never since have
|
||
I had to change my attitude towards the general problem. I also made a
|
||
further and more thorough analysis of the relations between Marxism and
|
||
Jewry.
|
||
|
||
During my sojourn in Vienna I used to look upon Germany as an
|
||
imperturbable colossus; but even then serious doubts and misgivings
|
||
would often disturb me. In my own mind and in my conversation with my
|
||
small circle of acquaintances I used to criticize Germany's foreign
|
||
policy and the incredibly superficial way, according to my thinking, in
|
||
which Marxism was dealt with, though it was then the most important
|
||
problem in Germany. I could not understand how they could stumble
|
||
blindfolded into the midst of this peril, the effects of which would be
|
||
momentous if the openly declared aims of Marxism could be put into
|
||
practice. Even as early as that time I warned people around me, just as
|
||
I am warning a wider audience now, against that soothing slogan of all
|
||
indolent and feckless nature: NOTHING CAN HAPPEN TO US. A similar mental
|
||
contagion had already destroyed a mighty empire. Can Germany escape the
|
||
operation of those laws to which all other human communities are
|
||
subject?
|
||
|
||
In the years 1913 and 1914 I expressed my opinion for the first time in
|
||
various circles, some of which are now members of the National Socialist
|
||
Movement, that the problem of how the future of the German nation can be
|
||
secured is the problem of how Marxism can be exterminated.
|
||
|
||
I considered the disastrous policy of the Triple Alliance as one of the
|
||
consequences resulting from the disintegrating effects of the Marxist
|
||
teaching; for the alarming feature was that this teaching was invisibly
|
||
corrupting the foundations of a healthy political and economic outlook.
|
||
Those who had been themselves contaminated frequently did not realise
|
||
that their aims and actions sprang from this WELTANSCHAUUNG, which they
|
||
otherwise openly repudiated.
|
||
|
||
Long before then the spiritual and moral decline of the German people
|
||
had set in, though those who were affected by the morbid decadence were
|
||
frequently unaware--as often happens--of the forces which were breaking
|
||
up their very existence. Sometimes they tried to cure the disease by
|
||
doctoring the symptoms, which were taken as the cause. But since nobody
|
||
recognized, or wanted to recognize, the real cause of the disease this
|
||
way of combating Marxism was no more effective than the application of
|
||
some quack's ointment.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
CHAPTER V
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
THE WORLD WAR
|
||
|
||
|
||
During the boisterous years of my youth nothing used to damp my wild
|
||
spirits so much as to think that I was born at a time when the world had
|
||
manifestly decided not to erect any more temples of fame except in
|
||
honour of business people and State officials. The tempest of historical
|
||
achievements seemed to have permanently subsided, so much so that the
|
||
future appeared to be irrevocably delivered over to what was called
|
||
peaceful competition between the nations. This simply meant a system of
|
||
mutual exploitation by fraudulent means, the principle of resorting to
|
||
the use of force in self-defence being formally excluded. Individual
|
||
countries increasingly assumed the appearance of commercial
|
||
undertakings, grabbing territory and clients and concessions from each
|
||
other under any and every kind of pretext. And it was all staged to an
|
||
accompaniment of loud but innocuous shouting. This trend of affairs
|
||
seemed destined to develop steadily and permanently. Having the support
|
||
of public approbation, it seemed bound eventually to transform the world
|
||
into a mammoth department store. In the vestibule of this emporium there
|
||
would be rows of monumental busts which would confer immortality on
|
||
those profiteers who had proved themselves the shrewdest at their trade
|
||
and those administrative officials who had shown themselves the most
|
||
innocuous. The salesmen could be represented by the English and the
|
||
administrative functionaries by the Germans; whereas the Jews would be
|
||
sacrificed to the unprofitable calling of proprietorship, for they are
|
||
constantly avowing that they make no profits and are always being called
|
||
upon to 'pay out'. Moreover they have the advantage of being versed in
|
||
the foreign languages.
|
||
|
||
Why could I not have been born a hundred years ago? I used to ask
|
||
myself. Somewhere about the time of the Wars of Liberation, when a man
|
||
was still of some value even though he had no 'business'.
|
||
|
||
Thus I used to think it an ill-deserved stroke of bad luck that I had
|
||
arrived too late on this terrestrial globe, and I felt chagrined at the
|
||
idea that my life would have to run its course along peaceful and
|
||
orderly lines. As a boy I was anything but a pacifist and all attempts
|
||
to make me so turned out futile.
|
||
|
||
Then the Boer War came, like a glow of lightning on the far horizon. Day
|
||
after day I used to gaze intently at the newspapers and I almost
|
||
'devoured' the telegrams and COMMUNIQUES, overjoyed to think that I
|
||
could witness that heroic struggle, even though from so great a
|
||
distance.
|
||
|
||
When the Russo-Japanese War came I was older and better able to judge
|
||
for myself. For national reasons I then took the side of the Japanese in
|
||
our discussions. I looked upon the defeat of the Russians as a blow to
|
||
Austrian Slavism.
|
||
|
||
Many years had passed between that time and my arrival in Munich. I now
|
||
realized that what I formerly believed to be a morbid decadence was only
|
||
the lull before the storm. During my Vienna days the Balkans were
|
||
already in the grip of that sultry pause which presages the violent
|
||
storm. Here and there a flash of lightning could be occasionally seen;
|
||
but it rapidly disappeared in sinister gloom. Then the Balkan War broke
|
||
out; and therewith the first gusts of the forthcoming tornado swept
|
||
across a highly-strung Europe. In the supervening calm men felt the
|
||
atmosphere oppressive and foreboding, so much so that the sense of an
|
||
impending catastrophe became transformed into a feeling of impatient
|
||
expectance. They wished that Heaven would give free rein to the fate
|
||
which could now no longer be curbed. Then the first great bolt of
|
||
lightning struck the earth. The storm broke and the thunder of the
|
||
heavens intermingled with the roar of the cannons in the World War.
|
||
|
||
When the news came to Munich that the Archduke Franz Ferdinand had been
|
||
murdered, I had been at home all day and did not get the particulars of
|
||
how it happened. At first I feared that the shots may have been fired by
|
||
some German-Austrian students who had been aroused to a state of furious
|
||
indignation by the persistent pro-Slav activities of the Heir to the
|
||
Habsburg Throne and therefore wished to liberate the German population
|
||
from this internal enemy. It was quite easy to imagine what the result
|
||
of such a mistake would have been. It would have brought on a new wave
|
||
of persecution, the motives of which would have been 'justified' before
|
||
the whole world. But soon afterwards I heard the names of the presumed
|
||
assassins and also that they were known to be Serbs. I felt somewhat
|
||
dumbfounded in face of the inexorable vengeance which Destiny had
|
||
wrought. The greatest friend of the Slavs had fallen a victim to the
|
||
bullets of Slav patriots.
|
||
|
||
It is unjust to the Vienna government of that time to blame it now for
|
||
the form and tenor of the ultimatum which was then presented. In a
|
||
similar position and under similar circumstances, no other Power in the
|
||
world would have acted otherwise. On her southern frontiers Austria had
|
||
a relentless mortal foe who indulged in acts of provocation against the
|
||
Dual Monarchy at intervals which were becoming more and more frequent.
|
||
This persistent line of conduct would not have been relaxed until the
|
||
arrival of the opportune moment for the destruction of the Empire. In
|
||
Austria there was good reason to fear that, at the latest, this moment
|
||
would come with the death of the old Emperor. Once that had taken place,
|
||
it was quite possible that the Monarchy would not be able to offer any
|
||
serious resistance. For some years past the State had been so completely
|
||
identified with the personality of Francis Joseph that, in the eyes of
|
||
the great mass of the people, the death of this venerable
|
||
personification of the Empire would be tantamount to the death of the
|
||
Empire itself. Indeed it was one of the clever artifices of Slav policy
|
||
to foster the impression that the Austrian State owed its very existence
|
||
exclusively to the prodigies and rare talents of that monarch. This kind
|
||
of flattery was particularly welcomed at the Hofburg, all the more
|
||
because it had no relation whatsoever to the services actually rendered
|
||
by the Emperor. No effort whatsoever was made to locate the carefully
|
||
prepared sting which lay hidden in this glorifying praise. One fact
|
||
which was entirely overlooked, perhaps intentionally, was that the more
|
||
the Empire remained dependent on the so-called administrative talents of
|
||
'the wisest Monarch of all times', the more catastrophic would be the
|
||
situation when Fate came to knock at the door and demand its tribute.
|
||
|
||
Was it possible even to imagine the Austrian Empire without its
|
||
venerable ruler? Would not the tragedy which befell Maria Theresa be
|
||
repeated at once?
|
||
|
||
It is really unjust to the Vienna governmental circles to reproach them
|
||
with having instigated a war which might have been prevented. The war
|
||
was bound to come. Perhaps it might have been postponed for a year or
|
||
two at the most. But it had always been the misfortune of German, as
|
||
well as Austrian, diplomats that they endeavoured to put off the
|
||
inevitable day of reckoning, with the result that they were finally
|
||
compelled to deliver their blow at a most inopportune moment.
|
||
|
||
No. Those who did not wish this war ought to have had the courage to
|
||
take the consequences of the refusal upon themselves. Those consequences
|
||
must necessarily have meant the sacrifice of Austria. And even then war
|
||
would have come, not as a war in which all the nations would have been
|
||
banded against us but in the form of a dismemberment of the Habsburg
|
||
Monarchy. In that case we should have had to decide whether we should
|
||
come to the assistance of the Habsburg or stand aside as spectators,
|
||
with our arms folded, and thus allow Fate to run its course.
|
||
|
||
Just those who are loudest in their imprecations to-day and make a great
|
||
parade of wisdom in judging the causes of the war are the very same
|
||
people whose collaboration was the most fatal factor in steering towards
|
||
the war.
|
||
|
||
For several decades previously the German Social-Democrats had been
|
||
agitating in an underhand and knavish way for war against Russia;
|
||
whereas the German Centre Party, with religious ends in view, had worked
|
||
to make the Austrian State the chief centre and turning-point of German
|
||
policy. The consequences of this folly had now to be borne. What came
|
||
was bound to come and under no circumstances could it have been avoided.
|
||
The fault of the German Government lay in the fact that, merely for the
|
||
sake of preserving peace at all costs, it continued to miss the
|
||
occasions that were favourable for action, got entangled in an alliance
|
||
for the purpose of preserving the peace of the world, and thus finally
|
||
became the victim of a world coalition which opposed the German effort
|
||
for the maintenance of peace and was determined to bring about the world
|
||
war.
|
||
|
||
Had the Vienna Government of that time formulated its ultimatum in less
|
||
drastic terms, that would not have altered the situation at all: but
|
||
such a course might have aroused public indignation. For, in the eyes of
|
||
the great masses, the ultimatum was too moderate and certainly not
|
||
excessive or brutal. Those who would deny this to-day are either
|
||
simpletons with feeble memories or else deliberate falsehood-mongers.
|
||
|
||
The War of 1914 was certainly not forced on the masses; it was even
|
||
desired by the whole people.
|
||
|
||
There was a desire to bring the general feeling of uncertainty to an end
|
||
once and for all. And it is only in the light of this fact that we can
|
||
understand how more than two million German men and youths voluntarily
|
||
joined the colours, ready to shed the last drop of their blood for the
|
||
cause.
|
||
|
||
For me these hours came as a deliverance from the distress that had
|
||
weighed upon me during the days of my youth. I am not ashamed to
|
||
acknowledge to-day that I was carried away by the enthusiasm of the
|
||
moment and that I sank down upon my knees and thanked Heaven out of the
|
||
fullness of my heart for the favour of having been permitted to live in
|
||
such a time.
|
||
|
||
The fight for freedom had broken out on an unparalleled scale in the
|
||
history of the world. From the moment that Fate took the helm in hand
|
||
the conviction grew among the mass of the people that now it was not a
|
||
question of deciding the destinies of Austria or Serbia but that the
|
||
very existence of the German nation itself was at stake.
|
||
|
||
At last, after many years of blindness, the people saw clearly into the
|
||
future. Therefore, almost immediately after the gigantic struggle had
|
||
begun, an excessive enthusiasm was replaced by a more earnest and more
|
||
fitting undertone, because the exaltation of the popular spirit was not
|
||
a mere passing frenzy. It was only too necessary that the gravity of the
|
||
situation should be recognized. At that time there was, generally
|
||
speaking, not the slightest presentiment or conception of how long the
|
||
war might last. People dreamed of the soldiers being home by Christmas
|
||
and that then they would resume their daily work in peace.
|
||
|
||
Whatever mankind desires, that it will hope for and believe in. The
|
||
overwhelming majority of the people had long since grown weary of the
|
||
perpetual insecurity in the general condition of public affairs. Hence
|
||
it was only natural that no one believed that the Austro-Serbian
|
||
conflict could be shelved. Therefore they looked forward to a radical
|
||
settlement of accounts. I also belonged to the millions that desired
|
||
this.
|
||
|
||
The moment the news of the Sarajevo outrage reached Munich two ideas
|
||
came into my mind: First, that war was absolutely inevitable and,
|
||
second, that the Habsburg State would now be forced to honour its
|
||
signature to the alliance. For what I had feared most was that one day
|
||
Germany herself, perhaps as a result of the Alliance, would become
|
||
involved in a conflict the first direct cause of which did not affect
|
||
Austria. In such a contingency, I feared that the Austrian State, for
|
||
domestic political reasons, would find itself unable to decide in favour
|
||
of its ally. But now this danger was removed. The old State was
|
||
compelled to fight, whether it wished to do so or not.
|
||
|
||
My own attitude towards the conflict was equally simple and clear. I
|
||
believed that it was not a case of Austria fighting to get satisfaction
|
||
from Serbia but rather a case of Germany fighting for her own
|
||
existence--the German nation for its own to-be-or-not-to-be, for its
|
||
freedom and for its future. The work of Bismarck must now be carried on.
|
||
Young Germany must show itself worthy of the blood shed by our fathers
|
||
on so many heroic fields of battle, from Weissenburg to Sedan and Paris.
|
||
And if this struggle should bring us victory our people will again rank
|
||
foremost among the great nations. Only then could the German Empire
|
||
assert itself as the mighty champion of peace, without the necessity of
|
||
restricting the daily bread of its children for the sake of maintaining
|
||
the peace.
|
||
|
||
As a boy and as a young man, I often longed for the occasion to prove
|
||
that my national enthusiasm was not mere vapouring. Hurrahing sometimes
|
||
seemed to me to be a kind of sinful indulgence, though I could not give
|
||
any justification for that feeling; for, after all, who has the right to
|
||
shout that triumphant word if he has not won the right to it there where
|
||
there is no play-acting and where the hand of the Goddess of Destiny
|
||
puts the truth and sincerity of nations and men through her inexorable
|
||
test? Just as millions of others, I felt a proud joy in being permitted
|
||
to go through this test. I had so often sung DEUTSCHLAND <20>BER ALLES and
|
||
so often roared 'HEIL' that I now thought it was as a kind of
|
||
retro-active grace that I was granted the right of appearing before the
|
||
Court of Eternal Justice to testify to the truth of those sentiments.
|
||
|
||
One thing was clear to me from the very beginning, namely, that in the
|
||
event of war, which now seemed inevitable, my books would have to be
|
||
thrown aside forthwith. I also realized that my place would have to be
|
||
there where the inner voice of conscience called me.
|
||
|
||
I had left Austria principally for political reasons. What therefore
|
||
could be more rational than that I should put into practice the logical
|
||
consequences of my political opinions, now that the war had begun. I had
|
||
no desire to fight for the Habsburg cause, but I was prepared to die at
|
||
any time for my own kinsfolk and the Empire to which they really
|
||
belonged.
|
||
|
||
On August 3rd, 1914, I presented an urgent petition to His Majesty, King
|
||
Ludwig III, requesting to be allowed to serve in a Bavarian regiment. In
|
||
those days the Chancellery had its hands quite full and therefore I was
|
||
all the more pleased when I received the answer a day later, that my
|
||
request had been granted. I opened the document with trembling hands;
|
||
and no words of mine could now describe the satisfaction I felt on
|
||
reading that I was instructed to report to a Bavarian regiment. Within a
|
||
few days I was wearing that uniform which I was not to put oft again for
|
||
nearly six years.
|
||
|
||
For me, as for every German, the most memorable period of my life now
|
||
began. Face to face with that mighty struggle, all the past fell away
|
||
into oblivion. With a wistful pride I look back on those days,
|
||
especially because we are now approaching the tenth anniversary of that
|
||
memorable happening. I recall those early weeks of war when kind fortune
|
||
permitted me to take my place in that heroic struggle among the nations.
|
||
|
||
As the scene unfolds itself before my mind, it seems only like
|
||
yesterday. I see myself among my young comrades on our first parade
|
||
drill, and so on until at last the day came on which we were to leave
|
||
for the front.
|
||
|
||
In common with the others, I had one worry during those days. This was a
|
||
fear that we might arrive too late for the fighting at the front. Time
|
||
and again that thought disturbed me and every announcement of a
|
||
victorious engagement left a bitter taste, which increased as the news
|
||
of further victories arrived.
|
||
|
||
At long last the day came when we left Munich on war service. For the
|
||
first time in my life I saw the Rhine, as we journeyed westwards to
|
||
stand guard before that historic German river against its traditional
|
||
and grasping enemy. As the first soft rays of the morning sun broke
|
||
through the light mist and disclosed to us the Niederwald Statue, with
|
||
one accord the whole troop train broke into the strains of DIE WACHT AM
|
||
RHEIN. I then felt as if my heart could not contain its spirit.
|
||
|
||
And then followed a damp, cold night in Flanders. We marched in silence
|
||
throughout the night and as the morning sun came through the mist an
|
||
iron greeting suddenly burst above our heads. Shrapnel exploded in our
|
||
midst and spluttered in the damp ground. But before the smoke of the
|
||
explosion disappeared a wild 'Hurrah' was shouted from two hundred
|
||
throats, in response to this first greeting of Death. Then began the
|
||
whistling of bullets and the booming of cannons, the shouting and
|
||
singing of the combatants. With eyes straining feverishly, we pressed
|
||
forward, quicker and quicker, until we finally came to close-quarter
|
||
fighting, there beyond the beet-fields and the meadows. Soon the strains
|
||
of a song reached us from afar. Nearer and nearer, from company to
|
||
company, it came. And while Death began to make havoc in our ranks we
|
||
passed the song on to those beside us: DEUTSCHLAND, DEUTSCHLAND <20>BER
|
||
ALLES, <20>BER ALLES IN DER WELT.
|
||
|
||
After four days in the trenches we came back. Even our step was no
|
||
longer what it had been. Boys of seventeen looked now like grown men.
|
||
The rank and file of the List Regiment (Note 11) had not been properly
|
||
trained in the art of warfare, but they knew how to die like old soldiers.
|
||
|
||
[Note 11. The Second Infantry Bavarian Regiment, in which Hitler served
|
||
as a volunteer.]
|
||
|
||
That was the beginning. And thus we carried on from year to year. A
|
||
feeling of horror replaced the romantic fighting spirit. Enthusiasm
|
||
cooled down gradually and exuberant spirits were quelled by the fear of
|
||
the ever-present Death. A time came when there arose within each one of
|
||
us a conflict between the urge to self-preservation and the call of
|
||
duty. And I had to go through that conflict too. As Death sought its
|
||
prey everywhere and unrelentingly a nameless Something rebelled within
|
||
the weak body and tried to introduce itself under the name of Common
|
||
Sense; but in reality it was Fear, which had taken on this cloak in
|
||
order to impose itself on the individual. But the more the voice which
|
||
advised prudence increased its efforts and the more clear and persuasive
|
||
became its appeal, resistance became all the stronger; until finally the
|
||
internal strife was over and the call of duty was triumphant. Already in
|
||
the winter of 1915-16 I had come through that inner struggle. The will
|
||
had asserted its incontestable mastery. Whereas in the early days I went
|
||
into the fight with a cheer and a laugh, I was now habitually calm and
|
||
resolute. And that frame of mind endured. Fate might now put me through
|
||
the final test without my nerves or reason giving way. The young
|
||
volunteer had become an old soldier.
|
||
|
||
This same transformation took place throughout the whole army. Constant
|
||
fighting had aged and toughened it and hardened it, so that it stood
|
||
firm and dauntless against every assault.
|
||
|
||
Only now was it possible to judge that army. After two and three years
|
||
of continuous fighting, having been thrown into one battle after
|
||
another, standing up stoutly against superior numbers and superior
|
||
armament, suffering hunger and privation, the time had come when one
|
||
could assess the value of that singular fighting force.
|
||
|
||
For a thousand years to come nobody will dare to speak of heroism
|
||
without recalling the German Army of the World War. And then from the
|
||
dim past will emerge the immortal vision of those solid ranks of steel
|
||
helmets that never flinched and never faltered. And as long as Germans
|
||
live they will be proud to remember that these men were the sons of
|
||
their forefathers.
|
||
|
||
I was then a soldier and did not wish to meddle in politics, all the
|
||
more so because the time was inopportune. I still believe that the most
|
||
modest stable-boy of those days served his country better than the best
|
||
of, let us say, the 'parliamentary deputies'. My hatred for those
|
||
footlers was never greater than in those days when all decent men who
|
||
had anything to say said it point-blank in the enemy's face; or, failing
|
||
this, kept their mouths shut and did their duty elsewhere. I despised
|
||
those political fellows and if I had had my way I would have formed them
|
||
into a Labour Battalion and given them the opportunity of babbling
|
||
amongst themselves to their hearts' content, without offence or harm to
|
||
decent people.
|
||
|
||
In those days I cared nothing for politics; but I could not help forming
|
||
an opinion on certain manifestations which affected not only the whole
|
||
nation but also us soldiers in particular. There were two things which
|
||
caused me the greatest anxiety at that time and which I had come to
|
||
regard as detrimental to our interests.
|
||
|
||
Shortly after our first series of victories a certain section of the
|
||
Press already began to throw cold water, drip by drip, on the enthusiasm
|
||
of the public. At first this was not obvious to many people. It was done
|
||
under the mask of good intentions and a spirit of anxious care. The
|
||
public was told that big celebrations of victories were somewhat out of
|
||
place and were not worthy expressions of the spirit of a great nation.
|
||
The fortitude and valour of German soldiers were accepted facts which
|
||
did not necessarily call for outbursts of celebration. Furthermore, it
|
||
was asked, what would foreign opinion have to say about these
|
||
manifestations? Would not foreign opinion react more favourably to a
|
||
quiet and sober form of celebration rather than to all this wild
|
||
jubilation? Surely the time had come--so the Press declared--for us
|
||
Germans to remember that this war was not our work and that hence there
|
||
need be no feeling of shame in declaring our willingness to do our share
|
||
towards effecting an understanding among the nations. For this reason it
|
||
would not be wise to sully the radiant deeds of our army with unbecoming
|
||
jubilation; for the rest of the world would never understand this.
|
||
Furthermore, nothing is more appreciated than the modesty with which a
|
||
true hero quietly and unassumingly carries on and forgets. Such was the
|
||
gist of their warning.
|
||
|
||
Instead of catching these fellows by their long ears and dragging them
|
||
to some ditch and looping a cord around their necks, so that the
|
||
victorious enthusiasm of the nation should no longer offend the
|
||
aesthetic sensibilities of these knights of the pen, a general Press
|
||
campaign was now allowed to go on against what was called 'unbecoming'
|
||
and 'undignified' forms of victorious celebration.
|
||
|
||
No one seemed to have the faintest idea that when public enthusiasm is
|
||
once damped, nothing can enkindle it again, when the necessity arises.
|
||
This enthusiasm is an intoxication and must be kept up in that form.
|
||
Without the support of this enthusiastic spirit how would it be possible
|
||
to endure in a struggle which, according to human standards, made such
|
||
immense demands on the spiritual stamina of the nation?
|
||
|
||
I was only too well acquainted with the psychology of the broad masses
|
||
not to know that in such cases a magnaminous 'aestheticism' cannot fan
|
||
the fire which is needed to keep the iron hot. In my eyes it was even a
|
||
mistake not to have tried to raise the pitch of public enthusiasm still
|
||
higher. Therefore I could not at all understand why the contrary policy
|
||
was adopted, that is to say, the policy of damping the public spirit.
|
||
|
||
Another thing which irritated me was the manner in which Marxism was
|
||
regarded and accepted. I thought that all this proved how little they
|
||
knew about the Marxist plague. It was believed in all seriousness that
|
||
the abolition of party distinctions during the War had made Marxism a
|
||
mild and moderate thing.
|
||
|
||
But here there was no question of party. There was question of a
|
||
doctrine which was being expounded for the express purpose of leading
|
||
humanity to its destruction. The purport of this doctrine was not
|
||
understood because nothing was said about that side of the question in
|
||
our Jew-ridden universities and because our supercilious bureaucratic
|
||
officials did not think it worth while to read up a subject which had
|
||
not been prescribed in their university course. This mighty
|
||
revolutionary trend was going on beside them; but those 'intellectuals'
|
||
would not deign to give it their attention. That is why State enterprise
|
||
nearly always lags behind private enterprise. Of these gentry once can
|
||
truly say that their maxim is: What we don't know won't bother us. In
|
||
the August of 1914 the German worker was looked upon as an adherent of
|
||
Marxist socialism. That was a gross error. When those fateful hours
|
||
dawned the German worker shook off the poisonous clutches of that
|
||
plague; otherwise he would not have been so willing and ready to fight.
|
||
And people were stupid enough to imagine that Marxism had now become
|
||
'national', another apt illustration of the fact that those in authority
|
||
had never taken the trouble to study the real tenor of the Marxist
|
||
teaching. If they had done so, such foolish errors would not have been
|
||
committed.
|
||
|
||
Marxism, whose final objective was and is and will continue to be the
|
||
destruction of all non-Jewish national States, had to witness in those
|
||
days of July 1914 how the German working classes, which it had been
|
||
inveigling, were aroused by the national spirit and rapidly ranged
|
||
themselves on the side of the Fatherland. Within a few days the
|
||
deceptive smoke-screen of that infamous national betrayal had vanished
|
||
into thin air and the Jewish bosses suddenly found themselves alone and
|
||
deserted. It was as if not a vestige had been left of that folly and
|
||
madness with which the masses of the German people had been inoculated
|
||
for sixty years. That was indeed an evil day for the betrayers of German
|
||
Labour. The moment, however, that the leaders realized the danger which
|
||
threatened them they pulled the magic cap of deceit over their ears and,
|
||
without being identified, played the part of mimes in the national
|
||
reawakening.
|
||
|
||
The time seemed to have arrived for proceeding against the whole Jewish
|
||
gang of public pests. Then it was that action should have been taken
|
||
regardless of any consequent whining or protestation. At one stroke, in
|
||
the August of 1914, all the empty nonsense about international
|
||
solidarity was knocked out of the heads of the German working classes. A
|
||
few weeks later, instead of this stupid talk sounding in their ears,
|
||
they heard the noise of American-manufactured shrapnel bursting above
|
||
the heads of the marching columns, as a symbol of international
|
||
comradeship. Now that the German worker had rediscovered the road to
|
||
nationhood, it ought to have been the duty of any Government which had
|
||
the care of the people in its keeping, to take this opportunity of
|
||
mercilessly rooting out everything that was opposed to the national
|
||
spirit.
|
||
|
||
While the flower of the nation's manhood was dying at the front, there
|
||
was time enough at home at least to exterminate this vermin. But,
|
||
instead of doing so, His Majesty the Kaiser held out his hand to these
|
||
hoary criminals, thus assuring them his protection and allowing them to
|
||
regain their mental composure.
|
||
|
||
And so the viper could begin his work again. This time, however, more
|
||
carefully than before, but still more destructively. While honest people
|
||
dreamt of reconciliation these perjured criminals were making
|
||
preparations for a revolution.
|
||
|
||
Naturally I was distressed at the half-measures which were adopted at
|
||
that time; but I never thought it possible that the final consequences
|
||
could have been so disastrous?
|
||
|
||
But what should have been done then? Throw the ringleaders into gaol,
|
||
prosecute them and rid the nation of them? Uncompromising military
|
||
measures should have been adopted to root out the evil. Parties should
|
||
have been abolished and the Reichstag brought to its senses at the point
|
||
of the bayonet, if necessary. It would have been still better if the
|
||
Reichstag had been dissolved immediately. Just as the Republic to-day
|
||
dissolves the parties when it wants to, so in those days there was even
|
||
more justification for applying that measure, seeing that the very
|
||
existence of the nation was at stake. Of course this suggestion would
|
||
give rise to the question: Is it possible to eradicate ideas by force of
|
||
arms? Could a WELTANSCHAUUNG be attacked by means of physical force?
|
||
|
||
At that time I turned these questions over and over again in my mind. By
|
||
studying analogous cases, exemplified in history, particularly those
|
||
which had arisen from religious circumstances, I came to the following
|
||
fundamental conclusion:
|
||
|
||
Ideas and philosophical systems as well as movements grounded on a
|
||
definite spiritual foundation, whether true or not, can never be broken
|
||
by the use of force after a certain stage, except on one condition:
|
||
namely, that this use of force is in the service of a new idea or
|
||
WELTANSCHAUUNG which burns with a new flame.
|
||
|
||
The application of force alone, without moral support based on a
|
||
spiritual concept, can never bring about the destruction of an idea or
|
||
arrest the propagation of it, unless one is ready and able ruthlessly to
|
||
exterminate the last upholders of that idea even to a man, and also wipe
|
||
out any tradition which it may tend to leave behind. Now in the majority
|
||
of cases the result of such a course has been to exclude such a State,
|
||
either temporarily or for ever, from the comity of States that are of
|
||
political significance; but experience has also shown that such a
|
||
sanguinary method of extirpation arouses the better section of the
|
||
population under the persecuting power. As a matter of fact, every
|
||
persecution which has no spiritual motives to support it is morally
|
||
unjust and raises opposition among the best elements of the population;
|
||
so much so that these are driven more and more to champion the ideas
|
||
that are unjustly persecuted. With many individuals this arises from the
|
||
sheer spirit of opposition to every attempt at suppressing spiritual
|
||
things by brute force.
|
||
|
||
In this way the number of convinced adherents of the persecuted doctrine
|
||
increases as the persecution progresses. Hence the total destruction of
|
||
a new doctrine can be accomplished only by a vast plan of extermination;
|
||
but this, in the final analysis, means the loss of some of the best
|
||
blood in a nation or State. And that blood is then avenged, because such
|
||
an internal and total clean-up brings about the collapse of the nation's
|
||
strength. And such a procedure is always condemned to futility from the
|
||
very start if the attacked doctrine should happen to have spread beyond
|
||
a small circle.
|
||
|
||
That is why in this case, as with all other growths, the doctrine can be
|
||
exterminated in its earliest stages. As time goes on its powers of
|
||
resistance increase, until at the approach of age it gives way to
|
||
younger elements, but under another form and from other motives.
|
||
|
||
The fact remains that nearly all attempts to exterminate a doctrine,
|
||
without having some spiritual basis of attack against it, and also to
|
||
wipe out all the organizations it has created, have led in many cases to
|
||
the very opposite being achieved; and that for the following reasons:
|
||
|
||
When sheer force is used to combat the spread of a doctrine, then that
|
||
force must be employed systematically and persistently. This means that
|
||
the chances of success in the suppression of a doctrine lie only in the
|
||
persistent and uniform application of the methods chosen. The moment
|
||
hesitation is shown, and periods of tolerance alternate with the
|
||
application of force, the doctrine against which these measures are
|
||
directed will not only recover strength but every successive persecution
|
||
will bring to its support new adherents who have been shocked by the
|
||
oppressive methods employed. The old adherents will become more
|
||
embittered and their allegiance will thereby be strengthened. Therefore
|
||
when force is employed success is dependent on the consistent manner in
|
||
which it is used. This persistence, however, is nothing less than the
|
||
product of definite spiritual convictions. Every form of force that is
|
||
not supported by a spiritual backing will be always indecisive and
|
||
uncertain. Such a force lacks the stability that can be found only in a
|
||
WELTANSCHAUUNG which has devoted champions. Such a force is the
|
||
expression of the individual energies; therefore it is from time to time
|
||
dependent on the change of persons in whose hands it is employed and
|
||
also on their characters and capacities.
|
||
|
||
But there is something else to be said: Every WELTANSCHAUUNG, whether
|
||
religious or political--and it is sometimes difficult to say where the
|
||
one ends and the other begins--fights not so much for the negative
|
||
destruction of the opposing world of ideas as for the positive
|
||
realization of its own ideas. Thus its struggle lies in attack rather
|
||
than in defence. It has the advantage of knowing where its objective
|
||
lies, as this objective represents the realization of its own ideas.
|
||
Inversely, it is difficult to say when the negative aim for the
|
||
destruction of a hostile doctrine is reached and secured. For this
|
||
reason alone a WELTANSCHAUUNG which is of an aggressive character is
|
||
more definite in plan and more powerful and decisive in action than a
|
||
WELTANSCHAUUNG which takes up a merely defensive attitude. If force be
|
||
used to combat a spiritual power, that force remains a defensive measure
|
||
only so long as the wielders of it are not the standard-bearers and
|
||
apostles of a new spiritual doctrine.
|
||
|
||
To sum up, the following must be borne in mind: That every attempt to
|
||
combat a WELTANSCHAUUNG by means of force will turn out futile in the
|
||
end if the struggle fails to take the form of an offensive for the
|
||
establishment of an entirely new spiritual order of' things. It is only
|
||
in the struggle between two Weltan-schauungen that physical force,
|
||
consistently and ruthlessly applied, will eventually turn the scales in
|
||
its own favour. It was here that the fight against Marxism had hitherto
|
||
failed.
|
||
|
||
This was also the reason why Bismarck's anti-socialist legislation
|
||
failed and was bound to fail in the long run, despite everything. It
|
||
lacked the basis of a new WELTANSCHAUUNG for whose development and
|
||
extension the struggle might have been taken up. To say that the serving
|
||
up of drivel about a so-called 'State-Authority' or 'Law-and-Order' was
|
||
an adequate foundation for the spiritual driving force in a
|
||
life-or-death struggle is only what one would expect to hear from the
|
||
wiseacres in high official positions.
|
||
|
||
It was because there were no adequate spiritual motives back of this
|
||
offensive that Bismarck was compelled to hand over the administration of
|
||
his socialist legislative measures to the judgment and approval of those
|
||
circles which were themselves the product of the Marxist teaching. Thus
|
||
a very ludicrous state of affairs prevailed when the Iron Chancellor
|
||
surrendered the fate of his struggle against Marxism to the goodwill of
|
||
the bourgeois democracy. He left the goat to take care of the garden.
|
||
But this was only the necessary result of the failure to find a
|
||
fundamentally new WELTANSCHAUUNG which would attract devoted champions
|
||
to its cause and could be established on the ground from which Marxism
|
||
had been driven out. And thus the result of the Bismarckian campaign was
|
||
deplorable.
|
||
|
||
During the World War, or at the beginning of it, were the conditions any
|
||
different? Unfortunately, they were not.
|
||
|
||
The more I then pondered over the necessity for a change in the attitude
|
||
of the executive government towards Social-Democracy, as the
|
||
incorporation of contemporary Marxism, the more I realized the want of a
|
||
practical substitute for this doctrine. Supposing Social-Democracy were
|
||
overthrown, what had one to offer the masses in its stead? Not a single
|
||
movement existed which promised any success in attracting vast numbers
|
||
of workers who would be now more or less without leaders, and holding
|
||
these workers in its train. It is nonsensical to imagine that the
|
||
international fanatic who has just severed his connection with a class
|
||
party would forthwith join a bourgeois party, or, in other words,
|
||
another class organization. For however unsatisfactory these various
|
||
organizations may appear to be, it cannot be denied that bourgeois
|
||
politicians look on the distinction between classes as a very important
|
||
factor in social life, provided it does not turn out politically
|
||
disadvantageous to them. If they deny this fact they show themselves not
|
||
only impudent but also mendacious.
|
||
|
||
Generally speaking, one should guard against considering the broad
|
||
masses more stupid than they really are. In political matters it
|
||
frequently happens that feeling judges more correctly than intellect.
|
||
But the opinion that this feeling on the part of the masses is
|
||
sufficient proof of their stupid international attitude can be
|
||
immediately and definitely refuted by the simple fact that pacifist
|
||
democracy is no less fatuous, though it draws its supporters almost
|
||
exclusively from bourgeois circles. As long as millions of citizens
|
||
daily gulp down what the social-democratic Press tells them, it ill
|
||
becomes the 'Masters' to joke at the expense of the 'Comrades'; for in
|
||
the long run they all swallow the same hash, even though it be dished up
|
||
with different spices. In both cases the cook is one and the same--the
|
||
Jew.
|
||
|
||
One should be careful about contradicting established facts. It is an
|
||
undeniable fact that the class question has nothing to do with questions
|
||
concerning ideals, though that dope is administered at election time.
|
||
Class arrogance among a large section of our people, as well as a
|
||
prevailing tendency to look down on the manual labourer, are obvious
|
||
facts and not the fancies of some day-dreamer. Nevertheless it only
|
||
illustrates the mentality of our so-called intellectual circles, that
|
||
they have not yet grasped the fact that circumstances which are
|
||
incapable of preventing the growth of such a plague as Marxism are
|
||
certainly not capable of restoring what has been lost.
|
||
|
||
The bourgeois' parties--a name coined by themselves--will never again be
|
||
able to win over and hold the proletarian masses in their train. That is
|
||
because two worlds stand opposed to one another here, in part naturally
|
||
and in part artificially divided. These two camps have one leading
|
||
thought, and that is that they must fight one another. But in such a
|
||
fight the younger will come off victorious; and that is Marxism.
|
||
|
||
In 1914 a fight against Social-Democracy was indeed quite conceivable.
|
||
But the lack of any practical substitute made it doubtful how long the
|
||
fight could be kept up. In this respect there was a gaping void.
|
||
|
||
Long before the War I was of the same opinion and that was the reason
|
||
why I could not decide to join any of the parties then existing. During
|
||
the course of the World War my conviction was still further confirmed by
|
||
the manifest impossibility of fighting Social-Democracy in anything like
|
||
a thorough way: because for that purpose there should have been a
|
||
movement that was something more than a mere 'parliamentary' party, and
|
||
there was none such.
|
||
|
||
I frequently discussed that want with my intimate comrades. And it was
|
||
then that I first conceived the idea of taking up political work later
|
||
on. As I have often assured my friends, it was just this that induced me
|
||
to become active on the public hustings after the War, in addition to my
|
||
professional work. And I am sure that this decision was arrived at after
|
||
much earnest thought.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
CHAPTER VI
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
WAR PROPAGANDA
|
||
|
||
|
||
In watching the course of political events I was always struck by the
|
||
active part which propaganda played in them. I saw that it was an
|
||
instrument, which the Marxist Socialists knew how to handle in a
|
||
masterly way and how to put it to practical uses. Thus I soon came to
|
||
realize that the right use of propaganda was an art in itself and that
|
||
this art was practically unknown to our bourgeois parties. The
|
||
Christian-Socialist Party alone, especially in Lueger's time, showed a
|
||
certain efficiency in the employment of this instrument and owed much of
|
||
their success to it.
|
||
|
||
It was during the War, however, that we had the best chance of
|
||
estimating the tremendous results which could be obtained by a
|
||
propagandist system properly carried out. Here again, unfortunately,
|
||
everything was left to the other side, the work done on our side being
|
||
worse than insignificant. It was the total failure of the whole German
|
||
system of information--a failure which was perfectly obvious to every
|
||
soldier--that urged me to consider the problem of propaganda in a
|
||
comprehensive way. I had ample opportunity to learn a practical lesson
|
||
in this matter; for unfortunately it was only too well taught us by the
|
||
enemy. The lack on our side was exploited by the enemy in such an
|
||
efficient manner that one could say it showed itself as a real work of
|
||
genius. In that propaganda carried on by the enemy I found admirable
|
||
sources of instruction. The lesson to be learned from this had
|
||
unfortunately no attraction for the geniuses on our own side. They were
|
||
simply above all such things, too clever to accept any teaching. Anyhow
|
||
they did not honestly wish to learn anything.
|
||
|
||
Had we any propaganda at all? Alas, I can reply only in the negative.
|
||
All that was undertaken in this direction was so utterly inadequate and
|
||
misconceived from the very beginning that not only did it prove useless
|
||
but at times harmful. In substance it was insufficient. Psychologically
|
||
it was all wrong. Anybody who had carefully investigated the German
|
||
propaganda must have formed that judgment of it. Our people did not seem
|
||
to be clear even about the primary question itself: Whether propaganda
|
||
is a means or an end?
|
||
|
||
Propaganda is a means and must, therefore, be judged in relation to the
|
||
end it is intended to serve. It must be organized in such a way as to be
|
||
capable of attaining its objective. And, as it is quite clear that the
|
||
importance of the objective may vary from the standpoint of general
|
||
necessity, the essential internal character of the propaganda must vary
|
||
accordingly. The cause for which we fought during the War was the
|
||
noblest and highest that man could strive for. We were fighting for the
|
||
freedom and independence of our country, for the security of our future
|
||
welfare and the honour of the nation. Despite all views to the contrary,
|
||
this honour does actually exist, or rather it will have to exist; for a
|
||
nation without honour will sooner or later lose its freedom and
|
||
independence. This is in accordance with the ruling of a higher justice,
|
||
for a generation of poltroons is not entitled to freedom. He who would
|
||
be a slave cannot have honour; for such honour would soon become an
|
||
object of general scorn.
|
||
|
||
Germany was waging war for its very existence. The purpose of its war
|
||
propaganda should have been to strengthen the fighting spirit in that
|
||
struggle and help it to victory.
|
||
|
||
But when nations are fighting for their existence on this earth, when
|
||
the question of 'to be or not to be' has to be answered, then all humane
|
||
and aesthetic considerations must be set aside; for these ideals do not
|
||
exist of themselves somewhere in the air but are the product of man's
|
||
creative imagination and disappear when he disappears. Nature knows
|
||
nothing of them. Moreover, they are characteristic of only a small
|
||
number of nations, or rather of races, and their value depends on the
|
||
measure in which they spring from the racial feeling of the latter.
|
||
Humane and aesthetic ideals will disappear from the inhabited earth when
|
||
those races disappear which are the creators and standard-bearers of
|
||
them.
|
||
|
||
All such ideals are only of secondary importance when a nation is
|
||
struggling for its existence. They must be prevented from entering into
|
||
the struggle the moment they threaten to weaken the stamina of the
|
||
nation that is waging war. That is always the only visible effect
|
||
whereby their place in the struggle is to be judged.
|
||
|
||
In regard to the part played by humane feeling, Moltke stated that in
|
||
time of war the essential thing is to get a decision as quickly as
|
||
possible and that the most ruthless methods of fighting are at the same
|
||
time the most humane. When people attempt to answer this reasoning by
|
||
highfalutin talk about aesthetics, etc., only one answer can be given. It
|
||
is that the vital questions involved in the struggle of a nation for its
|
||
existence must not be subordinated to any aesthetic considerations. The
|
||
yoke of slavery is and always will remain the most unpleasant experience
|
||
that mankind can endure. Do the Schwabing (Note 12) decadents look upon
|
||
Germany's lot to-day as 'aesthetic'? Of course, one doesn't discuss such
|
||
a question with the Jews, because they are the modern inventors of this
|
||
cultural perfume. Their very existence is an incarnate denial of the
|
||
beauty of God's image in His creation.
|
||
|
||
[Note 12. Schwabing is the artistic quarter in Munich where artists have
|
||
their studios and litterateurs, especially of the Bohemian class,
|
||
foregather.]
|
||
|
||
Since these ideas of what is beautiful and humane have no place in
|
||
warfare, they are not to be used as standards of war propaganda.
|
||
|
||
During the War, propaganda was a means to an end. And this end was the
|
||
struggle for existence of the German nation. Propaganda, therefore,
|
||
should have been regarded from the standpoint of its utility for that
|
||
purpose. The most cruel weapons were then the most humane, provided they
|
||
helped towards a speedier decision; and only those methods were good and
|
||
beautiful which helped towards securing the dignity and freedom of the
|
||
nation. Such was the only possible attitude to adopt towards war
|
||
propaganda in the life-or-death struggle.
|
||
|
||
If those in what are called positions of authority had realized this
|
||
there would have been no uncertainty about the form and employment of
|
||
war propaganda as a weapon; for it is nothing but a weapon, and indeed a
|
||
most terrifying weapon in the hands of those who know how to use it.
|
||
|
||
The second question of decisive importance is this: To whom should
|
||
propaganda be made to appeal? To the educated intellectual classes? Or
|
||
to the less intellectual?
|
||
|
||
Propaganda must always address itself to the broad masses of the people.
|
||
For the intellectual classes, or what are called the intellectual
|
||
classes to-day, propaganda is not suited, but only scientific
|
||
exposition. Propaganda has as little to do with science as an
|
||
advertisement poster has to do with art, as far as concerns the form in
|
||
which it presents its message. The art of the advertisement poster
|
||
consists in the ability of the designer to attract the attention of the
|
||
crowd through the form and colours he chooses. The advertisement poster
|
||
announcing an exhibition of art has no other aim than to convince the
|
||
public of the importance of the exhibition. The better it does that, the
|
||
better is the art of the poster as such. Being meant accordingly to
|
||
impress upon the public the meaning of the exposition, the poster can
|
||
never take the place of the artistic objects displayed in the exposition
|
||
hall. They are something entirely different. Therefore. those who wish
|
||
to study the artistic display must study something that is quite
|
||
different from the poster; indeed for that purpose a mere wandering
|
||
through the exhibition galleries is of no use. The student of art must
|
||
carefully and thoroughly study each exhibit in order slowly to form a
|
||
judicious opinion about it.
|
||
|
||
The situation is the same in regard to what we understand by the word,
|
||
propaganda. The purpose of propaganda is not the personal instruction of
|
||
the individual, but rather to attract public attention to certain
|
||
things, the importance of which can be brought home to the masses only
|
||
by this means.
|
||
|
||
Here the art of propaganda consists in putting a matter so clearly and
|
||
forcibly before the minds of the people as to create a general
|
||
conviction regarding the reality of a certain fact, the necessity of
|
||
certain things and the just character of something that is essential.
|
||
But as this art is not an end in itself and because its purpose must be
|
||
exactly that of the advertisement poster, to attract the attention of
|
||
the masses and not by any means to dispense individual instructions to
|
||
those who already have an educated opinion on things or who wish to form
|
||
such an opinion on grounds of objective study--because that is not the
|
||
purpose of propaganda, it must appeal to the feelings of the public
|
||
rather than to their reasoning powers.
|
||
|
||
All propaganda must be presented in a popular form and must fix its
|
||
intellectual level so as not to be above the heads of the least
|
||
intellectual of those to whom it is directed. Thus its purely
|
||
intellectual level will have to be that of the lowest mental common
|
||
denominator among the public it is desired to reach. When there is
|
||
question of bringing a whole nation within the circle of its influence,
|
||
as happens in the case of war propaganda, then too much attention cannot
|
||
be paid to the necessity of avoiding a high level, which presupposes a
|
||
relatively high degree of intelligence among the public.
|
||
|
||
The more modest the scientific tenor of this propaganda and the more it
|
||
is addressed exclusively to public sentiment, the more decisive will be
|
||
its success. This is the best test of the value of a propaganda, and not
|
||
the approbation of a small group of intellectuals or artistic people.
|
||
|
||
The art of propaganda consists precisely in being able to awaken the
|
||
imagination of the public through an appeal to their feelings, in
|
||
finding the appropriate psychological form that will arrest the
|
||
attention and appeal to the hearts of the national masses. That this is
|
||
not understood by those among us whose wits are supposed to have been
|
||
sharpened to the highest pitch is only another proof of their vanity or
|
||
mental inertia.
|
||
|
||
Once we have understood how necessary it is to concentrate the
|
||
persuasive forces of propaganda on the broad masses of the people, the
|
||
following lessons result therefrom:
|
||
|
||
That it is a mistake to organize the direct propaganda as if it were a
|
||
manifold system of scientific instruction.
|
||
|
||
The receptive powers of the masses are very restricted, and their
|
||
understanding is feeble. On the other hand, they quickly forget. Such
|
||
being the case, all effective propaganda must be confined to a few bare
|
||
essentials and those must be expressed as far as possible in stereotyped
|
||
formulas. These slogans should be persistently repeated until the very
|
||
last individual has come to grasp the idea that has been put forward. If
|
||
this principle be forgotten and if an attempt be made to be abstract and
|
||
general, the propaganda will turn out ineffective; for the public will
|
||
not be able to digest or retain what is offered to them in this way.
|
||
Therefore, the greater the scope of the message that has to be
|
||
presented, the more necessary it is for the propaganda to discover that
|
||
plan of action which is psychologically the most efficient.
|
||
|
||
It was, for example, a fundamental mistake to ridicule the worth of the
|
||
enemy as the Austrian and German comic papers made a chief point of
|
||
doing in their propaganda. The very principle here is a mistaken one;
|
||
for, when they came face to face with the enemy, our soldiers had quite
|
||
a different impression. Therefore, the mistake had disastrous results.
|
||
Once the German soldier realised what a tough enemy he had to fight he
|
||
felt that he had been deceived by the manufacturers of the information
|
||
which had been given him. Therefore, instead of strengthening and
|
||
stimulating his fighting spirit, this information had quite the contrary
|
||
effect. Finally he lost heart.
|
||
|
||
On the other hand, British and American war propaganda was
|
||
psychologically efficient. By picturing the Germans to their own people
|
||
as Barbarians and Huns, they were preparing their soldiers for the
|
||
horrors of war and safeguarding them against illusions. The most
|
||
terrific weapons which those soldiers encountered in the field merely
|
||
confirmed the information that they had already received and their
|
||
belief in the truth of the assertions made by their respective
|
||
governments was accordingly reinforced. Thus their rage and hatred
|
||
against the infamous foe was increased. The terrible havoc caused by the
|
||
German weapons of war was only another illustration of the Hunnish
|
||
brutality of those barbarians; whereas on the side of the Entente no
|
||
time was left the soldiers to meditate on the similar havoc which their
|
||
own weapons were capable of. Thus the British soldier was never allowed
|
||
to feel that the information which he received at home was untrue.
|
||
Unfortunately the opposite was the case with the Germans, who finally
|
||
wound up by rejecting everything from home as pure swindle and humbug.
|
||
This result was made possible because at home they thought that the work
|
||
of propaganda could be entrusted to the first ass that came along,
|
||
braying of his own special talents, and they had no conception of the
|
||
fact that propaganda demands the most skilled brains that can be found.
|
||
|
||
Thus the German war propaganda afforded us an incomparable example of
|
||
how the work of 'enlightenment' should not be done and how such an
|
||
example was the result of an entire failure to take any psychological
|
||
considerations whatsoever into account.
|
||
|
||
From the enemy, however, a fund of valuable knowledge could be gained by
|
||
those who kept their eyes open, whose powers of perception had not yet
|
||
become sclerotic, and who during four-and-a-half years had to experience
|
||
the perpetual flood of enemy propaganda.
|
||
|
||
The worst of all was that our people did not understand the very first
|
||
condition which has to be fulfilled in every kind of propaganda; namely,
|
||
a systematically one-sided attitude towards every problem that has to be
|
||
dealt with. In this regard so many errors were committed, even from the
|
||
very beginning of the war, that it was justifiable to doubt whether so
|
||
much folly could be attributed solely to the stupidity of people in
|
||
higher quarters.
|
||
|
||
What, for example, should we say of a poster which purported to
|
||
advertise some new brand of soap by insisting on the excellent qualities
|
||
of the competitive brands? We should naturally shake our heads. And it
|
||
ought to be just the same in a similar kind of political advertisement.
|
||
The aim of propaganda is not to try to pass judgment on conflicting
|
||
rights, giving each its due, but exclusively to emphasize the right
|
||
which we are asserting. Propaganda must not investigate the truth
|
||
objectively and, in so far as it is favourable to the other side,
|
||
present it according to the theoretical rules of justice; yet it must
|
||
present only that aspect of the truth which is favourable to its own
|
||
side.
|
||
|
||
It was a fundamental mistake to discuss the question of who was
|
||
responsible for the outbreak of the war and declare that the sole
|
||
responsibility could not be attributed to Germany. The sole
|
||
responsibility should have been laid on the shoulders of the enemy,
|
||
without any discussion whatsoever.
|
||
|
||
And what was the consequence of these half-measures? The broad masses of
|
||
the people are not made up of diplomats or professors of public
|
||
jurisprudence nor simply of persons who are able to form reasoned
|
||
judgment in given cases, but a vacillating crowd of human children who
|
||
are constantly wavering between one idea and another. As soon as our own
|
||
propaganda made the slightest suggestion that the enemy had a certain
|
||
amount of justice on his side, then we laid down the basis on which the
|
||
justice of our own cause could be questioned. The masses are not in a
|
||
position to discern where the enemy's fault ends and where our own
|
||
begins. In such a case they become hesitant and distrustful, especially
|
||
when the enemy does not make the same mistake but heaps all the blame on
|
||
his adversary. Could there be any clearer proof of this than the fact
|
||
that finally our own people believed what was said by the enemy's
|
||
propaganda, which was uniform and consistent in its assertions, rather
|
||
than what our own propaganda said? And that, of course, was increased by
|
||
the mania for objectivity which addicts our people. Everybody began to
|
||
be careful about doing an injustice to the enemy, even at the cost of
|
||
seriously injuring, and even ruining his own people and State.
|
||
|
||
Naturally the masses were not conscious of the fact that those in
|
||
authority had failed to study the subject from this angle.
|
||
|
||
The great majority of a nation is so feminine in its character and
|
||
outlook that its thought and conduct are ruled by sentiment rather than
|
||
by sober reasoning. This sentiment, however, is not complex, but simple
|
||
and consistent. It is not highly differentiated, but has only the
|
||
negative and positive notions of love and hatred, right and wrong, truth
|
||
and falsehood. Its notions are never partly this and partly that.
|
||
English propaganda especially understood this in a marvellous way and
|
||
put what they understood into practice. They allowed no half-measures
|
||
which might have given rise to some doubt.
|
||
|
||
Proof of how brilliantly they understood that the feeling of the masses
|
||
is something primitive was shown in their policy of publishing tales of
|
||
horror and outrages which fitted in with the real horrors of the time,
|
||
thereby cleverly and ruthlessly preparing the ground for moral
|
||
solidarity at the front, even in times of great defeats. Further, the
|
||
way in which they pilloried the German enemy as solely responsible for
|
||
the war--which was a brutal and absolute falsehood--and the way in which
|
||
they proclaimed his guilt was excellently calculated to reach the
|
||
masses, realizing that these are always extremist in their feelings. And
|
||
thus it was that this atrocious lie was positively believed.
|
||
|
||
The effectiveness of this kind of propaganda is well illustrated by the
|
||
fact that after four-and-a-half years, not only was the enemy still
|
||
carrying on his propagandist work, but it was already undermining the
|
||
stamina of our people at home.
|
||
|
||
That our propaganda did not achieve similar results is not to be
|
||
wondered at, because it had the germs of inefficiency lodged in its very
|
||
being by reason of its ambiguity. And because of the very nature of its
|
||
content one could not expect it to make the necessary impression on the
|
||
masses. Only our feckless 'statesmen' could have imagined that on
|
||
pacifists slops of such a kind the enthusiasm could be nourished which
|
||
is necessary to enkindle that spirit which leads men to die for their
|
||
country.
|
||
|
||
And so this product of ours was not only worthless but detrimental.
|
||
|
||
No matter what an amount of talent employed in the organization of
|
||
propaganda, it will have no result if due account is not taken of these
|
||
fundamental principles. Propaganda must be limited to a few simple
|
||
themes and these must be represented again and again. Here, as in
|
||
innumerable other cases, perseverance is the first and most important
|
||
condition of success.
|
||
|
||
Particularly in the field of propaganda, placid aesthetes and blase
|
||
intellectuals should never be allowed to take the lead. The former would
|
||
readily transform the impressive character of real propaganda into
|
||
something suitable only for literary tea parties. As to the second class
|
||
of people, one must always beware of this pest; for, in consequence of
|
||
their insensibility to normal impressions, they are constantly seeking
|
||
new excitements.
|
||
|
||
Such people grow sick and tired of everything. They always long for
|
||
change and will always be incapable of putting themselves in the
|
||
position of picturing the wants of their less callous fellow-creatures
|
||
in their immediate neighbourhood, let alone trying to understand them.
|
||
The blase intellectuals are always the first to criticize propaganda, or
|
||
rather its message, because this appears to them to be outmoded and
|
||
trivial. They are always looking for something new, always yearning for
|
||
change; and thus they become the mortal enemies of every effort that may
|
||
be made to influence the masses in an effective way. The moment the
|
||
organization and message of a propagandist movement begins to be
|
||
orientated according to their tastes it becomes incoherent and
|
||
scattered.
|
||
|
||
It is not the purpose of propaganda to create a series of alterations in
|
||
sentiment with a view to pleasing these blase gentry. Its chief function
|
||
is to convince the masses, whose slowness of understanding needs to be
|
||
given time in order that they may absorb information; and only constant
|
||
repetition will finally succeed in imprinting an idea on the memory of
|
||
the crowd.
|
||
|
||
Every change that is made in the subject of a propagandist message must
|
||
always emphasize the same conclusion. The leading slogan must of course
|
||
be illustrated in many ways and from several angles, but in the end one
|
||
must always return to the assertion of the same formula. In this way
|
||
alone can propaganda be consistent and dynamic in its effects.
|
||
|
||
Only by following these general lines and sticking to them steadfastly,
|
||
with uniform and concise emphasis, can final success be reached. Then
|
||
one will be rewarded by the surprising and almost incredible results
|
||
that such a persistent policy secures.
|
||
|
||
The success of any advertisement, whether of a business or political
|
||
nature, depends on the consistency and perseverance with which it is
|
||
employed.
|
||
|
||
In this respect also the propaganda organized by our enemies set us an
|
||
excellent example. It confined itself to a few themes, which were meant
|
||
exclusively for mass consumption, and it repeated these themes with
|
||
untiring perseverance. Once these fundamental themes and the manner of
|
||
placing them before the world were recognized as effective, they adhered
|
||
to them without the slightest alteration for the whole duration of the
|
||
War. At first all of it appeared to be idiotic in its impudent
|
||
assertiveness. Later on it was looked upon as disturbing, but finally it
|
||
was believed.
|
||
|
||
But in England they came to understand something further: namely, that
|
||
the possibility of success in the use of this spiritual weapon consists
|
||
in the mass employment of it, and that when employed in this way it
|
||
brings full returns for the large expenses incurred.
|
||
|
||
In England propaganda was regarded as a weapon of the first order,
|
||
whereas with us it represented the last hope of a livelihood for our
|
||
unemployed politicians and a snug job for shirkers of the modest hero
|
||
type.
|
||
|
||
Taken all in all, its results were negative.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
CHAPTER VII
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
THE REVOLUTION
|
||
|
||
|
||
In 1915 the enemy started his propaganda among our soldiers. From 1916
|
||
onwards it steadily became more intensive, and at the beginning of 1918
|
||
it had swollen into a storm flood. One could now judge the effects of
|
||
this proselytizing movement step by step. Gradually our soldiers began
|
||
to think just in the way the enemy wished them to think. On the German
|
||
side there was no counter-propaganda.
|
||
|
||
At that time the army authorities, under our able and resolute
|
||
Commander, were willing and ready to take up the fight in the propaganda
|
||
domain also, but unfortunately they did not have the necessary means to
|
||
carry that intention into effect. Moreover, the army authorities would
|
||
have made a psychological mistake had they undertaken this task of
|
||
mental training. To be efficacious it had come from the home front. For
|
||
only thus could it be successful among men who for nearly four years now
|
||
had been performing immortal deeds of heroism and undergoing all sorts
|
||
of privations for the sake of that home. But what were the people at
|
||
home doing? Was their failure to act merely due to unintelligence or bad
|
||
faith?
|
||
|
||
In the midsummer of 1918, after the evacuation of the southern bank of
|
||
the hearne, the German Press adopted a policy which was so woefully
|
||
inopportune, and even criminally stupid, that I used to ask myself a
|
||
question which made me more and more furious day after day: Is it really
|
||
true that we have nobody who will dare to put an end to this process of
|
||
spiritual sabotage which is being carried on among our heroic troops?
|
||
|
||
What happened in France during those days of 1914, when our armies
|
||
invaded that country and were marching in triumph from one victory to
|
||
another? What happened in Italy when their armies collapsed on the
|
||
Isonzo front? What happened in France again during the spring of 1918,
|
||
when German divisions took the main French positions by storm and heavy
|
||
long-distance artillery bombarded Paris?
|
||
|
||
How they whipped up the flagging courage of those troops who were
|
||
retreating and fanned the fires of national enthusiasm among them! How
|
||
their propaganda and their marvellous aptitude in the exercise of
|
||
mass-influence reawakened the fighting spirit in that broken front and
|
||
hammered into the heads of the soldiers a, firm belief in final victory!
|
||
|
||
Meanwhile, what were our people doing in this sphere? Nothing, or even
|
||
worse than nothing. Again and again I used to become enraged and
|
||
indignant as I read the latest papers and realized the nature of the
|
||
mass-murder they were committing: through their influence on the minds
|
||
of the people and the soldiers. More than once I was tormented by the
|
||
thought that if Providence had put the conduct of German propaganda into
|
||
my hands, instead of into the hands of those incompetent and even
|
||
criminal ignoramuses and weaklings, the outcome of the struggle might
|
||
have been different.
|
||
|
||
During those months I felt for the first time that Fate was dealing
|
||
adversely with me in keeping me on the fighting front and in a position
|
||
where any chance bullet from some nigger or other might finish me,
|
||
whereas I could have done the Fatherland a real service in another
|
||
sphere. For I was then presumptuous enough to believe that I would have
|
||
been successful in managing the propaganda business.
|
||
|
||
But I was a being without a name, one among eight millions. Hence it was
|
||
better for me to keep my mouth shut and do my duty as well as I could in
|
||
the position to which I had been assigned.
|
||
|
||
In the summer of 1915 the first enemy leaflets were dropped on our
|
||
trenches. They all told more or less the same story, with some
|
||
variations in the form of it. The story was that distress was steadily
|
||
on the increase in Germany; that the War would last indefinitely; that
|
||
the prospect of victory for us was becoming fainter day after day; that
|
||
the people at home were yearning for peace, but that 'Militarism' and
|
||
the 'Kaiser' would not permit it; that the world--which knew this very
|
||
well--was not waging war against the German people but only against the
|
||
man who was exclusively responsible, the Kaiser; that until this enemy
|
||
of world-peace was removed there could be no end to the conflict; but
|
||
that when the War was over the liberal and democratic nations would
|
||
receive the Germans as colleagues in the League for World Peace. This
|
||
would be done the moment 'Prussian Militarism' had been finally
|
||
destroyed.
|
||
|
||
To illustrate and substantiate all these statements, the leaflets very
|
||
often contained 'Letters from Home', the contents of which appeared to
|
||
confirm the enemy's propagandist message.
|
||
|
||
Generally speaking, we only laughed at all these efforts. The leaflets
|
||
were read, sent to base headquarters, then forgotten until a favourable
|
||
wind once again blew a fresh contingent into the trenches. These were
|
||
mostly dropped from aeroplanes which were used specially for that
|
||
purpose.
|
||
|
||
One feature of this propaganda was very striking. It was that in
|
||
sections where Bavarian troops were stationed every effort was made by
|
||
the enemy propagandists to stir up feeling against the Prussians,
|
||
assuring the soldiers that Prussia and Prussia alone was the guilty
|
||
party who was responsible for bringing on and continuing the War, and
|
||
that there was no hostility whatsoever towards the Bavarians; but that
|
||
there could be no possibility of coming to their assistance so long as
|
||
they continued to serve Prussian interests and helped to pull the
|
||
Prussian chestnuts out of the fire.
|
||
|
||
This persistent propaganda began to have a real influence on our
|
||
soldiers in 1915. The feeling against Prussia grew quite noticeable
|
||
among the Bavarian troops, but those in authority did nothing to
|
||
counteract it. This was something more than a mere crime of omission;
|
||
for sooner or later not only the Prussians were bound to have to atone
|
||
severely for it but the whole German nation and consequently the
|
||
Bavarians themselves also.
|
||
|
||
In this direction the enemy propaganda began to achieve undoubted
|
||
success from 1916 onwards.
|
||
|
||
In a similar way letters coming directly from home had long since been
|
||
exercising their effect. There was now no further necessity for the
|
||
enemy to broadcast such letters in leaflet form. And also against this
|
||
influence from home nothing was done except a few supremely stupid
|
||
'warnings' uttered by the executive government. The whole front was
|
||
drenched in this poison which thoughtless women at home sent out,
|
||
without suspecting for a moment that the enemy's chances of final
|
||
victory were thus strengthened or that the sufferings of their own men
|
||
at the front were thus being prolonged and rendered more severe. These
|
||
stupid letters written by German women eventually cost the lives of
|
||
hundreds of thousands of our men.
|
||
|
||
Thus in 1916 several distressing phenomena were already manifest. The
|
||
whole front was complaining and grousing, discontented over many things
|
||
and often justifiably so. While they were hungry and yet patient, and
|
||
their relatives at home were in distress, in other quarters there was
|
||
feasting and revelry. Yes; even on the front itself everything was not
|
||
as it ought to have been in this regard.
|
||
|
||
Even in the early stages of the war the soldiers were sometimes prone to
|
||
complain; but such criticism was confined to 'internal affairs'. The man
|
||
who at one moment groused and grumbled ceased his murmur after a few
|
||
moments and went about his duty silently, as if everything were in
|
||
order. The company which had given signs of discontent a moment earlier
|
||
hung on now to its bit of trench, defending it tooth and nail, as if
|
||
Germany's fate depended on these few hundred yards of mud and
|
||
shell-holes. The glorious old army was still at its post. A sudden
|
||
change in my own fortunes soon placed me in a position where I had
|
||
first-hand experience of the contrast between this old army and the home
|
||
front. At the end of September 1916 my division was sent into the Battle
|
||
of the Somme. For us this was the first of a series of heavy
|
||
engagements, and the impression created was that of a veritable inferno,
|
||
rather than war. Through weeks of incessant artillery bombardment we
|
||
stood firm, at times ceding a little ground but then taking it back
|
||
again, and never giving way. On October 7th, 1916, I was wounded but had
|
||
the luck of being able to get back to our lines and was then ordered to
|
||
be sent by ambulance train to Germany.
|
||
|
||
Two years had passed since I had left home, an almost endless period in
|
||
such circumstances. I could hardly imagine what Germans looked like
|
||
without uniforms. In the clearing hospital at Hermies I was startled
|
||
when I suddenly heard the voice of a German woman who was acting as
|
||
nursing sister and talking with one of the wounded men lying near me.
|
||
Two years! And then this voice for the first time!
|
||
|
||
The nearer our ambulance train approached the German frontier the more
|
||
restless each one of us became. En route we recognised all these places
|
||
through which we passed two years before as young volunteers--Brussels,
|
||
Louvain, Li<4C>ge--and finally we thought we recognized the first German
|
||
homestead, with its familiar high gables and picturesque
|
||
window-shutters. Home!
|
||
|
||
What a change! From the mud of the Somme battlefields to the spotless
|
||
white beds in this wonderful building. One hesitated at first before
|
||
entering them. It was only by slow stages that one could grow accustomed
|
||
to this new world again. But unfortunately there were certain other
|
||
aspects also in which this new world was different.
|
||
|
||
The spirit of the army at the front appeared to be out of place here.
|
||
For the first time I encountered something which up to then was unknown
|
||
at the front: namely, boasting of one's own cowardice. For, though we
|
||
certainly heard complaining and grousing at the front, this was never in
|
||
the spirit of any agitation to insubordination and certainly not an
|
||
attempt to glorify one's fear. No; there at the front a coward was a
|
||
coward and nothing else, And the contempt which his weakness aroused in
|
||
the others was quite general, just as the real hero was admired all
|
||
round. But here in hospital the spirit was quite different in some
|
||
respects. Loudmouthed agitators were busy here in heaping ridicule on
|
||
the good soldier and painting the weak-kneed poltroon in glorious
|
||
colours. A couple of miserable human specimens were the ringleaders in
|
||
this process of defamation. One of them boasted of having intentionally
|
||
injured his hand in barbed-wire entanglements in order to get sent to
|
||
hospital. Although his wound was only a slight one, it appeared that he
|
||
had been here for a very long time and would be here interminably. Some
|
||
arrangement for him seemed to be worked by some sort of swindle, just as
|
||
he got sent here in the ambulance train through a swindle. This
|
||
pestilential specimen actually had the audacity to parade his knavery as
|
||
the manifestation of a courage which was superior to that of the brave
|
||
soldier who dies a hero's death. There were many who heard this talk in
|
||
silence; but there were others who expressed their assent to what the
|
||
fellow said.
|
||
|
||
Personally I was disgusted at the thought that a seditious agitator of
|
||
this kind should be allowed to remain in such an institution. What could
|
||
be done? The hospital authorities here must have known who and what he
|
||
was; and actually they did know. But still they did nothing about it.
|
||
|
||
As soon as I was able to walk once again I obtained leave to visit
|
||
Berlin.
|
||
|
||
Bitter want was in evidence everywhere. The metropolis, with its teeming
|
||
millions, was suffering from hunger. The talk that was current in the
|
||
various places of refreshment and hospices visited by the soldiers was
|
||
much the same as that in our hospital. The impression given was that
|
||
these agitators purposely singled out such places in order to spread
|
||
their views.
|
||
|
||
But in Munich conditions were far worse. After my discharge from
|
||
hospital, I was sent to a reserve battalion there. I felt as in some
|
||
strange town. Anger, discontent, complaints met one's ears wherever one
|
||
went. To a certain extent this was due to the infinitely maladroit
|
||
manner in which the soldiers who had returned from the front were
|
||
treated by the non-commissioned officers who had never seen a day's
|
||
active service and who on that account were partly incapable of adopting
|
||
the proper attitude towards the old soldiers. Naturally those old
|
||
soldiers displayed certain characteristics which had been developed from
|
||
the experiences in the trenches. The officers of the reserve units could
|
||
not understand these peculiarities, whereas the officer home from active
|
||
service was at least in a position to understand them for himself. As a
|
||
result he received more respect from the men than officers at the home
|
||
headquarters. But, apart from all this, the general spirit was
|
||
deplorable. The art of shirking was looked upon as almost a proof of
|
||
higher intelligence, and devotion to duty was considered a sign of
|
||
weakness or bigotry. Government offices were staffed by Jews. Almost
|
||
every clerk was a Jew and every Jew was a clerk. I was amazed at this
|
||
multitude of combatants who belonged to the chosen people and could not
|
||
help comparing it with their slender numbers in the fighting lines.
|
||
|
||
In the business world the situation was even worse. Here the Jews had
|
||
actually become 'indispensable'. Like leeches, they were slowly sucking
|
||
the blood from the pores of the national body. By means of newly floated
|
||
War Companies an instrument had been discovered whereby all national
|
||
trade was throttled so that no business could be carried on freely
|
||
|
||
Special emphasis was laid on the necessity for unhampered
|
||
centralization. Hence as early as 1916-17 practically all production was
|
||
under the control of Jewish finance.
|
||
|
||
But against whom was the anger of the people directed? It was then that
|
||
I already saw the fateful day approaching which must finally bring the
|
||
DEBACLE, unless timely preventive measures were taken.
|
||
|
||
While Jewry was busy despoiling the nation and tightening the screws of
|
||
its despotism, the work of inciting the people against the Prussians
|
||
increased. And just as nothing was done at the front to put a stop to
|
||
the venomous propaganda, so here at home no official steps were taken
|
||
against it. Nobody seemed capable of understanding that the collapse of
|
||
Prussia could never bring about the rise of Bavaria. On the contrary,
|
||
the collapse of the one must necessarily drag the other down with it.
|
||
|
||
This kind of behaviour affected me very deeply. In it I could see only a
|
||
clever Jewish trick for diverting public attention from themselves to
|
||
others. While Prussians and Bavarians were squabbling, the Jews were
|
||
taking away the sustenance of both from under their very noses. While
|
||
Prussians were being abused in Bavaria the Jews organized the revolution
|
||
and with one stroke smashed both Prussia and Bavaria.
|
||
|
||
I could not tolerate this execrable squabbling among people of the same
|
||
German stock and preferred to be at the front once again. Therefore,
|
||
just after my arrival in Munich I reported myself for service again. At
|
||
the beginning of March 1917 I rejoined my old regiment at the front.
|
||
|
||
Towards the end of 1917 it seemed as if we had got over the worst phases
|
||
of moral depression at the front. After the Russian collapse the whole
|
||
army recovered its courage and hope, and all were gradually becoming
|
||
more and more convinced that the struggle would end in our favour. We
|
||
could sing once again. The ravens were ceasing to croak. Faith in the
|
||
future of the Fatherland was once more in the ascendant.
|
||
|
||
The Italian collapse in the autumn of 1917 had a wonderful effect; for
|
||
this victory proved that it was possible to break through another front
|
||
besides the Russian. This inspiring thought now became dominant in the
|
||
minds of millions at the front and encouraged them to look forward with
|
||
confidence to the spring of 1918. It was quite obvious that the enemy
|
||
was in a state of depression. During this winter the front was somewhat
|
||
quieter than usual. But that was the calm before the storm.
|
||
|
||
Just when preparations were being made to launch a final offensive which
|
||
would bring this seemingly eternal struggle to an end, while endless
|
||
columns of transports were bringing men and munitions to the front, and
|
||
while the men were being trained for that final onslaught, then it was
|
||
that the greatest act of treachery during the whole War was accomplished
|
||
in Germany.
|
||
|
||
Germany must not win the War. At that moment when victory seemed ready
|
||
to alight on the German standards, a conspiracy was arranged for the
|
||
purpose of striking at the heart of the German spring offensive with one
|
||
blow from the rear and thus making victory impossible. A general strike
|
||
in the munition factories was organized.
|
||
|
||
If this conspiracy could achieve its purpose the German front would have
|
||
collapsed and the wishes of the VORW<52>RTS (the organ of the
|
||
Social-Democratic Party) that this time victory should not take the side
|
||
of the German banners, would have been fulfilled. For want of munitions
|
||
the front would be broken through within a few weeks, the offensive
|
||
would be effectively stopped and the Entente saved. Then International
|
||
Finance would assume control over Germany and the internal objective of
|
||
the Marxist national betrayal would be achieved. That objective was the
|
||
destruction of the national economic system and the establishment of
|
||
international capitalistic domination in its stead. And this goal has
|
||
really been reached, thanks to the stupid credulity of the one side and
|
||
the unspeakable treachery of the other.
|
||
|
||
The munition strike, however, did not bring the final success that had
|
||
been hoped for: namely, to starve the front of ammunition. It lasted too
|
||
short a time for the lack of ammunitions as such to bring disaster to
|
||
the army, as was originally planned. But the moral damage was much more
|
||
terrible.
|
||
|
||
In the first place. what was the army fighting for if the people at home
|
||
did not wish it to be victorious? For whom then were these enormous
|
||
sacrifices and privations being made and endured? Must the soldiers
|
||
fight for victory while the home front goes on strike against it?
|
||
|
||
In the second place, what effect did this move have on the enemy?
|
||
|
||
In the winter of 1917-18 dark clouds hovered in the firmament of the
|
||
Entente. For nearly four years onslaught after onslaught has been made
|
||
against the German giant, but they failed to bring him to the ground. He
|
||
had to keep them at bay with one arm that held the defensive shield
|
||
because his other arm had to be free to wield the sword against his
|
||
enemies, now in the East and now in the South. But at last these enemies
|
||
were overcome and his rear was now free for the conflict in the West.
|
||
Rivers of blood had been shed for the accomplishment of that task; but
|
||
now the sword was free to combine in battle with the shield on the
|
||
Western Front. And since the enemy had hitherto failed to break the
|
||
German defence here, the Germans themselves had now to launch the
|
||
attack. The enemy feared and trembled before the prospect of this German
|
||
victory.
|
||
|
||
At Paris and London conferences followed one another in unending series.
|
||
Even the enemy propaganda encountered difficulties. It was no longer so
|
||
easy to demonstrate that the prospect of a German victory was hopeless.
|
||
A prudent silence reigned at the front, even among the troops of the
|
||
Entente. The insolence of their masters had suddenly subsided. A
|
||
disturbing truth began to dawn on them. Their opinion of the German
|
||
soldier had changed. Hitherto they were able to picture him as a kind of
|
||
fool whose end would be destruction; but now they found themselves face
|
||
to face with the soldier who had overcome their Russian ally. The policy
|
||
of restricting the offensive to the East, which had been imposed on the
|
||
German military authorities by the necessities of the situation, now
|
||
seemed to the Entente as a tactical stroke of genius. For three years
|
||
these Germans had been battering away at the Russian front without any
|
||
apparent success at first. Those fruitless efforts were almost sneered
|
||
at; for it was thought that in the long run the Russian giant would
|
||
triumph through sheer force of numbers. Germany would be worn out
|
||
through shedding so much blood. And facts appeared to confirm this hope.
|
||
|
||
Since the September days of 1914, when for the first time interminable
|
||
columns of Russian war prisoners poured into Germany after the Battle of
|
||
Tannenberg, it seemed as if the stream would never end but that as soon
|
||
as one army was defeated and routed another would take its place. The
|
||
supply of soldiers which the gigantic Empire placed at the disposal of
|
||
the Czar seemed inexhaustible; new victims were always at hand for the
|
||
holocaust of war. How long could Germany hold out in this competition?
|
||
Would not the day finally have to come when, after the last victory
|
||
which the Germans would achieve, there would still remain reserve armies
|
||
in Russia to be mustered for the final battle? And what then? According
|
||
to human standards a Russian victory over Germany might be delayed but
|
||
it would have to come in the long run.
|
||
|
||
All the hopes that had been based on Russia were now lost. The Ally who
|
||
had sacrificed the most blood on the altar of their mutual interests had
|
||
come to the end of his resources and lay prostrate before his
|
||
unrelenting foe. A feeling of terror and dismay came over the Entente
|
||
soldiers who had hitherto been buoyed up by blind faith. They feared the
|
||
coming spring. For, seeing that hitherto they had failed to break the
|
||
Germans when the latter could concentrate only part of the fighting
|
||
strength on the Western Front, how could they count on victory now that
|
||
the undivided forces of that amazing land of heroes appeared to be
|
||
gathered for a massed attack in the West?
|
||
|
||
The shadow of the events which had taken place in South Tyrol, the
|
||
spectre of General Cadorna's defeated armies, were reflected in the
|
||
gloomy faces of the Entente troops in Flanders. Faith in victory gave
|
||
way to fear of defeat to come.
|
||
|
||
Then, on those cold nights, when one almost heard the tread of the
|
||
German armies advancing to the great assault, and the decision was being
|
||
awaited in fear and trembling, suddenly a lurid light was set aglow in
|
||
Germany and sent its rays into the last shell-hole on the enemy's front.
|
||
At the very moment when the German divisions were receiving their final
|
||
orders for the great offensive a general strike broke out in Germany.
|
||
|
||
At first the world was dumbfounded. Then the enemy propaganda began
|
||
activities once again and pounced on this theme at the eleventh hour.
|
||
All of a sudden a means had come which could be utilized to revive the
|
||
sinking confidence of the Entente soldiers. The probabilities of victory
|
||
could now be presented as certain, and the anxious foreboding in regard
|
||
to coming events could now be transformed into a feeling of resolute
|
||
assurance. The regiments that had to bear the brunt of the Greatest
|
||
German onslaught in history could now be inspired with the conviction
|
||
that the final decision in this war would not be won by the audacity of
|
||
the German assault but rather by the powers of endurance on the side of
|
||
the defence. Let the Germans now have whatever victories they liked, the
|
||
revolution and not the victorious army was welcomed in the Fatherland.
|
||
|
||
British, French and American newspapers began to spread this belief
|
||
among their readers while a very ably managed propaganda encouraged the
|
||
morale of their troops at the front.
|
||
|
||
'Germany Facing Revolution! An Allied Victory Inevitable!' That was the
|
||
best medicine to set the staggering Poilu and Tommy on their feet once
|
||
again. Our rifles and machine-guns could now open fire once again; but
|
||
instead of effecting a panic-stricken retreat they were now met with a
|
||
determined resistance that was full of confidence.
|
||
|
||
That was the result of the strike in the munitions factories. Throughout
|
||
the enemy countries faith in victory was thus revived and strengthened,
|
||
and that paralysing feeling of despair which had hitherto made itself
|
||
felt on the Entente front was banished. Consequently the strike cost the
|
||
lives of thousands of German soldiers. But the despicable instigators of
|
||
that dastardly strike were candidates for the highest public positions
|
||
in the Germany of the Revolution.
|
||
|
||
At first it was apparently possible to overcome the repercussion of
|
||
these events on the German soldiers, but on the enemy's side they had a
|
||
lasting effect. Here the resistance had lost all the character of an
|
||
army fighting for a lost cause. In its place there was now a grim
|
||
determination to struggle through to victory. For, according to all
|
||
human rules of judgment, victory would now be assured if the Western
|
||
front could hold out against the German offensive even for only a few
|
||
months. The Allied parliaments recognized the possibilities of a better
|
||
future and voted huge sums of money for the continuation of the
|
||
propaganda which was employed for the purpose of breaking up the
|
||
internal cohesion of Germany.
|
||
|
||
It was my luck that I was able to take part in the first two offensives
|
||
and in the final offensive. These have left on me the most stupendous
|
||
impressions of my life--stupendous, because now for the last time the
|
||
struggle lost its defensive character and assumed the character of an
|
||
offensive, just as it was in 1914. A sigh of relief went up from the
|
||
German trenches and dug-outs when finally, after three years of
|
||
endurance in that inferno, the day for the settling of accounts had
|
||
come. Once again the lusty cheering of victorious battalions was heard,
|
||
as they hung the last crowns of the immortal laurel on the standards
|
||
which they consecrated to Victory. Once again the strains of patriotic
|
||
songs soared upwards to the heavens above the endless columns of
|
||
marching troops, and for the last time the Lord smiled on his ungrateful
|
||
children.
|
||
|
||
In the midsummer of 1918 a feeling of sultry oppression hung over the
|
||
front. At home they were quarrelling. About what? We heard a great deal
|
||
among various units at the front. The War was now a hopeless affair, and
|
||
only the foolhardy could think of victory. It was not the people but the
|
||
capitalists and the Monarchy who were interested in carrying on. Such
|
||
were the ideas that came from home and were discussed at the front.
|
||
|
||
At first this gave rise to only very slight reaction. What did universal
|
||
suffrage matter to us? Is this what we had been fighting for during four
|
||
years? It was a dastardly piece of robbery thus to filch from the graves
|
||
of our heroes the ideals for which they had fallen. It was not to the
|
||
slogan, 'Long Live Universal Suffrage,' that our troops in Flanders once
|
||
faced certain death but with the cry, 'DEUTSCHLAND <20>BER ALLES IN DER
|
||
WELT'. A small but by no means an unimportant difference. And the
|
||
majority of those who were shouting for this suffrage were absent when
|
||
it came to fighting for it. All this political rabble were strangers to
|
||
us at the front. During those days only a fraction of these
|
||
parliamentarian gentry were to be seen where honest Germans
|
||
foregathered.
|
||
|
||
The old soldiers who had fought at the front had little liking for those
|
||
new war aims of Messrs. Ebert, Scheidemann, Barth, Liebknecht and
|
||
others. We could not understand why, all of a sudden, the shirkers
|
||
should abrogate all executive powers to themselves, without having any
|
||
regard to the army.
|
||
|
||
From the very beginning I had my own definite personal views. I
|
||
intensely loathed the whole gang of miserable party politicians who had
|
||
betrayed the people. I had long ago realized that the interests of the
|
||
nation played only a very small part with this disreputable crew and
|
||
that what counted with them was the possibility of filling their own
|
||
empty pockets. My opinion was that those people thoroughly deserved to
|
||
be hanged, because they were ready to sacrifice the peace and if
|
||
necessary allow Germany to be defeated just to serve their own ends. To
|
||
consider their wishes would mean to sacrifice the interests of the
|
||
working classes for the benefit of a gang of thieves. To meet their
|
||
wishes meant that one should agree to sacrifice Germany.
|
||
|
||
Such, too, was the opinion still held by the majority of the army. But
|
||
the reinforcements which came from home were fast becoming worse and
|
||
worse; so much so that their arrival was a source of weakness rather
|
||
than of strength to our fighting forces. The young recruits in
|
||
particular were for the most part useless. Sometimes it was hard to
|
||
believe that they were sons of the same nation that sent its youth into
|
||
the battles that were fought round Ypres.
|
||
|
||
In August and September the symptoms of moral disintegration increased
|
||
more and more rapidly, although the enemy's offensive was not at all
|
||
comparable to the frightfulness of our own former defensive battles. In
|
||
comparison with this offensive the battles fought on the Somme and in
|
||
Flanders remained in our memories as the most terrible of all horrors.
|
||
|
||
At the end of September my division occupied, for the third time, those
|
||
positions which we had once taken by storm as young volunteers. What a
|
||
memory!
|
||
|
||
Here we had received our baptism of fire, in October and November 1914.
|
||
With a burning love of the homeland in their hearts and a song on their
|
||
lips, our young regiment went into action as if going to a dance. The
|
||
dearest blood was given freely here in the belief that it was shed to
|
||
protect the freedom and independence of the Fatherland.
|
||
|
||
In July 1917 we set foot for the second time on what we regarded as
|
||
sacred soil. Were not our best comrades at rest here, some of them
|
||
little more than boys--the soldiers who had rushed into death for their
|
||
country's sake, their eyes glowing with enthusiastic love.
|
||
|
||
The older ones among us, who had been with the regiment from the
|
||
beginning, were deeply moved as we stood on this sacred spot where we
|
||
had sworn 'Loyalty and Duty unto Death'. Three years ago the regiment
|
||
had taken this position by storm; now it was called upon to defend it in
|
||
a gruelling struggle.
|
||
|
||
With an artillery bombardment that lasted three weeks the English
|
||
prepared for their great offensive in Flanders. There the spirits of the
|
||
dead seemed to live again. The regiment dug itself into the mud, clung
|
||
to its shell-holes and craters, neither flinching nor wavering, but
|
||
growing smaller in numbers day after day. Finally the British launched
|
||
their attack on July 31st, 1917.
|
||
|
||
We were relieved in the beginning of August. The regiment had dwindled
|
||
down to a few companies, who staggered back, mud-crusted, more like
|
||
phantoms than human beings. Besides a few hundred yards of shell-holes,
|
||
death was the only reward which the English gained.
|
||
|
||
Now in the autumn of 1918 we stood for the third time on the ground we
|
||
had stormed in 1914. The village of Comines, which formerly had served
|
||
us as a base, was now within the fighting zone. Although little had
|
||
changed in the surrounding district itself, yet the men had become
|
||
different, somehow or other. They now talked politics. Like everywhere
|
||
else, the poison from home was having its effect here also. The young
|
||
drafts succumbed to it completely. They had come directly from home.
|
||
|
||
During the night of October 13th-14th, the British opened an attack with
|
||
gas on the front south of Ypres. They used the yellow gas whose effect
|
||
was unknown to us, at least from personal experience. I was destined to
|
||
experience it that very night. On a hill south of Werwick, in the
|
||
evening of October 13th, we were subjected for several hours to a heavy
|
||
bombardment with gas bombs, which continued throughout the night with
|
||
more or less intensity. About midnight a number of us were put out of
|
||
action, some for ever. Towards morning I also began to feel pain. It
|
||
increased with every quarter of an hour; and about seven o'clock my eyes
|
||
were scorching as I staggered back and delivered the last dispatch I was
|
||
destined to carry in this war. A few hours later my eyes were like
|
||
glowing coals and all was darkness around me.
|
||
|
||
I was sent into hospital at Pasewalk in Pomerania, and there it was that
|
||
I had to hear of the Revolution.
|
||
|
||
For a long time there had been something in the air which was
|
||
indefinable and repulsive. People were saying that something was bound
|
||
to happen within the next few weeks, although I could not imagine what
|
||
this meant. In the first instance I thought of a strike similar to the
|
||
one which had taken place in spring. Unfavourable rumours were
|
||
constantly coming from the Navy, which was said to be in a state of
|
||
ferment. But this seemed to be a fanciful creation of a few isolated
|
||
young people. It is true that at the hospital they were all talking abut
|
||
the end of the war and hoping that this was not far off, but nobody
|
||
thought that the decision would come immediately. I was not able to read
|
||
the newspapers.
|
||
|
||
In November the general tension increased. Then one day disaster broke
|
||
in upon us suddenly and without warning. Sailors came in motor-lorries
|
||
and called on us to rise in revolt. A few Jew-boys were the leaders in
|
||
that combat for the 'Liberty, Beauty, and Dignity' of our National
|
||
Being. Not one of them had seen active service at the front. Through the
|
||
medium of a hospital for venereal diseases these three Orientals had
|
||
been sent back home. Now their red rags were being hoisted here.
|
||
|
||
During the last few days I had begun to feel somewhat better. The
|
||
burning pain in the eye-sockets had become less severe. Gradually I was
|
||
able to distinguish the general outlines of my immediate surroundings.
|
||
And it was permissible to hope that at least I would recover my sight
|
||
sufficiently to be able to take up some profession later on. That I
|
||
would ever be able to draw or design once again was naturally out of the
|
||
question. Thus I was on the way to recovery when the frightful hour
|
||
came.
|
||
|
||
My first thought was that this outbreak of high treason was only a local
|
||
affair. I tried to enforce this belief among my comrades. My Bavarian
|
||
hospital mates, in particular, were readily responsive. Their
|
||
inclinations were anything but revolutionary. I could not imagine this
|
||
madness breaking out in Munich; for it seemed to me that loyalty to the
|
||
House of Wittelsbach was, after all, stronger than the will of a few
|
||
Jews. And so I could not help believing that this was merely a revolt in
|
||
the Navy and that it would be suppressed within the next few days.
|
||
|
||
With the next few days came the most astounding information of my life.
|
||
The rumours grew more and more persistent. I was told that what I had
|
||
considered to be a local affair was in reality a general revolution. In
|
||
addition to this, from the front came the shameful news that they wished
|
||
to capitulate! What! Was such a thing possible?
|
||
|
||
On November 10th the local pastor visited the hospital for the purpose
|
||
of delivering a short address. And that was how we came to know the
|
||
whole story.
|
||
|
||
I was in a fever of excitement as I listened to the address. The
|
||
reverend old gentleman seemed to be trembling when he informed us that
|
||
the House of Hohen-zollern should no longer wear the Imperial Crown,
|
||
that the Fatherland had become a 'Republic', that we should pray to the
|
||
Almighty not to withhold His blessing from the new order of things and
|
||
not to abandon our people in the days to come. In delivering this
|
||
message he could not do more than briefly express appreciation of the
|
||
Royal House, its services to Pomerania, to Prussia, indeed, to the whole
|
||
of the German Fatherland, and--here he began to weep. A feeling of
|
||
profound dismay fell on the people in that assembly, and I do not think
|
||
there was a single eye that withheld its tears. As for myself, I broke
|
||
down completely when the old gentleman tried to resume his story by
|
||
informing us that we must now end this long war, because the war was
|
||
lost, he said, and we were at the mercy of the victor. The Fatherland
|
||
would have to bear heavy burdens in the future. We were to accept the
|
||
terms of the Armistice and trust to the magnanimity of our former
|
||
enemies. It was impossible for me to stay and listen any longer.
|
||
Darkness surrounded me as I staggered and stumbled back to my ward and
|
||
buried my aching head between the blankets and pillow.
|
||
|
||
I had not cried since the day that I stood beside my mother's grave.
|
||
Whenever Fate dealt cruelly with me in my young days the spirit of
|
||
determination within me grew stronger and stronger. During all those
|
||
long years of war, when Death claimed many a true friend and comrade
|
||
from our ranks, to me it would have appeared sinful to have uttered a
|
||
word of complaint. Did they not die for Germany? And, finally, almost in
|
||
the last few days of that titanic struggle, when the waves of poison gas
|
||
enveloped me and began to penetrate my eyes, the thought of becoming
|
||
permanently blind unnerved me; but the voice of conscience cried out
|
||
immediately: Poor miserable fellow, will you start howling when there
|
||
are thousands of others whose lot is a hundred times worse than yours?
|
||
And so I accepted my misfortune in silence, realizing that this was the
|
||
only thing to be done and that personal suffering was nothing when
|
||
compared with the misfortune of one's country.
|
||
|
||
So all had been in vain. In vain all the sacrifices and privations, in
|
||
vain the hunger and thirst for endless months, in vain those hours that
|
||
we stuck to our posts though the fear of death gripped our souls, and in
|
||
vain the deaths of two millions who fell in discharging this duty. Think
|
||
of those hundreds of thousands who set out with hearts full of faith in
|
||
their fatherland, and never returned; ought not their graves to open, so
|
||
that the spirits of those heroes bespattered with mud and blood should
|
||
come home and take vengeance on those who had so despicably betrayed the
|
||
greatest sacrifice which a human being can make for his country? Was it
|
||
for this that the soldiers died in August and September 1914, for this
|
||
that the volunteer regiments followed the old comrades in the autumn of
|
||
the same year? Was it for this that those boys of seventeen years of age
|
||
were mingled with the earth of Flanders? Was this meant to be the fruits
|
||
of the sacrifice which German mothers made for their Fatherland when,
|
||
with heavy hearts, they said good-bye to their sons who never returned?
|
||
Has all this been done in order to enable a gang of despicable criminals
|
||
to lay hands on the Fatherland?
|
||
|
||
Was this then what the German soldier struggled for through sweltering
|
||
heat and blinding snowstorm, enduring hunger and thirst and cold,
|
||
fatigued from sleepless nights and endless marches? Was it for this that
|
||
he lived through an inferno of artillery bombardments, lay gasping and
|
||
choking during gas attacks, neither flinching nor faltering, but
|
||
remaining staunch to the thought of defending the Fatherland against the
|
||
enemy? Certainly these heroes also deserved the epitaph:
|
||
|
||
Traveller, when you come to Germany, tell the Homeland that we lie
|
||
here, true to the Fatherland and faithful to our duty. (Note 13)
|
||
|
||
[Note 13. Here again we have the defenders of Thermopylae recalled as the
|
||
prototype of German valour in the Great War. Hitler's quotation is a
|
||
German variant of the couplet inscribed on the monument erected at
|
||
Thermopylae to the memory of Leonidas and his Spartan soldiers who fell
|
||
defending the Pass. As given by Herodotus, who claims that he saw the
|
||
inscription himself, the original text may be literally translated thus:
|
||
|
||
Go, tell the Spartans, thou who passeth by,
|
||
That here, obedient to their laws, we lie.]
|
||
|
||
And at Home? But--was this the only sacrifice that we had to consider?
|
||
Was the Germany of the past a country of little worth? Did she not owe a
|
||
certain duty to her own history? Were we still worthy to partake in the
|
||
glory of the past? How could we justify this act to future generations?
|
||
|
||
What a gang of despicable and depraved criminals!
|
||
|
||
The more I tried then to glean some definite information of the terrible
|
||
events that had happened the more my head became afire with rage and
|
||
shame. What was all the pain I suffered in my eyes compared with this
|
||
tragedy?
|
||
|
||
The following days were terrible to bear, and the nights still worse. To
|
||
depend on the mercy of the enemy was a precept which only fools or
|
||
criminal liars could recommend. During those nights my hatred
|
||
increased--hatred for the orignators of this dastardly crime.
|
||
|
||
During the following days my own fate became clear to me. I was forced
|
||
now to scoff at the thought of my personal future, which hitherto had
|
||
been the cause of so much worry to me. Was it not ludicrous to think of
|
||
building up anything on such a foundation? Finally, it also became clear
|
||
to me that it was the inevitable that had happened, something which I
|
||
had feared for a long time, though I really did not have the heart to
|
||
believe it.
|
||
|
||
Emperor William II was the first German Emperor to offer the hand of
|
||
friendship to the Marxist leaders, not suspecting that they were
|
||
scoundrels without any sense of honour. While they held the imperial
|
||
hand in theirs, the other hand was already feeling for the dagger.
|
||
|
||
There is no such thing as coming to an understanding with the Jews. It
|
||
must be the hard-and-fast 'Either-Or.'
|
||
|
||
For my part I then decided that I would take up political work.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
CHAPTER VIII
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
THE BEGINNING OF MY POLITICAL ACTIVITIES
|
||
|
||
|
||
Towards the end of November I returned to Munich. I went to the depot of
|
||
my regiment, which was now in the hands of the 'Soldiers' Councils'. As
|
||
the whole administration was quite repulsive to me, I decided to leave
|
||
it as soon as I possibly could. With my faithful war-comrade,
|
||
Ernst-Schmidt, I came to Traunstein and remained there until the camp
|
||
was broken up. In March 1919 we were back again in Munich.
|
||
|
||
The situation there could not last as it was. It tended irresistibly to
|
||
a further extension of the Revolution. Eisner's death served only to
|
||
hasten this development and finally led to the dictatorship of the
|
||
Councils--or, to put it more correctly, to a Jewish hegemony, which
|
||
turned out to be transitory but which was the original aim of those who
|
||
had contrived the Revolution.
|
||
|
||
At that juncture innumerable plans took shape in my mind. I spent whole
|
||
days pondering on the problem of what could be done, but unfortunately
|
||
every project had to give way before the hard fact that I was quite
|
||
unknown and therefore did not have even the first pre-requisite
|
||
necessary for effective action. Later on I shall explain the reasons why
|
||
I could not decide to join any of the parties then in existence.
|
||
|
||
As the new Soviet Revolution began to run its course in Munich my first
|
||
activities drew upon me the ill-will of the Central Council. In the
|
||
early morning of April 27th, 1919, I was to have been arrested; but the
|
||
three fellows who came to arrest me did not have the courage to face my
|
||
rifle and withdrew just as they had arrived.
|
||
|
||
A few days after the liberation of Munich I was ordered to appear before
|
||
the Inquiry Commission which had been set up in the 2nd Infantry
|
||
Regiment for the purpose of watching revolutionary activities. That was
|
||
my first incursion into the more or less political field.
|
||
|
||
After another few weeks I received orders to attend a course of lectures
|
||
which were being given to members of the army. This course was meant to
|
||
inculcate certain fundamental principles on which the soldier could base
|
||
his political ideas. For me the advantage of this organization was that
|
||
it gave me a chance of meeting fellow soldiers who were of the same way
|
||
of thinking and with whom I could discuss the actual situation. We were
|
||
all more or less firmly convinced that Germany could not be saved from
|
||
imminent disaster by those who had participated in the November
|
||
treachery--that is to say, the Centre and the Social-Democrats; and also
|
||
that the so-called Bourgeois-National group could not make good the
|
||
damage that had been done, even if they had the best intentions. They
|
||
lacked a number of requisites without which such a task could never be
|
||
successfully undertaken. The years that followed have justified the
|
||
opinions which we held at that time.
|
||
|
||
In our small circle we discussed the project of forming a new party. The
|
||
leading ideas which we then proposed were the same as those which were
|
||
carried into effect afterwards, when the German Labour Party was
|
||
founded. The name of the new movement which was to be founded should be
|
||
such that of itself, it would appeal to the mass of the people; for all
|
||
our efforts would turn out vain and useless if this condition were
|
||
lacking. And that was the reason why we chose the name
|
||
'Social-Revolutionary Party', particularly because the social principles
|
||
of our new organization were indeed revolutionary.
|
||
|
||
But there was also a more fundamental reason. The attention which I had
|
||
given to economic problems during my earlier years was more or less
|
||
confined to considerations arising directly out of the social problem.
|
||
Subsequently this outlook broadened as I came to study the German policy
|
||
of the Triple Alliance. This policy was very largely the result of an
|
||
erroneous valuation of the economic situation, together with a confused
|
||
notion as to the basis on which the future subsistence of the German
|
||
people could be guaranteed. All these ideas were based on the principle
|
||
that capital is exclusively the product of labour and that, just like
|
||
labour, it was subject to all the factors which can hinder or promote
|
||
human activity. Hence, from the national standpoint, the significance of
|
||
capital depended on the greatness and freedom and power of the State,
|
||
that is to say, of the nation, and that it is this dependence alone
|
||
which leads capital to promote the interests of the State and the
|
||
nation, from the instinct of self-preservation and for the sake of its
|
||
own development.
|
||
|
||
On such principles the attitude of the State towards capital would be
|
||
comparatively simple and clear. Its only object would be to make sure
|
||
that capital remained subservient to the State and did not allocate to
|
||
itself the right to dominate national interests. Thus it could confine
|
||
its activities within the two following limits: on the one side, to
|
||
assure a vital and independent system of national economy and, on the
|
||
other, to safeguard the social rights of the workers.
|
||
|
||
Previously I did not recognize with adequate clearness the difference
|
||
between capital which is purely the product of creative labour and the
|
||
existence and nature of capital which is exclusively the result of
|
||
financial speculation. Here I needed an impulse to set my mind thinking
|
||
in this direction; but that impulse had hitherto been lacking.
|
||
|
||
The requisite impulse now came from one of the men who delivered
|
||
lectures in the course I have already mentioned. This was Gottfried
|
||
Feder.
|
||
|
||
For the first time in my life I heard a discussion which dealt with the
|
||
principles of stock-exchange capital and capital which was used for loan
|
||
activities. After hearing the first lecture delivered by Feder, the idea
|
||
immediately came into my head that I had now found a way to one of the
|
||
most essential pre-requisites for the founding of a new party.
|
||
|
||
To my mind, Feder's merit consisted in the ruthless and trenchant way in
|
||
which he described the double character of the capital engaged in
|
||
stock-exchange and loan transaction, laying bare the fact that this
|
||
capital is ever and always dependent on the payment of interest. In
|
||
fundamental questions his statements were so full of common sense that
|
||
those who criticized him did not deny that AU FOND his ideas were sound
|
||
but they doubted whether it be possible to put these ideas into
|
||
practice. To me this seemed the strongest point in Feder's teaching,
|
||
though others considered it a weak point.
|
||
|
||
It is not the business of him who lays down a theoretical programme to
|
||
explain the various ways in which something can be put into practice.
|
||
His task is to deal with the problem as such; and, therefore, he has to
|
||
look to the end rather than the means. The important question is whether
|
||
an idea is fundamentally right or not. The question of whether or not it
|
||
may be difficult to carry it out in practice is quite another matter.
|
||
When a man whose task it is to lay down the principles of a programme or
|
||
policy begins to busy himself with the question as to whether it is
|
||
expedient and practical, instead of confining himself to the statement
|
||
of the absolute truth, his work will cease to be a guiding star to those
|
||
who are looking about for light and leading and will become merely a
|
||
recipe for every-day iife. The man who lays down the programme of a
|
||
movement must consider only the goal. It is for the political leader to
|
||
point out the way in which that goal may be reached. The thought of the
|
||
former will, therefore, be determined by those truths that are
|
||
everlasting, whereas the activity of the latter must always be guided by
|
||
taking practical account of the circumstances under which those truths
|
||
have to be carried into effect.
|
||
|
||
The greatness of the one will depend on the absolute truth of his idea,
|
||
considered in the abstract; whereas that of the other will depend on
|
||
whether or not he correctly judges the given realities and how they may
|
||
be utilized under the guidance of the truths established by the former.
|
||
The test of greatness as applied to a political leader is the success of
|
||
his plans and his enterprises, which means his ability to reach the goal
|
||
for which he sets out; whereas the final goal set up by the political
|
||
philosopher can never be reached; for human thought may grasp truths and
|
||
picture ends which it sees like clear crystal, though such ends can
|
||
never be completely fulfilled because human nature is weak and
|
||
imperfect. The more an idea is correct in the abstract, and, therefore,
|
||
all the more powerful, the smaller is the possibility of putting it into
|
||
practice, at least as far as this latter depends on human beings. The
|
||
significance of a political philosopher does not depend on the practical
|
||
success of the plans he lays down but rather on their absolute truth and
|
||
the influence they exert on the progress of mankind. If it were
|
||
otherwise, the founders of religions could not be considered as the
|
||
greatest men who have ever lived, because their moral aims will never be
|
||
completely or even approximately carried out in practice. Even that
|
||
religion which is called the Religion of Love is really no more than a
|
||
faint reflex of the will of its sublime Founder. But its significance
|
||
lies in the orientation which it endeavoured to give to human
|
||
civilization, and human virtue and morals.
|
||
|
||
This very wide difference between the functions of a political
|
||
philosopher and a practical political leader is the reason why the
|
||
qualifications necessary for both functions are scarcely ever found
|
||
associated in the same person. This applies especially to the so-called
|
||
successful politician of the smaller kind, whose activity is indeed
|
||
hardly more than practising the art of doing the possible, as Bismarck
|
||
modestly defined the art of politics in general. If such a politician
|
||
resolutely avoids great ideas his success will be all the easier to
|
||
attain; it will be attained more expeditely and frequently will be more
|
||
tangible. By reason of this very fact, however, such success is doomed
|
||
to futility and sometimes does not even survive the death of its author.
|
||
Generally speaking, the work of politicians is without significance for
|
||
the following generation, because their temporary success was based on
|
||
the expediency of avoiding all really great decisive problems and ideas
|
||
which would be valid also for future generations.
|
||
|
||
To pursue ideals which will still be of value and significance for the
|
||
future is generally not a very profitable undertaking and he who follows
|
||
such a course is only very rarely understood by the mass of the people,
|
||
who find beer and milk a more persuasive index of political values than
|
||
far-sighted plans for the future, the realization of which can only take
|
||
place later on and the advantages of which can be reaped only by
|
||
posterity.
|
||
|
||
Because of a certain vanity, which is always one of the blood-relations
|
||
of unintelligence, the general run of politicians will always eschew
|
||
those schemes for the future which are really difficult to put into
|
||
practice; and they will practise this avoidance so that they may not
|
||
lose the immediate favour of the mob. The importance and the success of
|
||
such politicians belong exclusively to the present and will be of no
|
||
consequence for the future. But that does not worry small-minded people;
|
||
they are quite content with momentary results.
|
||
|
||
The position of the constructive political philosopher is quite
|
||
different. The importance of his work must always be judged from the
|
||
standpoint of the future; and he is frequently described by the word
|
||
WELTFREMD, or dreamer. While the ability of the politician consists in
|
||
mastering the art of the possible, the founder of a political system
|
||
belongs to those who are said to please the gods only because they wish
|
||
for and demand the impossible. They will always have to renounce
|
||
contemporary fame; but if their ideas be immortal, posterity will grant
|
||
them its acknowledgment.
|
||
|
||
Within long spans of human progress it may occasionally happen that the
|
||
practical politician and political philosopher are one. The more
|
||
intimate this union is, the greater will be the obstacles which the
|
||
activity of the politician will have to encounter. Such a man does not
|
||
labour for the purpose of satisfying demands that are obvious to every
|
||
philistine, but he reaches out towards ends which can be understood only
|
||
by the few. His life is torn asunder by hatred and love. The protest of
|
||
his contemporaries, who do not understand the man, is in conflict with
|
||
the recognition of posterity, for whom he also works.
|
||
|
||
For the greater the work which a man does for the future, the less will
|
||
he be appreciated by his contemporaries. His struggle will accordingly
|
||
be all the more severe, and his success all the rarer. When, in the
|
||
course of centuries, such a man appears who is blessed with success
|
||
then, towards the end of his days, he may have a faint prevision of his
|
||
future fame. But such great men are only the Marathon runners of
|
||
history. The laurels of contemporary fame are only for the brow of the
|
||
dying hero.
|
||
|
||
The great protagonists are those who fight for their ideas and ideals
|
||
despite the fact that they receive no recognition at the hands of their
|
||
contemporaries. They are the men whose memories will be enshrined in the
|
||
hearts of the future generations. It seems then as if each individual
|
||
felt it his duty to make retroactive atonement for the wrong which great
|
||
men have suffered at the hands of their contemporaries. Their lives and
|
||
their work are then studied with touching and grateful admiration.
|
||
Especially in dark days of distress, such men have the power of healing
|
||
broken hearts and elevating the despairing spirit of a people.
|
||
|
||
To this group belong not only the genuinely great statesmen but all the
|
||
great reformers as well. Beside Frederick the Great we have such men as
|
||
Martin Luther and Richard Wagner.
|
||
|
||
When I heard Gottfried Feder's first lecture on 'The Abolition of the
|
||
Interest-Servitude', I understood immediately that here was a truth of
|
||
transcendental importance for the future of the German people. The
|
||
absolute separation of stock-exchange capital from the economic life of
|
||
the nation would make it possible to oppose the process of
|
||
internationalization in German business without at the same time
|
||
attacking capital as such, for to do this would jeopardize the
|
||
foundations of our national independence. I clearly saw what was
|
||
developing in Germany and I realized then that the stiffest fight we
|
||
would have to wage would not be against the enemy nations but against
|
||
international capital. In Feder's speech I found an effective
|
||
rallying-cry for our coming struggle.
|
||
|
||
Here, again, later events proved how correct was the impression we then
|
||
had. The fools among our bourgeois politicians do not mock at us on this
|
||
point any more; for even those politicians now see--if they would speak
|
||
the truth--that international stock-exchange capital was not only the
|
||
chief instigating factor in bringing on the War but that now when the
|
||
War is over it turns the peace into a hell.
|
||
|
||
The struggle against international finance capital and loan-capital has
|
||
become one of the most important points in the programme on which the
|
||
German nation has based its fight for economic freedom and independence.
|
||
|
||
Regarding the objections raised by so-called practical people, the
|
||
following answer must suffice: All apprehensions concerning the fearful
|
||
economic consequences that would follow the abolition of the servitude
|
||
that results from interest-capital are ill-timed; for, in the first
|
||
place, the economic principles hitherto followed have proved quite fatal
|
||
to the interests of the German people. The attitude adopted when the
|
||
question of maintaining our national existence arose vividly recalls
|
||
similar advice once given by experts--the Bavarian Medical College, for
|
||
example--on the question of introducing railroads. The fears expressed
|
||
by that august body of experts were not realized. Those who travelled in
|
||
the coaches of the new 'Steam-horse' did not suffer from vertigo. Those
|
||
who looked on did not become ill and the hoardings which had been
|
||
erected to conceal the new invention were eventually taken down. Only
|
||
those blinds which obscure the vision of the would-be 'experts', have
|
||
remained. And that will be always so.
|
||
|
||
In the second place, the following must be borne in mind: Any idea may
|
||
be a source of danger if it be looked upon as an end in itself, when
|
||
really it is only the means to an end. For me and for all genuine
|
||
National-Socialists there is only one doctrine. PEOPLE AND FATHERLAND.
|
||
|
||
What we have to fight for is the necessary security for the existence
|
||
and increase of our race and people, the subsistence of its children and
|
||
the maintenance of our racial stock unmixed, the freedom and
|
||
independence of the Fatherland; so that our people may be enabled to
|
||
fulfil the mission assigned to it by the Creator.
|
||
|
||
All ideas and ideals, all teaching and all knowledge, must serve these
|
||
ends. It is from this standpoint that everything must be examined and
|
||
turned to practical uses or else discarded. Thus a theory can never
|
||
become a mere dead dogma since everything will have to serve the
|
||
practical ends of everyday life.
|
||
|
||
Thus the judgment arrived at by Gottfried Feder determined me to make a
|
||
fundamental study of a question with which I had hitherto not been very
|
||
familiar.
|
||
|
||
I began to study again and thus it was that I first came to understand
|
||
perfectly what was the substance and purpose of the life-work of the
|
||
Jew, Karl Marx. His CAPITAL became intelligible to me now for the first
|
||
time. And in the light of it I now exactly understood the fight of the
|
||
Social-Democrats against national economics, a fight which was to
|
||
prepare the ground for the hegemony of a real international and
|
||
stock-exchange capital.
|
||
|
||
In another direction also this course of lectures had important
|
||
consequences for me.
|
||
|
||
One day I put my name down as wishing to take part in the discussion.
|
||
Another of the participants thought that he would break a lance for the
|
||
Jews and entered into a lengthy defence of them. This aroused my
|
||
opposition. An overwhelming number of those who attended the lecture
|
||
course supported my views. The consequence of it all was that, a few
|
||
days later, I was assigned to a regiment then stationed at Munich and
|
||
given a position there as 'instruction officer'.
|
||
|
||
At that time the spirit of discipline was rather weak among those
|
||
troops. It was still suffering from the after-effects of the period when
|
||
the Soldiers' Councils were in control. Only gradually and carefully
|
||
could a new spirit of military discipline and obedience be introduced in
|
||
place of 'voluntary obedience', a term which had been used to express
|
||
the ideal of military discipline under Kurt Eisner's higgledy-piggledy
|
||
regime. The soldiers had to be taught to think and feel in a national
|
||
and patriotic way. In these two directions lay my future line of action.
|
||
|
||
I took up my work with the greatest delight and devotion. Here I was
|
||
presented with an opportunity of speaking before quite a large audience.
|
||
I was now able to confirm what I had hitherto merely felt, namely, that
|
||
I had a talent for public speaking. My voice had become so much better
|
||
that I could be well understood, at least in all parts of the small hall
|
||
where the soldiers assembled.
|
||
|
||
No task could have been more pleasing to me than this one; for now,
|
||
before being demobilized, I was in a position to render useful service
|
||
to an institution which had been infinitely dear to my heart: namely,
|
||
the army.
|
||
|
||
I am able to state that my talks were successful. During the course of
|
||
my lectures I have led back hundreds and even thousands of my fellow
|
||
countrymen to their people and their fatherland. I 'nationalized' these
|
||
troops and by so doing I helped to restore general discipline.
|
||
|
||
Here again I made the acquaintance of several comrades whose thought ran
|
||
along the same lines as my own and who later became members of the first
|
||
group out of which the new movement developed.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
CHAPTER IX
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
THE GERMAN LABOUR PARTY
|
||
|
||
|
||
One day I received an order from my superiors to investigate the nature
|
||
of an association which was apparently political. It called itself 'The
|
||
German Labour Party' and was soon to hold a meeting at which Gottfried
|
||
Feder would speak. I was ordered to attend this meeting and report on
|
||
the situation.
|
||
|
||
The spirit of curiosity in which the army authorities then regarded
|
||
political parties can be very well understood. The Revolution had
|
||
granted the soldiers the right to take an active part in politics and it
|
||
was particularly those with the smallest experience who had availed
|
||
themselves of this right. But not until the Centre and the
|
||
Social-Democratic parties were reluctantly forced to recognize that the
|
||
sympathies of the soldiers had turned away from the revolutionary
|
||
parties towards the national movement and the national reawakening, did
|
||
they feel obliged to withdraw from the army the right to vote and to
|
||
forbid it all political activity.
|
||
|
||
The fact that the Centre and Marxism had adopted this policy was
|
||
instructive, because if they had not thus curtailed the 'rights of the
|
||
citizen'--as they described the political rights of the soldiers after
|
||
the Revolution--the government which had been established in November
|
||
1918 would have been overthrown within a few years and the dishonour and
|
||
disgrace of the nation would not have been further prolonged. At that
|
||
time the soldiers were on the point of taking the best way to rid the
|
||
nation of the vampires and valets who served the cause of the Entente in
|
||
the interior of the country. But the fact that the so-called 'national'
|
||
parties voted enthusiastically for the doctrinaire policy of the
|
||
criminals who organized the Revolution in November (1918) helped also to
|
||
render the army ineffective as an instrument of national restoration and
|
||
thus showed once again where men might be led by the purely abstract
|
||
notions accepted by these most gullible people.
|
||
|
||
The minds of the bourgeois middle classes had become so fossilized that
|
||
they sincerely believed the army could once again become what it had
|
||
previously been, namely, a rampart of German valour; while the Centre
|
||
Party and the Marxists intended only to extract the poisonous tooth of
|
||
nationalism, without which an army must always remain just a police
|
||
force but can never be in the position of a military organization
|
||
capable of fighting against the outside enemy. This truth was
|
||
sufficiently proved by subsequent events.
|
||
|
||
Or did our 'national' politicians believe, after all, that the
|
||
development of our army could be other than national? This belief might
|
||
be possible and could be explained by the fact that during the War they
|
||
were not soldiers but merely talkers. In other words, they were
|
||
parliamentarians, and, as such, they did not have the slightest idea of
|
||
what was passing in the hearts of those men who remembered the greatness
|
||
of their own past and also remembered that they had once been the first
|
||
soldiers in the world.
|
||
|
||
I decided to attend the meeting of this Party, which had hitherto been
|
||
entirely unknown to me. When I arrived that evening in the guest room of
|
||
the former Sternecker Brewery--which has now become a place of
|
||
historical significance for us--I found approximately 20-25 persons
|
||
present, most of them belonging to the lower classes.
|
||
|
||
The theme of Feder's lecture was already familiar to me; for I had heard
|
||
it in the lecture course I have spoken of. Therefore, I could
|
||
concentrate my attention on studying the society itself.
|
||
|
||
The impression it made upon me was neither good nor bad. I felt that
|
||
here was just another one of these many new societies which were being
|
||
formed at that time. In those days everybody felt called upon to found a
|
||
new Party whenever he felt displeased with the course of events and had
|
||
lost confidence in all the parties already existing. Thus it was that
|
||
new associations sprouted up all round, to disappear just as quickly,
|
||
without exercising any effect or making any noise whatsoever. Generally
|
||
speaking, the founders of such associations did not have the slightest
|
||
idea of what it means to bring together a number of people for the
|
||
foundations of a party or a movement. Therefore these associations
|
||
disappeared because of their woeful lack of anything like an adequate
|
||
grasp of the necessities of the situation.
|
||
|
||
My opinion of the 'German Labour Party' was not very different after I
|
||
had listened to their proceedings for about two hours. I was glad when
|
||
Feder finally came to a close. I had observed enough and was just about
|
||
to leave when it was announced that anybody who wished was free to open
|
||
a discussion. Thereupon, I decided to remain. But the discussion seemed
|
||
to proceed without anything of vital importance being mentioned, when
|
||
suddenly a 'professor' commenced to speak. He opened by throwing doubt
|
||
on the accuracy of what Feder had said, and then. after Feder had
|
||
replied very effectively, the professor suddenly took up his position on
|
||
what he called 'the basis of facts,' but before this he recommended the
|
||
young party most urgently to introduce the secession of Bavaria from
|
||
Prussia as one of the leading proposals in its programme. In the most
|
||
self-assured way, this man kept on insisting that German-Austria would
|
||
join Bavaria and that the peace would then function much better. He made
|
||
other similarly extravagant statements. At this juncture I felt bound to
|
||
ask for permission to speak and to tell the learned gentleman what I
|
||
thought. The result was that the honourable gentleman who had last
|
||
spoken slipped out of his place, like a whipped cur, without uttering a
|
||
sound. While I was speaking the audience listened with an expression of
|
||
surprise on their faces. When I was just about to say good-night to the
|
||
assembly and to leave, a man came after me quickly and introduced
|
||
himself. I did not grasp the name correctly; but he placed a little book
|
||
in my hand, which was obviously a political pamphlet, and asked me very
|
||
earnestly to read it.
|
||
|
||
I was quite pleased; because in this way, I could come to know about
|
||
this association without having to attend its tiresome meetings.
|
||
Moreover, this man, who had the appearance of a workman, made a good
|
||
impression on me. Thereupon, I left the hall.
|
||
|
||
At that time I was living in one of the barracks of the 2nd Infantry
|
||
Regiment. I had a little room which still bore the unmistakable traces
|
||
of the Revolution. During the day I was mostly out, at the quarters of
|
||
Light Infantry No. 41 or else attending meetings or lectures, held at
|
||
some other branch of the army. I spent only the night at the quarters
|
||
where I lodged. Since I usually woke up about five o'clock every morning
|
||
I got into the habit of amusing myself with watching little mice which
|
||
played around in my small room. I used to place a few pieces of hard
|
||
bread or crust on the floor and watch the funny little beasts playing
|
||
around and enjoying themselves with these delicacies. I had suffered so
|
||
many privations in my own life that I well knew what hunger was and
|
||
could only too well picture to myself the pleasure these little
|
||
creatures were experiencing.
|
||
|
||
So on the morning after the meeting I have mentioned, it happened that
|
||
about five o'clock I lay fully awake in bed, watching the mice playing
|
||
and vying with each other. As I was not able to go to sleep again, I
|
||
suddenly remembered the pamphlet that one of the workers had given me at
|
||
the meeting. It was a small pamphlet of which this worker was the
|
||
author. In his little book he described how his mind had thrown off the
|
||
shackles of the Marxist and trades-union phraseology, and that he had
|
||
come back to the nationalist ideals. That was the reason why he had
|
||
entitled his little book: "My Political Awakening". The pamphlet secured
|
||
my attention the moment I began to read, and I read it with interest to
|
||
the end. The process here described was similar to that which I had
|
||
experienced in my own case ten years previously. Unconsciously my own
|
||
experiences began to stir again in my mind. During that day my thoughts
|
||
returned several times to what I had read; but I finally decided to give
|
||
the matter no further attention. A week or so later, however, I received
|
||
a postcard which informed me, to my astonishment, that I had been
|
||
admitted into the German Labour Party. I was asked to answer this
|
||
communication and to attend a meeting of the Party Committee on
|
||
Wednesday next.
|
||
|
||
This manner of getting members rather amazed me, and I did not know
|
||
whether to be angry or laugh at it. Hitherto I had not any idea of
|
||
entering a party already in existence but wanted to found one of my own.
|
||
Such an invitation as I now had received I looked upon as entirely out
|
||
of the question for me.
|
||
|
||
I was about to send a written reply when my curiosity got the better of
|
||
me, and I decided to attend the gathering at the date assigned, so that
|
||
I might expound my principles to these gentlemen in person.
|
||
|
||
Wednesday came. The tavern in which the meeting was to take place was
|
||
the 'Alte Rosenbad' in the Herrnstrasse, into which apparently only an
|
||
occasional guest wandered. This was not very surprising in the year
|
||
1919, when the bills of fare even at the larger restaurants were only
|
||
very modest and scanty in their pretensions and thus not very attractive
|
||
to clients. But I had never before heard of this restaurant.
|
||
|
||
I went through the badly-lighted guest-room, where not a single guest
|
||
was to be seen, and searched for the door which led to the side room;
|
||
and there I was face-to-face with the 'Congress'. Under the dim light
|
||
shed by a grimy gas-lamp I could see four young people sitting around a
|
||
table, one of them the author of the pamphlet. He greeted me cordially
|
||
and welcomed me as a new member of the German Labour Party.
|
||
|
||
I was taken somewhat aback on being informed that actually the National
|
||
President of the Party had not yet come; so I decided that I would keep
|
||
back my own exposition for the time being. Finally the President
|
||
appeared. He was the man who had been chairman of the meeting held in
|
||
the Sternecker Brewery, when Feder spoke.
|
||
|
||
My curiosity was stimulated anew and I sat waiting for what was going to
|
||
happen. Now I got at least as far as learning the names of the gentlemen
|
||
who had been parties to the whole affair. The REICH National President
|
||
of the Association was a certain Herr Harrer and the President for the
|
||
Munich district was Anton Drexler.
|
||
|
||
The minutes of the previous meeting were read out and a vote of
|
||
confidence in the secretary was passed. Then came the treasurer's
|
||
report. The Society possessed a total fund of seven marks and fifty
|
||
pfennigs (a sum corresponding to 7s. 6d. in English money at par),
|
||
whereupon the treasurer was assured that he had the confidence of the
|
||
members. This was now inserted in the minutes. Then letters of reply
|
||
which had been written by the Chairman were read; first, to a letter
|
||
received from Kiel, then to one from D<>sseldorf and finally to one from
|
||
Berlin. All three replies received the approval of all present. Then the
|
||
incoming letters were read--one from Berlin, one from D<>sseldorf and one
|
||
from Kiel. The reception of these letters seemed to cause great
|
||
satisfaction. This increasing bulk of correspondence was taken as the
|
||
best and most obvious sign of the growing importance of the German
|
||
Labour Party. And then? Well, there followed a long discussion of the
|
||
replies which would be given to these newly-received letters.
|
||
|
||
It was all very awful. This was the worst kind of parish-pump clubbism.
|
||
And was I supposed to become a member of such a club?
|
||
|
||
The question of new members was next discussed--that is to say, the
|
||
question of catching myself in the trap.
|
||
|
||
I now began to ask questions. But I found that, apart from a few general
|
||
principles, there was nothing--no programme, no pamphlet, nothing at all
|
||
in print, no card of membership, not even a party stamp, nothing but
|
||
obvious good faith and good intentions.
|
||
|
||
I no longer felt inclined to laugh; for what else was all this but a
|
||
typical sign of the most complete perplexity and deepest despair in
|
||
regard to all political parties, their programmes and views and
|
||
activities? The feeling which had induced those few young people to join
|
||
in what seemed such a ridiculous enterprise was nothing but the call of
|
||
the inner voice which told them--though more intuitively than
|
||
consciously--that the whole party system as it had hitherto existed was
|
||
not the kind of force that could restore the German nation or repair the
|
||
damages that had been done to the German people by those who hitherto
|
||
controlled the internal affairs of the nation. I quickly read through
|
||
the list of principles that formed the platform of the party. These
|
||
principles were stated on typewritten sheets. Here again I found
|
||
evidence of the spirit of longing and searching, but no sign whatever of
|
||
a knowledge of the conflict that had to be fought. I myself had
|
||
experienced the feelings which inspired those people. It was the longing
|
||
for a movement which should be more than a party, in the hitherto
|
||
accepted meaning of that word.
|
||
|
||
When I returned to my room in the barracks that evening I had formed a
|
||
definite opinion on this association and I was facing the most difficult
|
||
problem of my life. Should I join this party or refuse?
|
||
|
||
From the side of the intellect alone, every consideration urged me to
|
||
refuse; but my feelings troubled me. The more I tried to prove to myself
|
||
how senseless this club was, on the whole, the more did my feelings
|
||
incline me to favour it. During the following days I was restless.
|
||
|
||
I began to consider all the pros and cons. I had long ago decided to
|
||
take an active part in politics. The fact that I could do so only
|
||
through a new movement was quite clear to me; but I had hitherto lacked
|
||
the impulse to take concrete action. I am not one of those people who
|
||
will begin something to-day and just give it up the next day for the
|
||
sake of something new. That was the main reason which made it so
|
||
difficult for me to decide in joining something newly founded; for this
|
||
must become the real fulfilment of everything I dreamt, or else it had
|
||
better not be started at all. I knew that such a decision should bind me
|
||
for ever and that there could be no turning back. For me there could be
|
||
no idle dallying but only a cause to be championed ardently. I had
|
||
already an instinctive feeling against people who took up everything,
|
||
but never carried anything through to the end. I loathed these
|
||
Jacks-of-all-Trades, and considered the activities of such people to be
|
||
worse than if they were to remain entirely quiescent.
|
||
|
||
Fate herself now seemed to supply the finger-post that pointed out the
|
||
way. I should never have entered one of the big parties already in
|
||
existence and shall explain my reasons for this later on. This ludicrous
|
||
little formation, with its handful of members, seemed to have the unique
|
||
advantage of not yet being fossilized into an 'organization' and still
|
||
offered a chance for real personal activity on the part of the
|
||
individual. Here it might still be possible to do some effective work;
|
||
and, as the movement was still small, one could all the easier give it
|
||
the required shape. Here it was still possible to determine the
|
||
character of the movement, the aims to be achieved and the road to be
|
||
taken, which would have been impossible in the case of the big parties
|
||
already existing.
|
||
|
||
The longer I reflected on the problem, the more my opinion developed
|
||
that just such a small movement would best serve as an instrument to
|
||
prepare the way for the national resurgence, but that this could never
|
||
be done by the political parliamentary parties which were too firmly
|
||
attached to obsolete ideas or had an interest in supporting the new
|
||
regime. What had to be proclaimed here was a new WELTANSCHAUUNG and not
|
||
a new election cry.
|
||
|
||
It was, however, infinitely difficult to decide on putting the intention
|
||
into practice. What were the qualifications which I could bring to the
|
||
accomplishment of such a task?
|
||
|
||
The fact that I was poor and without resources could, in my opinion, be
|
||
the easiest to bear. But the fact that I was utterly unknown raised a
|
||
more difficult problem. I was only one of the millions which Chance
|
||
allows to exist or cease to exist, whom even their next-door neighbours
|
||
will not consent to know. Another difficulty arose from the fact that I
|
||
had not gone through the regular school curriculum.
|
||
|
||
The so-called 'intellectuals' still look down with infinite
|
||
superciliousness on anyone who has not been through the prescribed
|
||
schools and allowed them to pump the necessary knowledge into him. The
|
||
question of what a man can do is never asked but rather, what has he
|
||
learned? 'Educated' people look upon any imbecile who is plastered with
|
||
a number of academic certificates as superior to the ablest young fellow
|
||
who lacks these precious documents. I could therefore easily imagine how
|
||
this 'educated' world would receive me and I was wrong only in so far as
|
||
I then believed men to be for the most part better than they proved to
|
||
be in the cold light of reality. Because of their being as they are, the
|
||
few exceptions stand out all the more conspicuously. I learned more and
|
||
more to distinguish between those who will always be at school and those
|
||
who will one day come to know something in reality.
|
||
|
||
After two days of careful brooding and reflection I became convinced
|
||
that I must take the contemplated step.
|
||
|
||
It was the most fateful decision of my life. No retreat was possible.
|
||
|
||
Thus I declared myself ready to accept the membership tendered me by the
|
||
German Labour Party and received a provisional certificate of
|
||
membership. I was numbered SEVEN.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
CHAPTER X
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
WHY THE SECOND REICH COLLAPSED
|
||
|
||
|
||
The depth of a fall is always measured by the difference between the
|
||
level of the original position from which a body has fallen and that in
|
||
which it is now found. The same holds good for Nations and States. The
|
||
matter of greatest importance here is the height of the original level,
|
||
or rather the greatest height that had been attained before the descent
|
||
began.
|
||
|
||
For only the profound decline or collapse of that which was capable of
|
||
reaching extraordinary heights can make a striking impression on the eye
|
||
of the beholder. The collapse of the Second REICH was all the more
|
||
bewildering for those who could ponder over it and feel the effect of it
|
||
in their hearts, because the REICH had fallen from a height which can
|
||
hardly be imagined in these days of misery and humiliation.
|
||
|
||
The Second REICH was founded in circumstances of such dazzling splendour
|
||
that the whole nation had become entranced and exalted by it. Following
|
||
an unparalleled series of victories, that Empire was handed over as the
|
||
guerdon of immortal heroism to the children and grandchildren of the
|
||
heroes. Whether they were fully conscious of it or not does not matter;
|
||
anyhow, the Germans felt that this Empire had not been brought into
|
||
existence by a series of able political negotiations through
|
||
parliamentary channels, but that it was different from political
|
||
institutions founded elsewhere by reason of the nobler circumstances
|
||
that had accompanied its establishment. When its foundations were laid
|
||
the accompanying music was not the chatter of parliamentary debates but
|
||
the thunder and boom of war along the battle front that encircled Paris.
|
||
It was thus that an act of statesmanship was accomplished whereby the
|
||
Germans, princes as well as people, established the future REICH and
|
||
restored the symbol of the Imperial Crown. Bismarck's State was not
|
||
founded on treason and assassination by deserters and shirkers but by
|
||
the regiments that had fought at the front. This unique birth and
|
||
baptism of fire sufficed of themselves to surround the Second Empire
|
||
with an aureole of historical splendour such as few of the older States
|
||
could lay claim to.
|
||
|
||
And what an ascension then began! A position of independence in regard
|
||
to the outside world guaranteed the means of livelihood at home. The
|
||
nation increased in numbers and in worldly wealth. The honour of the
|
||
State and therewith the honour of the people as a whole were secured and
|
||
protected by an army which was the most striking witness of the
|
||
difference between this new REICH and the old German Confederation.
|
||
|
||
But the downfall of the Second Empire and the German people has been so
|
||
profound that they all seem to have been struck dumbfounded and rendered
|
||
incapable of feeling the significance of this downfall or reflecting on
|
||
it. It seems as if people were utterly unable to picture in their minds
|
||
the heights to which the Empire formerly attained, so visionary and
|
||
unreal appears the greatness and splendour of those days in contrast to
|
||
the misery of the present. Bearing this in mind we can understand why
|
||
and how people become so dazed when they try to look back to the sublime
|
||
past that they forget to look for the symptoms of the great collapse
|
||
which must certainly have been present in some form or other. Naturally
|
||
this applies only to those for whom Germany was more than merely a place
|
||
of abode and a source of livelihood. These are the only people who have
|
||
been able to feel the present conditions as really catastrophic, whereas
|
||
others have considered these conditions as the fulfilment of what they
|
||
had looked forward to and hitherto silently wished.
|
||
|
||
The symptoms of future collapse were definitely to be perceived in those
|
||
earlier days, although very few made any attempt to draw a practical
|
||
lesson from their significance. But this is now a greater necessity than
|
||
it ever was before. For just as bodily ailments can be cured only when
|
||
their origin has been diagnosed, so also political disease can be
|
||
treated only when it has been diagnosed. It is obvious of course that
|
||
the external symptoms of any disease can be more readily detected than
|
||
its internal causes, for these symptoms strike the eye more easily. This
|
||
is also the reason why so many people recognize only external effects
|
||
and mistake them for causes. Indeed they will sometimes try to deny the
|
||
existence of such causes. And that is why the majority of people among
|
||
us recognize the German collapse only in the prevailing economic
|
||
distress and the results that have followed therefrom. Almost everyone
|
||
has to carry his share of this burden, and that is why each one looks on
|
||
the economic catastrophe as the cause of the present deplorable state of
|
||
affairs. The broad masses of the people see little of the cultural,
|
||
political, and moral background of this collapse. Many of them
|
||
completely lack both the necessary feeling and powers of understanding
|
||
for it.
|
||
|
||
That the masses of the people should thus estimate the causes of
|
||
Germany's downfall is quite understandable. But the fact that
|
||
intelligent sections of the community regard the German collapse
|
||
primarily as an economic catastrophe, and consequently think that a cure
|
||
for it may be found in an economic solution, seems to me to be the
|
||
reason why hitherto no improvement has been brought about. No
|
||
improvement can be brought about until it be understood that economics
|
||
play only a second or third role, while the main part is played by
|
||
political, moral and racial factors. Only when this is understood will
|
||
it be possible to understand the causes of the present evil and
|
||
consequently to find the ways and means of remedying them.
|
||
|
||
Therefore the question of why Germany really collapsed is one of the
|
||
most urgent significance, especially for a political movement which aims
|
||
at overcoming this disaster.
|
||
|
||
In scrutinizing the past with a view to discovering the causes of the
|
||
German break-up, it is necessary to be careful lest we may be unduly
|
||
impressed by external results that readily strike the eye and thus
|
||
ignore the less manifest causes of these results.
|
||
|
||
The most facile, and therefore the most generally accepted, way of
|
||
accounting for the present misfortune is to say that it is the result of
|
||
a lost war, and that this is the real cause of the present misfortune.
|
||
Probably there are many who honestly believe in this absurd explanation
|
||
but there are many more in whose mouths it is a deliberate and conscious
|
||
falsehood. This applies to all those who are now feeding at the
|
||
Government troughs. For the prophets of the Revolution again and again
|
||
declared to the people that it would be immaterial to the great masses
|
||
what the result of the War might be. On the contrary, they solemnly
|
||
assured the public that it was High Finance which was principally
|
||
interested in a victorious outcome of this gigantic struggle among the
|
||
nations but that the German people and the German workers had no
|
||
interest whatsoever in such an outcome. Indeed the apostles of world
|
||
conciliation habitually asserted that, far from any German downfall, the
|
||
opposite was bound to take place--namely, the resurgence of the German
|
||
people--once 'militarism' had been crushed. Did not these self-same
|
||
circles sing the praises of the Entente and did they not also lay the
|
||
whole blame for the sanguinary struggle on the shoulders of Germany?
|
||
Without this explanation, would they have been able to put forward the
|
||
theory that a military defeat would have no political consequences for
|
||
the German people? Was not the whole Revolution dressed up in gala
|
||
colours as blocking the victorious advance of the German banners and
|
||
that thus the German people would be assured its liberty both at home
|
||
and abroad?
|
||
|
||
Is not that so, you miserable, lying rascals?
|
||
|
||
That kind of impudence which is typical of the Jews was necessary in
|
||
order to proclaim the defeat of the army as the cause of the German
|
||
collapse. Indeed the Berlin VORW<52>RTS, that organ and mouthpiece of
|
||
sedition then wrote on this occasion that the German nation should not
|
||
be permitted to bring home its banners triumphantly.
|
||
|
||
And yet they attribute our collapse to the military defeat.
|
||
|
||
Of course it would be out of the question to enter into an argument with
|
||
these liars who deny at one moment what they said the moment before. I
|
||
should waste no further words on them were it not for the fact that
|
||
there are many thoughtless people who repeat all this in parrot fashion,
|
||
without being necessarily inspired by any evil motives. But the
|
||
observations I am making here are also meant for our fighting followers,
|
||
seeing that nowadays one's spoken words are often forgotten and twisted
|
||
in their meaning.
|
||
|
||
The assertion that the loss of the War was the cause of the German
|
||
collapse can best be answered as follows:
|
||
|
||
It is admittedly a fact that the loss of the War was of tragic
|
||
importance for the future of our country. But that loss was not in
|
||
itself a cause. It was rather the consequence of other causes. That a
|
||
disastrous ending to this life-or-death conflict must have involved
|
||
catastrophes in its train was clearly seen by everyone of insight who
|
||
could think in a straightforward manner. But unfortunately there were
|
||
also people whose powers of understanding seemed to fail them at that
|
||
critical moment. And there were other people who had first questioned
|
||
that truth and then altogether denied it. And there were people who,
|
||
after their secret desire had been fulfilled, were suddenly faced with
|
||
the subsequent facts that resulted from their own collaboration. Such
|
||
people are responsible for the collapse, and not the lost war, though
|
||
they now want to attribute everything to this. As a matter of fact the
|
||
loss of the War was a result of their activities and not the result of
|
||
bad leadership as they now would like to maintain. Our enemies were not
|
||
cowards. They also know how to die. From the very first day of the War
|
||
they outnumbered the German Army, and the arsenals and armament
|
||
factories of the whole world were at their disposal for the
|
||
replenishment of military equipment. Indeed it is universally admitted
|
||
that the German victories, which had been steadily won during four years
|
||
of warfare against the whole world, were due to superior leadership,
|
||
apart of course from the heroism of the troops. And the organization was
|
||
solely due to the German military leadership. That organization and
|
||
leadership of the German Army was the most mighty thing that the world
|
||
has ever seen. Any shortcomings which became evident were humanly
|
||
unavoidable. The collapse of that army was not the cause of our present
|
||
distress. It was itself the consequence of other faults. But this
|
||
consequence in its turn ushered in a further collapse, which was more
|
||
visible. That such was actually the case can be shown as follows:
|
||
|
||
Must a military defeat necessarily lead to such a complete overthrow of
|
||
the State and Nation? Whenever has this been the result of an unlucky
|
||
war? As a matter of fact, are nations ever ruined by a lost war and by
|
||
that alone? The answer to this question can be briefly stated by
|
||
referring to the fact that military defeats are the result of internal
|
||
decay, cowardice, want of character, and are a retribution for such
|
||
things. If such were not the causes then a military defeat would lead to
|
||
a national resurgence and bring the nation to a higher pitch of effort.
|
||
A military defeat is not the tombstone of national life. History affords
|
||
innumerable examples to confirm the truth of that statement.
|
||
|
||
Unfortunately Germany's military overthrow was not an undeserved
|
||
catastrophe, but a well-merited punishment which was in the nature of an
|
||
eternal retribution. This defeat was more than deserved by us; for it
|
||
represented the greatest external phenomenon of decomposition among a
|
||
series of internal phenomena, which, although they were visible, were
|
||
not recognized by the majority of the people, who follow the tactics of
|
||
the ostrich and see only what they want to see.
|
||
|
||
Let us examine the symptoms that were evident in Germany at the time
|
||
that the German people accepted this defeat. Is it not true that in
|
||
several circles the misfortunes of the Fatherland were even joyfully
|
||
welcomed in the most shameful manner? Who could act in such a way
|
||
without thereby meriting vengeance for his attitude? Were there not
|
||
people who even went further and boasted that they had gone to the
|
||
extent of weakening the front and causing a collapse? Therefore it was
|
||
not the enemy who brought this disgrace upon our shoulders but rather
|
||
our own countrymen. If they suffered misfortune for it afterwards, was
|
||
that misfortune undeserved? Was there ever a case in history where a
|
||
people declared itself guilty of a war, and that even against its better
|
||
conscience and its better knowledge?
|
||
|
||
No, and again no. In the manner in which the German nation reacted to
|
||
its defeat we can see that the real cause of our collapse must be looked
|
||
for elsewhere and not in the purely military loss of a few positions or
|
||
the failure of an offensive. For if the front as such had given way and
|
||
thus brought about a national disaster, then the German nation would
|
||
have accepted the defeat in quite another spirit. They would have borne
|
||
the subsequent misfortune with clenched teeth, or they would have been
|
||
overwhelmed by sorrow. Regret and fury would have filled their hearts
|
||
against an enemy into whose hands victory had been given by a chance
|
||
event or the decree of Fate; and in that case the nation, following the
|
||
example of the Roman Senate (Note 14), would have faced the defeated
|
||
legions on their return and expressed their thanks for the sacrifices that
|
||
had been made and would have requested them not to lose faith in the
|
||
Empire. Even the capitulation would have been signed under the sway of
|
||
calm reason, while the heart would have beaten in the hope of the coming
|
||
REVANCHE.
|
||
|
||
[Note 14. Probably the author has two separate incidents in mind. The
|
||
first happened in 390 B.C., when, as the victorious Gauls descended on
|
||
Rome, the Senators ordered their ivory chairs to be placed in the Forum
|
||
before the Temples ofthe Gods. There, clad in their robes of state, they
|
||
awaited the invader, hoping to save the city by sacrificing themselves.
|
||
This noble gesture failed for the time being; but it had an inspiring
|
||
influence on subsequent generations. The second incident, which has more
|
||
historical authenticity, occurred after the Roman defeat at Cannae in 216
|
||
B.C. On that occasion Varro, the Roman commander, who, though in great
|
||
part responsible for the disaster, made an effort to carry on the
|
||
struggle, was, on his return to Rome, met by the citizens of all ranks
|
||
and publicly thanked because he had not despaired of the Republic. The
|
||
consequence was that the Republic refused to make peace with the
|
||
victorious Carthagenians.]
|
||
|
||
That is the reception that would have been given to a military defeat
|
||
which had to be attributed only to the adverse decree of Fortune. There
|
||
would have been neither joy-making nor dancing. Cowardice would not have
|
||
been boasted of, and the defeat would not have been honoured. On
|
||
returning from the Front, the troops would not have been mocked at, and
|
||
the colours would not have been dragged in the dust. But above all, that
|
||
disgraceful state of affairs could never have arisen which induced a
|
||
British officer, Colonel Repington, to declare with scorn: Every third
|
||
German is a traitor! No, in such a case this plague would never have
|
||
assumed the proportions of a veritable flood which, for the past five
|
||
years, has smothered every vestige of respect for the German nation in
|
||
the outside world.
|
||
|
||
This shows only too clearly how false it is to say that the loss of the
|
||
War was the cause of the German break-up. No. The military defeat was
|
||
itself but the consequence of a whole series of morbid symptoms and
|
||
their causes which had become active in the German nation before the War
|
||
broke out. The War was the first catastrophal consequence, visible to
|
||
all, of how traditions and national morale had been poisoned and how the
|
||
instinct of self-preservation had degenerated. These were the
|
||
preliminary causes which for many years had been undermining the
|
||
foundations of the nation and the Empire.
|
||
|
||
But it remained for the Jews, with their unqualified capacity for
|
||
falsehood, and their fighting comrades, the Marxists, to impute
|
||
responsibility for the downfall precisely to the man who alone had shown
|
||
a superhuman will and energy in his effort to prevent the catastrophe
|
||
which he had foreseen and to save the nation from that hour of complete
|
||
overthrow and shame. By placing responsibility for the loss of the world
|
||
war on the shoulders of Ludendorff they took away the weapon of moral
|
||
right from the only adversary dangerous enough to be likely to succeed
|
||
in bringing the betrayers of the Fatherland to Justice. All this was
|
||
inspired by the principle--which is quite true in itself--that in the
|
||
big lie there is always a certain force of credibility; because the
|
||
broad masses of a nation are always more easily corrupted in the deeper
|
||
strata of their emotional nature than consciously or voluntarily; and
|
||
thus in the primitive simplicity of their minds they more readily fall
|
||
victims to the big lie than the small lie, since they themselves often
|
||
tell small lies in little matters but would be ashamed to resort to
|
||
large-scale falsehoods. It would never come into their heads to
|
||
fabricate colossal untruths, and they would not believe that others
|
||
could have the impudence to distort the truth so infamously. Even though
|
||
the facts which prove this to be so may be brought clearly to their
|
||
minds, they will still doubt and waver and will continue to think that
|
||
there may be some other explanation. For the grossly impudent lie always
|
||
leaves traces behind it, even after it has been nailed down, a fact
|
||
which is known to all expert liars in this world and to all who conspire
|
||
together in the art of lying. These people know only too well how to use
|
||
falsehood for the basest purposes.
|
||
|
||
From time immemorial. however, the Jews have known better than any
|
||
others how falsehood and calumny can be exploited. Is not their very
|
||
existence founded on one great lie, namely, that they are a religious
|
||
community, whereas in reality they are a race? And what a race! One of
|
||
the greatest thinkers that mankind has produced has branded the Jews for
|
||
all time with a statement which is profoundly and exactly true. He
|
||
(Schopenhauer) called the Jew "The Great Master of Lies". Those who do
|
||
not realize the truth of that statement, or do not wish to believe it,
|
||
will never be able to lend a hand in helping Truth to prevail.
|
||
|
||
We may regard it as a great stroke of fortune for the German nation that
|
||
its period of lingering suffering was so suddenly curtailed and
|
||
transformed into such a terrible catastrophe. For if things had gone on
|
||
as they were the nation would have more slowly, but more surely, gone to
|
||
ruin. The disease would have become chronic; whereas, in the acute form
|
||
of the disaster, it at least showed itself clearly to the eyes of a
|
||
considerable number of observers. It was not by accident that man
|
||
conquered the black plague more easily than he conquered tuberculosis.
|
||
The first appeared in terrifying waves of death that shook the whole of
|
||
mankind, the other advances insidiously; the first induces terror, the
|
||
other gradual indifference. The result is, however, that men opposed the
|
||
first with all the energy they were capable of, whilst they try to
|
||
arrest tuberculosis by feeble means. Thus man has mastered the black
|
||
plague, while tuberculosis still gets the better of him.
|
||
|
||
The same applies to diseases in nations. So long as these diseases are
|
||
not of a catastrophic character, the population will slowly accustom
|
||
itself to them and later succumb. It is then a stroke of luck--although
|
||
a bitter one--when Fate decides to interfere in this slow process of
|
||
decay and suddenly brings the victim face to face with the final stage
|
||
of the disease. More often than not the result of a catastrophe is that
|
||
a cure is at once undertaken and carried through with rigid
|
||
determination.
|
||
|
||
But even in such a case the essential preliminary condition is always
|
||
the recognition of the internal causes which have given rise to the
|
||
disease in question.
|
||
|
||
The important question here is the differentiation of the root causes
|
||
from the circumstances developing out of them. This becomes all the more
|
||
difficult the longer the germs of disease remain in the national body
|
||
and the longer they are allowed to become an integral part of that body.
|
||
It may easily happen that, as time goes on, it will become so difficult
|
||
to recognize certain definite virulent poisons as such that they are
|
||
accepted as belonging to the national being; or they are merely
|
||
tolerated as a necessary evil, so that drastic attempts to locate those
|
||
alien germs are not held to be necessary.
|
||
|
||
During the long period of peace prior to the last war certain evils were
|
||
apparent here and there although, with one or two exceptions, very
|
||
little effort was made to discover their origin. Here again these
|
||
exceptions were first and foremost those phenomena in the economic life
|
||
of the nation which were more apparent to the individual than the evil
|
||
conditions existing in a good many other spheres.
|
||
|
||
There were many signs of decay which ought to have been given serious
|
||
thought. As far as economics were concerned, the following may be
|
||
said:--
|
||
|
||
The amazing increase of population in Germany before the war brought the
|
||
question of providing daily bread into a more and more prominent
|
||
position in all spheres of political and economic thought and action.
|
||
But unfortunately those responsible could not make up their minds to
|
||
arrive at the only correct solution and preferred to reach their
|
||
objective by cheaper methods. Repudiation of the idea of acquiring fresh
|
||
territory and the substitution for it of the mad desire for the
|
||
commercial conquest of the world was bound to lead eventually to
|
||
unlimited and injurious industrialization.
|
||
|
||
The first and most fatal result brought about in this way was the
|
||
weakening of the agricultural classes, whose decline was proportionate
|
||
to the increase in the proletariat of the urban areas, until finally the
|
||
equilibrium was completely upset.
|
||
|
||
The big barrier dividing rich and poor now became apparent. Luxury and
|
||
poverty lived so close to each other that the consequences were bound to
|
||
be deplorable. Want and frequent unemployment began to play havoc with
|
||
the people and left discontent and embitterment behind them. The result
|
||
of this was to divide the population into political classes. Discontent
|
||
increased in spite of commercial prosperity. Matters finally reached
|
||
that stage which brought about the general conviction that 'things
|
||
cannot go on as they are', although no one seemed able to visualize what
|
||
was really going to happen.
|
||
|
||
These were typical and visible signs of the depths which the prevailing
|
||
discontent had reached. Far worse than these, however, were other
|
||
consequences which became apparent as a result of the industrialization
|
||
of the nation.
|
||
|
||
In proportion to the extent that commerce assumed definite control of
|
||
the State, money became more and more of a God whom all had to serve and
|
||
bow down to. Heavenly Gods became more and more old-fashioned and were
|
||
laid away in the corners to make room for the worship of mammon. And
|
||
thus began a period of utter degeneration which became specially
|
||
pernicious because it set in at a time when the nation was more than
|
||
ever in need of an exalted idea, for a critical hour was threatening.
|
||
Germany should have been prepared to protect with the sword her efforts
|
||
to win her own daily bread in a peaceful way.
|
||
|
||
Unfortunately, the predominance of money received support and sanction
|
||
in the very quarter which ought to have been opposed to it. His Majesty,
|
||
the Kaiser, made a mistake when he raised representatives of the new
|
||
finance capital to the ranks of the nobility. Admittedly, it may be
|
||
offered as an excuse that even Bismarck failed to realize the
|
||
threatening danger in this respect. In practice, however, all ideal
|
||
virtues became secondary considerations to those of money, for it was
|
||
clear that having once taken this road, the nobility of the sword would
|
||
very soon rank second to that of finance.
|
||
|
||
Financial operations succeed easier than war operations. Hence it was no
|
||
longer any great attraction for a true hero or even a statesman to be
|
||
brought into touch with the nearest Jew banker. Real merit was not
|
||
interested in receiving cheap decorations and therefore declined them
|
||
with thanks. But from the standpoint of good breeding such a development
|
||
was deeply regrettable. The nobility began to lose more and more of the
|
||
racial qualities that were a condition of its very existence, with the
|
||
result that in many cases the term 'plebeian' would have been more
|
||
appropriate.
|
||
|
||
A serious state of economic disruption was being brought about by the
|
||
slow elimination of the personal control of vested interests and the
|
||
gradual transference of the whole economic structure into the hands of
|
||
joint stock companies.
|
||
|
||
In this way labour became degraded into an object of speculation in the
|
||
hands of unscrupulous exploiters.
|
||
|
||
The de-personalization of property ownership increased on a vast scale.
|
||
Financial exchange circles began to triumph and made slow but sure
|
||
progress in assuming control of the whole of national life.
|
||
|
||
Before the War the internationalization of the German economic structure
|
||
had already begun by the roundabout way of share issues. It is true that
|
||
a section of the German industrialists made a determined attempt to
|
||
avert the danger, but in the end they gave way before the united attacks
|
||
of money-grabbing capitalism, which was assisted in this fight by its
|
||
faithful henchmen in the Marxist movement.
|
||
|
||
The persistent war against German 'heavy industries' was the visible
|
||
start of the internationalization of German economic life as envisaged
|
||
by the Marxists. This, however, could only be brought to a successful
|
||
conclusion by the victory which Marxism was able to gain in the
|
||
Revolution. As I write these words, success is attending the general
|
||
attack on the German State Railways which are now to be turned over to
|
||
international capitalists. Thus 'International Social-Democracy' has
|
||
once again attained one of its main objectives.
|
||
|
||
The best evidence of how far this 'commercialization' of the German
|
||
nation was able to go can be plainly seen in the fact that when the War
|
||
was over one of the leading captains of German industry and commerce
|
||
gave it as his opinion that commerce as such was the only force which
|
||
could put Germany on its feet again.
|
||
|
||
This sort of nonsense was uttered just at the time when France was
|
||
restoring public education on a humanitarian basis, thus doing away with
|
||
the idea that national life is dependent on commerce rather than ideal
|
||
values. The statement which Stinnes broadcasted to the world at that
|
||
time caused incredible confusion. It was immediately taken up and has
|
||
become the leading motto of all those humbugs and babblers--the
|
||
'statesmen' whom Fate let loose on Germany after the Revolution.
|
||
|
||
One of the worst evidences of decadence in Germany before the War was
|
||
the ever increasing habit of doing things by halves. This was one of the
|
||
consequences of the insecurity that was felt all round. And it is to be
|
||
attributed also to a certain timidity which resulted from one cause or
|
||
another. And the latter malady was aggravated by the educational system.
|
||
|
||
German education in pre-War times had an extraordinary number of weak
|
||
features. It was simply and exclusively limited to the production of
|
||
pure knowledge and paid little attention to the development of practical
|
||
ability. Still less attention was given to the development of individual
|
||
character, in so far as this is ever possible. And hardly any attention
|
||
at all was paid to the development of a sense of responsibility, to
|
||
strengthening the will and the powers of decision. The result of this
|
||
method was to produce erudite people who had a passion for knowing
|
||
everything. Before the War we Germans were accepted and estimated
|
||
accordingly. The German was liked because good use could be made of him;
|
||
but there was little esteem for him personally, on account of this
|
||
weakness of character. For those who can read its significance aright,
|
||
there is much instruction in the fact that among all nationalities
|
||
Germans were the first to part with their national citizenship when they
|
||
found themselves in a foreign country. And there is a world of meaning
|
||
in the saying that was then prevalent: 'With the hat in the hand one can
|
||
go through the whole country'.
|
||
|
||
This kind of social etiquette turned out disastrous when it prescribed
|
||
the exclusive forms that had to be observed in the presence of His
|
||
Majesty. These forms insisted that there should be no contradiction
|
||
whatsoever, but that everything should be praised which His Majesty
|
||
condescended to like.
|
||
|
||
It was just here that the frank expression of manly dignity, and not
|
||
subservience, was most needed. Servility in the presence of monarchs may
|
||
be good enough for the professional lackey and place-hunter, in fact for
|
||
all those decadent beings who are more pleased to be found moving in the
|
||
high circles of royalty than among honest citizens. These exceedingly
|
||
'humble' creatures however, though they grovel before their lord and
|
||
bread-giver, invariably put on airs of boundless superciliousness
|
||
towards other mortals, which was particularly impudent when they posed
|
||
as the only people who had the right to be called 'monarchists'. This
|
||
was a gross piece of impertinence such as only despicable specimens
|
||
among the newly-ennobled or yet-to-be-ennobled could be capable of.
|
||
|
||
And these have always been just the people who have prepared the way for
|
||
the downfall of monarchy and the monarchical principle. It could not be
|
||
otherwise. For when a man is prepared to stand up for a cause, come what
|
||
may, he never grovels before its representative. A man who is serious
|
||
about the maintenance and welfare of an institution will not allow
|
||
himself to be discouraged when the representatives of that institution
|
||
show certain faults and failings. And he certainly will not run around
|
||
to tell the world about it, as certain false democratic 'friends' of the
|
||
monarchy have done; but he will approach His Majesty, the bearer of the
|
||
Crown himself, to warn him of the seriousness of a situation and
|
||
persuade the monarch to act. Furthermore, he will not take up the
|
||
standpoint that it must be left to His Majesty to act as the latter
|
||
thinks fit, even though the course which he would take must plainly lead
|
||
to disaster. But the man I am thinking of will deem it his duty to
|
||
protect the monarchy against the monarch himself, no matter what
|
||
personal risk he may run in doing so. If the worth of the monarchical
|
||
institution be dependent on the person of the monarch himself, then it
|
||
would be the worst institution imaginable; for only in rare cases are
|
||
kings found to be models of wisdom and understanding, and integrity of
|
||
character, though we might like to think otherwise. But this fact is
|
||
unpalatable to the professional knaves and lackeys. Yet all upright men,
|
||
and they are the backbone of the nation, repudiate the nonsensical
|
||
fiction that all monarchs are wise, etc. For such men history is history
|
||
and truth is truth, even where monarchs are concerned. But if a nation
|
||
should have the good luck to possess a great king or a great man it
|
||
ought to consider itself as specially favoured above all the other
|
||
nations, and these may be thankful if an adverse fortune has not
|
||
allotted the worst to them.
|
||
|
||
It is clear that the worth and significance of the monarchical principle
|
||
cannot rest in the person of the monarch alone, unless Heaven decrees
|
||
that the crown should be set on the head of a brilliant hero like
|
||
Frederick the Great, or a sagacious person like William I. This may
|
||
happen once in several centuries, but hardly oftener than that. The
|
||
ideal of the monarchy takes precedence of the person of the monarch,
|
||
inasmuch as the meaning of the institution must lie in the institution
|
||
it self. Thus the monarchy may be reckoned in the category of those
|
||
whose duty it is to serve. He, too, is but a wheel in this machine and
|
||
as such he is obliged to do his duty towards it. He has to adapt himself
|
||
for the fulfilment of high aims. If, therefore, there were no
|
||
significance attached to the idea itself and everything merely centred
|
||
around the 'sacred' person, then it would never be possible to depose a
|
||
ruler who has shown himself to be an imbecile.
|
||
|
||
It is essential to insist upon this truth at the present time, because
|
||
recently those phenomena have appeared again and were in no small
|
||
measure responsible for the collapse of the monarchy. With a certain
|
||
amount of native impudence these persons once again talk about 'their
|
||
King'--that is to say, the man whom they shamefully deserted a few years
|
||
ago at a most critical hour. Those who refrain from participating in
|
||
this chorus of lies are summarily classified as 'bad Germans'. They who
|
||
make the charge are the same class of quitters who ran away in 1918 and
|
||
took to wearing red badges. They thought that discretion was the better
|
||
part of valour. They were indifferent about what happened to the Kaiser.
|
||
They camouflaged themselves as 'peaceful citizens' but more often than
|
||
not they vanished altogether. All of a sudden these champions of royalty
|
||
were nowhere to be found at that time. Circumspectly, one by one, these
|
||
'servants and counsellors' of the Crown reappeared, to resume their
|
||
lip-service to royalty but only after others had borne the brunt of the
|
||
anti-royalist attack and suppressed the Revolution for them. Once again
|
||
they were all there. remembering wistfully the flesh-pots of Egypt and
|
||
almost bursting with devotion for the royal cause. This went on until
|
||
the day came when red badges were again in the ascendant. Then this
|
||
whole ramshackle assembly of royal worshippers scuttled anew like mice
|
||
from the cats.
|
||
|
||
If monarchs were not themselves responsible for such things one could
|
||
not help sympathizing with them. But they must realize that with such
|
||
champions thrones can be lost but certainly never gained.
|
||
|
||
All this devotion was a mistake and was the result of our whole system
|
||
of education, which in this case brought about a particularly severe
|
||
retribution. Such lamentable trumpery was kept up at the various courts
|
||
that the monarchy was slowly becoming under mined. When finally it did
|
||
begin to totter, everything was swept away. Naturally, grovellers and
|
||
lick-spittles are never willing to die for their masters. That monarchs
|
||
never realize this, and almost on principle never really take the
|
||
trouble to learn it, has always been their undoing.
|
||
|
||
One visible result of wrong educational system was the fear of
|
||
shouldering responsibility and the resultant weakness in dealing with
|
||
obvious vital problems of existence.
|
||
|
||
The starting point of this epidemic, however, was in our parliamentary
|
||
institution where the shirking of responsibility is particularly
|
||
fostered. Unfortunately the disease slowly spread to all branches of
|
||
everyday life but particularly affected the sphere of public affairs.
|
||
Responsibility was being shirked everywhere and this led to insufficient
|
||
or half-hearted measures being taken, personal responsibility for each
|
||
act being reduced to a minimum.
|
||
|
||
If we consider the attitude of various Governments towards a whole
|
||
series of really pernicious phenomena in public life, we shall at once
|
||
recognize the fearful significance of this policy of half-measures and
|
||
the lack of courage to undertake responsibilities. I shall single out
|
||
only a few from the large numbers of instances known to me.
|
||
|
||
In journalistic circles it is a pleasing custom to speak of the Press as
|
||
a 'Great Power' within the State. As a matter of fact its importance is
|
||
immense. One cannot easily overestimate it, for the Press continues the
|
||
work of education even in adult life. Generally, readers of the Press
|
||
can be classified into three groups:
|
||
|
||
First, those who believe everything they read;
|
||
|
||
Second, those who no longer believe anything;
|
||
|
||
Third, those who critically examine what they read and form their
|
||
judgments accordingly.
|
||
|
||
Numerically, the first group is by far the strongest, being composed of
|
||
the broad masses of the people. Intellectually, it forms the simplest
|
||
portion of the nation. It cannot be classified according to occupation
|
||
but only into grades of intelligence. Under this category come all those
|
||
who have not been born to think for themselves or who have not learnt to
|
||
do so and who, partly through incompetence and partly through ignorance,
|
||
believe everything that is set before them in print. To these we must
|
||
add that type of lazy individual who, although capable of thinking for
|
||
himself out of sheer laziness gratefully absorbs everything that others
|
||
had thought over, modestly believing this to have been thoroughly done.
|
||
The influence which the Press has on all these people is therefore
|
||
enormous; for after all they constitute the broad masses of a nation.
|
||
But, somehow they are not in a position or are not willing personally to
|
||
sift what is being served up to them; so that their whole attitude
|
||
towards daily problems is almost solely the result of extraneous
|
||
influence. All this can be advantageous where public enlightenment is of
|
||
a serious and truthful character, but great harm is done when scoundrels
|
||
and liars take a hand at this work.
|
||
|
||
The second group is numerically smaller, being partly composed of those
|
||
who were formerly in the first group and after a series of bitter
|
||
disappointments are now prepared to believe nothing of what they see in
|
||
print. They hate all newspapers. Either they do not read them at all or
|
||
they become exceptionally annoyed at their contents, which they hold to
|
||
be nothing but a congeries of lies and misstatements. These people are
|
||
difficult to handle; for they will always be sceptical of the truth.
|
||
Consequently, they are useless for any form of positive work.
|
||
|
||
The third group is easily the smallest, being composed of real
|
||
intellectuals whom natural aptitude and education have taught to think
|
||
for themselves and who in all things try to form their own judgments,
|
||
while at the same time carefully sifting what they read. They will not
|
||
read any newspaper without using their own intelligence to collaborate
|
||
with that of the writer and naturally this does not set writers an easy
|
||
task. Journalists appreciate this type of reader only with a certain
|
||
amount of reservation.
|
||
|
||
Hence the trash that newspapers are capable of serving up is of little
|
||
danger--much less of importance--to the members of the third group of
|
||
readers. In the majority of cases these readers have learnt to regard
|
||
every journalist as fundamentally a rogue who sometimes speaks the
|
||
truth. Most unfortunately, the value of these readers lies in their
|
||
intelligence and not in their numerical strength, an unhappy state of
|
||
affairs in a period where wisdom counts for nothing and majorities for
|
||
everything. Nowadays when the voting papers of the masses are the
|
||
deciding factor; the decision lies in the hands of the numerically
|
||
strongest group; that is to say the first group, the crowd of simpletons
|
||
and the credulous.
|
||
|
||
It is an all-important interest of the State and a national duty to
|
||
prevent these people from falling into the hands of false, ignorant or
|
||
even evil-minded teachers. Therefore it is the duty of the State to
|
||
supervise their education and prevent every form of offence in this
|
||
respect. Particular attention should be paid to the Press; for its
|
||
influence on these people is by far the strongest and most penetrating
|
||
of all; since its effect is not transitory but continual. Its immense
|
||
significance lies in the uniform and persistent repetition of its
|
||
teaching. Here, if anywhere, the State should never forget that all
|
||
means should converge towards the same end. It must not be led astray by
|
||
the will-o'-the-wisp of so-called 'freedom of the Press', or be talked
|
||
into neglecting its duty, and withholding from the nation that which is
|
||
good and which does good. With ruthless determination the State must
|
||
keep control of this instrument of popular education and place it at the
|
||
service of the State and the Nation.
|
||
|
||
But what sort of pabulum was it that the German Press served up for the
|
||
consumption of its readers in pre-War days? Was it not the worst
|
||
virulent poison imaginable? Was not pacifism in its worst form
|
||
inoculated into our people at a time when others were preparing slowly
|
||
but surely to pounce upon Germany? Did not this self-same Press of ours
|
||
in peace time already instil into the public mind a doubt as to the
|
||
sovereign rights of the State itself, thereby already handicapping the
|
||
State in choosing its means of defence? Was it not the German Press that
|
||
under stood how to make all the nonsensical talk about 'Western
|
||
democracy' palatable to our people, until an exuberant public was
|
||
eventually prepared to entrust its future to the League of Nations? Was
|
||
not this Press instrumental in bringing in a state of moral degradation
|
||
among our people? Were not morals and public decency made to look
|
||
ridiculous and classed as out-of-date and banal, until finally our
|
||
people also became modernized? By means of persistent attacks, did not
|
||
the Press keep on undermining the authority of the State, until one blow
|
||
sufficed to bring this institution tottering to the ground? Did not the
|
||
Press oppose with all its might every movement to give the State that
|
||
which belongs to the State, and by means of constant criticism, injure
|
||
the reputation of the army, sabotage general conscription and demand
|
||
refusal of military credits, etc.--until the success of this campaign
|
||
was assured?
|
||
|
||
The function of the so-called liberal Press was to dig the grave for the
|
||
German people and REICH. No mention need be made of the lying Marxist
|
||
Press. To them the spreading of falsehood is as much a vital necessity
|
||
as the mouse is to a cat. Their sole task is to break the national
|
||
backbone of the people, thus preparing the nation to become the slaves
|
||
of international finance and its masters, the Jews.
|
||
|
||
And what measures did the State take to counteract this wholesale
|
||
poisoning of the public mind? None, absolutely nothing at all. By this
|
||
policy it was hoped to win the favour of this pest--by means of
|
||
flattery, by a recognition of the 'value' of the Press, its
|
||
'importance', its 'educative mission' and similar nonsense. The Jews
|
||
acknowledged all this with a knowing smile and returned thanks.
|
||
|
||
The reason for this ignominious failure on the part of the State lay not
|
||
so much in its refusal to realize the danger as in the out-and-out
|
||
cowardly way of meeting the situation by the adoption of faulty and
|
||
ineffective measures. No one had the courage to employ any energetic and
|
||
radical methods. Everyone temporised in some way or other; and instead
|
||
of striking at its heart, the viper was only further irritated. The
|
||
result was that not only did everything remain as it was, but the power
|
||
of this institution which should have been combated grew greater from
|
||
year to year.
|
||
|
||
The defence put up by the Government in those days against a mainly
|
||
Jew-controlled Press that was slowly corrupting the nation, followed no
|
||
definite line of action, it had no determination behind it and above
|
||
all, no fixed objective whatsoever in view. This is where official
|
||
understanding of the situation completely failed both in estimating the
|
||
importance of the struggle, choosing the means and deciding on a
|
||
definite plan. They merely tinkered with the problem. Occasionally, when
|
||
bitten, they imprisoned one or another journalistic viper for a few
|
||
weeks or months, but the whole poisonous brood was allowed to carry on
|
||
in peace.
|
||
|
||
It must be admitted that all this was partly the result of extraordinary
|
||
crafty tactics on the part of Jewry on the one hand, and obvious
|
||
official stupidity or na<6E>vet<65> on the other hand. The Jews were too
|
||
clever to allow a simultaneous attack to be made on the whole of their
|
||
Press. No one section functioned as cover for the other. While the
|
||
Marxist newspaper, in the most despicable manner possible, reviled
|
||
everything that was sacred, furiously attacked the State and Government
|
||
and incited certain classes of the community against each other, the
|
||
bourgeois-democratic papers, also in Jewish hands, knew how to
|
||
camouflage themselves as model examples of objectivity. They studiously
|
||
avoided harsh language, knowing well that block-heads are capable of
|
||
judging only by external appearances and never able to penetrate to the
|
||
real depth and meaning of anything. They measure the worth of an object
|
||
by its exterior and not by its content. This form of human frailty was
|
||
carefully studied and understood by the Press.
|
||
|
||
For this class of blockheads the FRANKFURTER ZEITUNG would be
|
||
acknowledged as the essence of respectability. It always carefully
|
||
avoided calling a spade a spade. It deprecated the use of every form of
|
||
physical force and persistently appealed to the nobility of fighting
|
||
with 'intellectual' weapons. But this fight, curiously enough, was most
|
||
popular with the least intellectual classes. That is one of the results
|
||
of our defective education, which turns the youth away from the
|
||
instinctive dictates of Nature, pumps into them a certain amount of
|
||
knowledge without however being able to bring them to what is the
|
||
supreme act of knowing. To this end diligence and goodwill are of no
|
||
avail, if innate understanding fail. This final knowledge at which man
|
||
must aim is the understanding of causes which are instinctively
|
||
perceived.
|
||
|
||
Let me explain: Man must not fall into the error of thinking that he was
|
||
ever meant to become lord and master of Nature. A lopsided education has
|
||
helped to encourage that illusion. Man must realize that a fundamental
|
||
law of necessity reigns throughout the whole realm of Nature and that
|
||
his existence is subject to the law of eternal struggle and strife. He
|
||
will then feel that there cannot be a separate law for mankind in a
|
||
world in which planets and suns follow their orbits, where moons and
|
||
planets trace their destined paths, where the strong are always the
|
||
masters of the weak and where those subject to such laws must obey them
|
||
or be destroyed. Man must also submit to the eternal principles of this
|
||
supreme wisdom. He may try to understand them but he can never free
|
||
himself from their sway.
|
||
|
||
It is just for intellectual DEMI-MONDE that the Jew writes those papers
|
||
which he calls his 'intellectual' Press. For them the FRANKFURTER
|
||
ZEITUNG and BERLINER TAGEBLATT are written, the tone being adapted to
|
||
them, and it is over these people that such papers have an influence.
|
||
While studiously avoiding all forms of expression that might strike the
|
||
reader as crude, the poison is injected from other vials into the hearts
|
||
of the clientele. The effervescent tone and the fine phraseology lug the
|
||
readers into believing that a love for knowledge and moral principle is
|
||
the sole driving force that determines the policy of such papers,
|
||
whereas in reality these features represent a cunning way of disarming
|
||
any opposition that might be directed against the Jews and their Press.
|
||
|
||
They make such a parade of respectability that the imbecile readers are
|
||
all the more ready to believe that the excesses which other papers
|
||
indulge in are only of a mild nature and not such as to warrant legal
|
||
action being taken against them. Indeed such action might trespass on
|
||
the freedom of the Press, that expression being a euphemism under which
|
||
such papers escape legal punishment for deceiving the public and
|
||
poisoning the public mind. Hence the authorities are very slow indeed to
|
||
take any steps against these journalistic bandits for fear of
|
||
immediately alienating the sympathy of the so-called respectable Press.
|
||
A fear that is only too well founded, for the moment any attempt is made
|
||
to proceed against any member of the gutter press all the others rush to
|
||
its assistance at once, not indeed to support its policy but simply and
|
||
solely to defend the principle of freedom of the Press and liberty of
|
||
public opinion. This outcry will succeed in cowering the most stalwart;
|
||
for it comes from the mouth of what is called decent journalism.
|
||
|
||
And so this poison was allowed to enter the national bloodstream and
|
||
infect public life without the Government taking any effectual measures
|
||
to master the course of the disease. The ridiculous half-measures that
|
||
were taken were in themselves an indication of the process of
|
||
disintegration that was already threatening to break up the Empire. For
|
||
an institution practically surrenders its existence when it is no longer
|
||
determined to defend itself with all the weapons at its command. Every
|
||
half-measure is the outward expression of an internal process of decay
|
||
which must lead to an external collapse sooner or later.
|
||
|
||
I believe that our present generation would easily master this danger if
|
||
they were rightly led. For this generation has gone through certain
|
||
experiences which must have strengthened the nerves of all those who did
|
||
not become nervously broken by them. Certainly in days to come the Jews
|
||
will raise a tremendous cry throughout their newspapers once a hand is
|
||
laid on their favourite nest, once a move is made to put an end to this
|
||
scandalous Press and once this instrument which shapes public opinion is
|
||
brought under State control and no longer left in the hands of aliens
|
||
and enemies of the people. I am certain that this will be easier for us
|
||
than it was for our fathers. The scream of the twelve-inch shrapnel is
|
||
more penetrating than the hiss from a thousand Jewish newspaper vipers.
|
||
Therefore let them go on with their hissing.
|
||
|
||
A further example of the weak and hesitating way in which vital national
|
||
problems were dealt with in pre-War Germany is the following: Hand in
|
||
hand with the political and moral process of infecting the nation, for
|
||
many years an equally virulent process of infection had been attacking
|
||
the public health of the people. In large cities, particularly, syphilis
|
||
steadily increased and tuberculosis kept pace with it in reaping its
|
||
harvest of death almost in every part of the country.
|
||
|
||
Although in both cases the effect on the nation was alarming, it seemed
|
||
as if nobody was in a position to undertake any decisive measures
|
||
against these scourges.
|
||
|
||
In the case of syphilis especially the attitude of the State and public
|
||
bodies was one of absolute capitulation. To combat this state of affairs
|
||
something of far wider sweep should have been undertaken than was really
|
||
done. The discovery of a remedy which is of a questionable nature and
|
||
the excellent way in which it was placed on the market were only of
|
||
little assistance in fighting such a scourge. Here again the only course
|
||
to adopt is to attack the disease in its causes rather than in its
|
||
symptoms. But in this case the primary cause is to be found in the
|
||
manner in which love has been prostituted. Even though this did not
|
||
directly bring about the fearful disease itself, the nation must still
|
||
suffer serious damage thereby, for the moral havoc resulting from this
|
||
prostitution would be sufficient to bring about the destruction of the
|
||
nation, slowly but surely. This Judaizing of our spiritual life and
|
||
mammonizing of our natural instinct for procreation will sooner or later
|
||
work havoc with our whole posterity. For instead of strong, healthy
|
||
children, blessed with natural feelings, we shall see miserable
|
||
specimens of humanity resulting from economic calculation. For economic
|
||
considerations are becoming more and more the foundations of marriage
|
||
and the sole preliminary condition of it. And love looks for an outlet
|
||
elsewhere.
|
||
|
||
Here, as elsewhere, one may defy Nature for a certain period of time;
|
||
but sooner or later she will take her inexorable revenge. And when man
|
||
realizes this truth it is often too late.
|
||
|
||
Our own nobility furnishes an example of the devastating consequences
|
||
that follow from a persistent refusal to recognize the primary
|
||
conditions necessary for normal wedlock. Here we are openly brought face
|
||
to face with the results of those reproductive habits which on the one
|
||
hand are determined by social pressure and, on the other, by financial
|
||
considerations. The one leads to inherited debility and the other to
|
||
adulteration of the blood-strain; for all the Jewish daughters of the
|
||
department store proprietors are looked upon as eligible mates to
|
||
co-operate in propagating His Lordship's stock. And the stock certainly
|
||
looks it. All this leads to absolute degeneration. Nowadays our
|
||
bourgeoise are making efforts to follow in the same path, They will come
|
||
to the same journey's end.
|
||
|
||
These unpleasant truths are hastily and nonchalantly brushed aside, as
|
||
if by so doing the real state of affairs could also be abolished. But
|
||
no. It cannot be denied that the population of our great towns and
|
||
cities is tending more and more to avail of prostitution in the exercise
|
||
of its amorous instincts and is thus becoming more and more contaminated
|
||
by the scourge of venereal disease. On the one hand, the visible effects
|
||
of this mass-infection can be observed in our insane asylums and, on the
|
||
other hand, alas! among the children at home. These are the doleful and
|
||
tragic witnesses to the steadily increasing scourge that is poisoning
|
||
our sexual life. Their sufferings are the visible results of parental
|
||
vice.
|
||
|
||
There are many ways of becoming resigned to this unpleasant and terrible
|
||
fact. Many people go about seeing nothing or, to be more correct, not
|
||
wanting to see anything. This is by far the simplest and cheapest
|
||
attitude to adopt. Others cover themselves in the sacred mantle of
|
||
prudery, as ridiculous as it is false. They describe the whole condition
|
||
of affairs as sinful and are profoundly indignant when brought face to
|
||
face with a victim. They close their eyes in reverend abhorrence to this
|
||
godless scourge and pray to the Almighty that He--if possible after
|
||
their own death--may rain down fire and brimstone as on Sodom and
|
||
Gomorrah and so once again make an out standing example of this
|
||
shameless section of humanity. Finally, there are those who are well
|
||
aware of the terrible results which this scourge will and must bring
|
||
about, but they merely shrug their shoulders, fully convinced of their
|
||
inability to undertake anything against this peril. Hence matters are
|
||
allowed to take their own course.
|
||
|
||
Undoubtedly all this is very convenient and simple, only it must not be
|
||
overlooked that this convenient way of approaching things can have fatal
|
||
consequences for our national life. The excuse that other nations are
|
||
also not faring any better does not alter the fact of our own
|
||
deterioration, except that the feeling of sympathy for other stricken
|
||
nations makes our own suffering easier to bear. But the important
|
||
question that arises here is: Which nation will be the first to take the
|
||
initiative in mastering this scourge, and which nations will succumb to
|
||
it? This will be the final upshot of the whole situation. The present is
|
||
a period of probation for racial values. The race that fails to come
|
||
through the test will simply die out and its place will be taken by the
|
||
healthier and stronger races, which will be able to endure greater
|
||
hardships. As this problem primarily concerns posterity, it belongs to
|
||
that category of which it is said with terrible justification that the
|
||
sins of the fathers are visited on their offspring unto the tenth
|
||
generation. This is a consequence which follows on an infringement of
|
||
the laws of blood and race.
|
||
|
||
The sin against blood and race is the hereditary sin in this world and
|
||
it brings disaster on every nation that commits it.
|
||
|
||
The attitude towards this one vital problem in pre-War Germany was most
|
||
regrettable. What measures were undertaken to arrest the infection of
|
||
our youth in the large cities? What was done to put an end to the
|
||
contamination and mammonization of sexual life among us? What was done
|
||
to fight the resultant spreading of syphilis throughout the whole of our
|
||
national life? The reply to this question can best be illustrated by
|
||
showing what should have been done.
|
||
|
||
Instead of tackling this problem in a haphazard way, the authorities
|
||
should have realized that the fortunes or misfortunes of future
|
||
generations depended on its solution. But to admit this would have
|
||
demanded that active measures be carried out in a ruthless manner. The
|
||
primary condition would have been that the enlightened attention of the
|
||
whole country should be concentrated on this terrible danger, so that
|
||
every individual would realize the importance of fighting against it. It
|
||
would be futile to impose obligations of a definite character--which are
|
||
often difficult to bear--and expect them to become generally effective,
|
||
unless the public be thoroughly instructed on the necessity of imposing
|
||
and accepting such obligations. This demands a widespread and systematic
|
||
method of enlightenment and all other daily problems that might distract
|
||
public attention from this great central problem should be relegated to
|
||
the background.
|
||
|
||
In every case where there are exigencies or tasks that seem impossible
|
||
to deal with successfully public opinion must be concentrated on the one
|
||
problem, under the conviction that the solution of this problem alone is
|
||
a matter of life or death. Only in this way can public interest be
|
||
aroused to such a pitch as will urge people to combine in a great
|
||
voluntary effort and achieve important results.
|
||
|
||
This fundamental truth applies also to the individual, provided he is
|
||
desirous of attaining some great end. He must always concentrate his
|
||
efforts to one definitely limited stage of his progress which has to be
|
||
completed before the next step be attempted. Those who do not endeavour
|
||
to realize their aims step by step and who do not concentrate their
|
||
energy in reaching the individual stages, will never attain the final
|
||
objective. At some stage or other they will falter and fail. This
|
||
systematic way of approaching an objective is an art in itself, and
|
||
always calls for the expenditure of every ounce of energy in order to
|
||
conquer step after step of the road.
|
||
|
||
Therefore the most essential preliminary condition necessary for an
|
||
attack on such a difficult stage of the human road is that the
|
||
authorities should succeed in convincing the masses that the immediate
|
||
objective which is now being fought for is the only one that deserves to
|
||
be considered and the only one on which everything depends. The broad
|
||
masses are never able clearly to see the whole stretch of the road lying
|
||
in front of them without becoming tired and thus losing faith in their
|
||
ability to complete the task. To a certain extent they will keep the
|
||
objective in mind, but they are only able to survey the whole road in
|
||
small stages, as in the case of the traveller who knows where his
|
||
journey is going to end but who masters the endless stretch far better
|
||
by attacking it in degrees. Only in this way can he keep up his
|
||
determination to reach the final objective.
|
||
|
||
It is in this way, with the assistance of every form of propaganda, that
|
||
the problem of fighting venereal disease should be placed before the
|
||
public--not as a task for the nation but as THE main task. Every
|
||
possible means should be employed to bring the truth about this scourge
|
||
home to the minds of the people, until the whole nation has been
|
||
convinced that everything depends on the solution of this problem; that
|
||
is to say, a healthy future or national decay.
|
||
|
||
Only after such preparatory measures--if necessary spread over a period
|
||
of many years--will public attention and public resolution be fully
|
||
aroused, and only then can serious and definite measures be undertaken
|
||
without running the risk of not being fully understood or of being
|
||
suddenly faced with a slackening of the public will. It must be made
|
||
clear to all that a serious fight against this scourge calls for vast
|
||
sacrifices and an enormous amount of work.
|
||
|
||
To wage war against syphilis means fighting against prostitution,
|
||
against prejudice, against old-established customs, against current
|
||
fashion, public opinion, and, last but not least, against false prudery
|
||
in certain circles.
|
||
|
||
The first preliminary condition to be fulfilled before the State can
|
||
claim a moral right to fight against all these things is that the young
|
||
generation should be afforded facilities for contracting early
|
||
marriages. Late marriages have the sanction of a custom which, from
|
||
whatever angle we view it, is and will remain a disgrace to humanity.
|
||
|
||
Prostitution is a disgrace to humanity and cannot be removed simply by
|
||
charitable or academic methods. Its restriction and final extermination
|
||
presupposes the removal of a whole series of contributory circumstances.
|
||
The first remedy must always be to establish such conditions as will
|
||
make early marriages possible, especially for young men--for women are,
|
||
after all, only passive subjects in this matter.
|
||
|
||
An illustration of the extent to which people have so often been led
|
||
astray nowadays is afforded by the fact that not infrequently one hears
|
||
mothers in so-called 'better' circles openly expressing their
|
||
satisfaction at having found as a husband for their daughter a man who
|
||
has already sown his wild oats, etc. As there is usually so little
|
||
shortage in men of this type, the poor girl finds no difficulty in
|
||
getting a mate of this description, and the children of this marriage
|
||
are a visible result of such supposedly sensible unions.
|
||
|
||
When one realizes, apart from this, that every possible effort is being
|
||
made to hinder the process of procreation and that Nature is being
|
||
wilfully cheated of her rights, there remains really only one question:
|
||
Why is such an institution as marriage still in existence, and what are
|
||
its functions? Is it really nothing better than prostitution? Does our
|
||
duty to posterity no longer play any part? Or do people not realize the
|
||
nature of the curse they are inflicting on themselves and their
|
||
offspring by such criminally foolish neglect of one of the primary laws
|
||
of Nature? This is how civilized nations degenerate and gradually
|
||
perish.
|
||
|
||
Marriage is not an end in itself but must serve the greater end, which
|
||
is that of increasing and maintaining the human species and the race.
|
||
This is its only meaning and purpose.
|
||
|
||
This being admitted, then it is clear that the institution of marriage
|
||
must be judged by the manner in which its allotted function is
|
||
fulfilled. Therefore early marriages should be the rule, because thus
|
||
the young couple will still have that pristine force which is the
|
||
fountain head of a healthy posterity with unimpaired powers of
|
||
resistance. Of course early marriages cannot be made the rule unless a
|
||
whole series of social measures are first undertaken without which early
|
||
marriages cannot be even thought of. In other words, a solution of this
|
||
question, which seems a small problem in itself, cannot be brought about
|
||
without adopting radical measures to alter the social background. The
|
||
importance of such measures ought to be studied and properly estimated,
|
||
especially at a time when the so-called 'social' Republic has shown
|
||
itself unable to solve the housing problem and thus has made it
|
||
impossible for innumerable couples to get married. That sort of policy
|
||
prepares the way for the further advance of prostitution.
|
||
|
||
Another reason why early marriages are impossible is our nonsensical
|
||
method of regulating the scale of salaries, which pays far too little
|
||
attention to the problem of family support. Prostitution, therefore, can
|
||
only be really seriously tackled if, by means of a radical social
|
||
reform, early marriage is made easier than hitherto. This is the first
|
||
preliminary necessity for the solution of this problem.
|
||
|
||
Secondly, a whole series of false notions must be eradicated from our
|
||
system of bringing up and educating children--things which hitherto no
|
||
one seems to have worried about. In our present educational system a
|
||
balance will have to be established, first and foremost, between mental
|
||
instruction and physical training.
|
||
|
||
What is known as GYMNASIUM (Grammar School) to-day is a positive insult
|
||
to the Greek institution. Our system of education entirely loses sight
|
||
of the fact that in the long run a healthy mind can exist only in a
|
||
healthy body. This statement, with few exceptions, applies particularly
|
||
to the broad masses of the nation.
|
||
|
||
In the pre-War Germany there was a time when no one took the trouble to
|
||
think over this truth. Training of the body was criminally neglected,
|
||
the one-sided training of the mind being regarded as a sufficient
|
||
guarantee for the nation's greatness. This mistake was destined to show
|
||
its effects sooner than had been anticipated. It is not pure chance that
|
||
the Bolshevic teaching flourishes in those regions whose degenerate
|
||
population has been brought to the verge of starvation, as, for example,
|
||
in the case of Central Germany, Saxony, and the Ruhr Valley. In all
|
||
these districts there is a marked absence of any serious resistance,
|
||
even by the so-called intellectual classes, against this Jewish
|
||
contagion. And the simple reason is that the intellectual classes are
|
||
themselves physically degenerate, not through privation but through
|
||
education. The exclusive intellectualism of the education in vogue among
|
||
our upper classes makes them unfit for life's struggle at an epoch in
|
||
which physical force and not mind is the dominating factor. Thus they
|
||
are neither capable of maintaining themselves nor of making their way in
|
||
life. In nearly every case physical disability is the forerunner of
|
||
personal cowardice.
|
||
|
||
The extravagant emphasis laid on purely intellectual education and the
|
||
consequent neglect of physical training must necessarily lead to sexual
|
||
thoughts in early youth. Those boys whose constitutions have been
|
||
trained and hardened by sports and gymnastics are less prone to sexual
|
||
indulgence than those stay-at-homes who have been fed exclusively with
|
||
mental pabulum. Sound methods of education cannot, however, afford to
|
||
disregard this, and we must not forget that the expectations of a
|
||
healthy young man from a woman will differ from those of a weakling who
|
||
has been prematurely corrupted.
|
||
|
||
Thus in every branch of our education the day's curriculum must be
|
||
arranged so as to occupy a boy's free time in profitable development of
|
||
his physical powers. He has no right in those years to loaf about,
|
||
becoming a nuisance in public streets and in cinemas; but when his day's
|
||
work is done he ought to harden his young body so that his strength may
|
||
not be found wanting when the occasion arises. To prepare for this and
|
||
to carry it out should be the function of our educational system and not
|
||
exclusively to pump in knowledge or wisdom. Our school system must also
|
||
rid itself of the notion that the training of the body is a task that
|
||
should be left to the individual himself. There is no such thing as
|
||
allowing freedom of choice to sin against posterity and thus against the
|
||
race.
|
||
|
||
The fight against pollution of the mind must be waged simultaneously
|
||
with the training of the body. To-day the whole of our public life may
|
||
be compared to a hot-house for the forced growth of sexual notions and
|
||
incitements. A glance at the bill-of-fare provided by our cinemas,
|
||
playhouses, and theatres suffices to prove that this is not the right
|
||
food, especially for our young people. Hoardings and advertisements
|
||
kiosks combine to attract the public in the most vulgar manner. Anyone
|
||
who has not altogether lost contact with adolescent yearnings will
|
||
realize that all this must have very grave consequences. This seductive
|
||
and sensuous atmosphere puts notions into the heads of our youth which,
|
||
at their age, ought still to be unknown to them. Unfortunately, the
|
||
results of this kind of education can best be seen in our contemporary
|
||
youth who are prematurely grown up and therefore old before their time.
|
||
The law courts from time to time throw a distressing light on the
|
||
spiritual life of our 14- and 15-year old children. Who, therefore, will
|
||
be surprised to learn that venereal disease claims its victims at this
|
||
age? And is it not a frightful shame to see the number of physically
|
||
weak and intellectually spoiled young men who have been introduced to
|
||
the mysteries of marriage by the whores of the big cities?
|
||
|
||
No; those who want seriously to combat prostitution must first of all
|
||
assist in removing the spiritual conditions on which it thrives. They
|
||
will have to clean up the moral pollution of our city 'culture'
|
||
fearlessly and without regard for the outcry that will follow. If we do
|
||
not drag our youth out of the morass of their present environment they
|
||
will be engulfed by it. Those people who do not want to see these things
|
||
are deliberately encouraging them and are guilty of spreading the
|
||
effects of prostitution to the future--for the future belongs to our
|
||
young generation. This process of cleansing our 'Kultur' will have to be
|
||
applied in practically all spheres. The stage, art, literature, the
|
||
cinema, the Press and advertisement posters, all must have the stains of
|
||
pollution removed and be placed in the service of a national and
|
||
cultural idea. The life of the people must be freed from the
|
||
asphyxiating perfume of our modern eroticism and also from every unmanly
|
||
and prudish form of insincerity. In all these things the aim and the
|
||
method must be determined by thoughtful consideration for the
|
||
preservation of our national well-being in body and soul. The right to
|
||
personal freedom comes second in importance to the duty of maintaining
|
||
the race.
|
||
|
||
Only after such measures have been put into practice can a medical
|
||
campaign against this scourge begin with some hope of success. But, here
|
||
again, half-measures will be valueless. Far-reaching and important
|
||
decisions will have to be made. It would be doing things by halves if
|
||
incurables were given the opportunity of infecting one healthy person
|
||
after another. This would be that kind of humanitarianism which would
|
||
allow hundreds to perish in order to save the suffering of one
|
||
individual. The demand that it should be made impossible for defective
|
||
people to continue to propagate defective offspring is a demand that is
|
||
based on most reasonable grounds, and its proper fulfilment is the most
|
||
humane task that mankind has to face. Unhappy and undeserved suffering
|
||
in millions of cases will be spared, with the result that there will be
|
||
a gradual improvement in national health. A determined decision to act
|
||
in this manner will at the same time provide an obstacle against the
|
||
further spread of venereal disease. It would then be a case, where
|
||
necessary, of mercilessly isolating all incurables--perhaps a barbaric
|
||
measure for those unfortunates--but a blessing for the present
|
||
generation and for posterity. The temporary pain thus experienced in
|
||
this century can and will spare future thousands of generations from
|
||
suffering.
|
||
|
||
The fight against syphilis and its pace-maker, prostitution, is one of
|
||
the gigantic tasks of mankind; gigantic, because it is not merely a case
|
||
of solving a single problem but the removal of a whole series of evils
|
||
which are the contributory causes of this scourge. Disease of the body
|
||
in this case is merely the result of a diseased condition of the moral,
|
||
social, and racial instincts.
|
||
|
||
But if for reasons of indolence or cowardice this fight is not fought to
|
||
a finish we may imagine what conditions will be like 500 years hence.
|
||
Little of God's image will be left in human nature, except to mock the
|
||
Creator.
|
||
|
||
But what has been done in Germany to counteract this scourge? If we
|
||
think calmly over the answer we shall find it distressing. It is true
|
||
that in governmental circles the terrible and injurious effects of this
|
||
disease were well known, but the counter-measures which were officially
|
||
adopted were ineffective and a hopeless failure. They tinkered with
|
||
cures for the symptoms, wholly regardless of the cause of the disease.
|
||
Prostitutes were medically examined and controlled as far as possible,
|
||
and when signs of infection were apparent they were sent to hospital.
|
||
When outwardly cured, they were once more let loose on humanity.
|
||
|
||
It is true that 'protective legislation' was introduced which made
|
||
sexual intercourse a punishable offence for all those not completely
|
||
cured, or those suffering from venereal disease. This legislation was
|
||
correct in theory, but in practice it failed completely. In the first
|
||
place, in the majority of cases women will decline to appear in court as
|
||
witnesses against men who have robbed them of their health. Women would
|
||
be exposed far more than men to uncharitable remarks in such cases, and
|
||
one can imagine what their position would be if they had been infected
|
||
by their own husbands. Should women in that case lay a charge? Or what
|
||
should they do?
|
||
|
||
In the case of the man there is the additional fact that he frequently
|
||
is unfortunate enough to run up against this danger when he is under the
|
||
influence of alcohol. His condition makes it impossible for him to
|
||
assess the qualities of his 'amorous beauty,' a fact which is well known
|
||
to every diseased prostitute and makes them single out men in this ideal
|
||
condition for preference. The result is that the unfortunate man is not
|
||
able to recollect later on who his compassionate benefactress was, which
|
||
is not surprising in cities like Berlin and Munich. Many of such cases
|
||
are visitors from the provinces who, held speechless and enthralled by
|
||
the magic charm of city life, become an easy prey for prostitutes.
|
||
|
||
In the final analysis who is able to say whether he has been infected or
|
||
not?
|
||
|
||
Are there not innumerable cases on record where an apparently cured
|
||
person has a relapse and does untold harm without knowing it?
|
||
|
||
Therefore in practice the results of these legislative measures are
|
||
negative. The same applies to the control of prostitution, and, finally,
|
||
even medical treatment and cure are nowadays unsafe and doubtful. One
|
||
thing only is certain. The scourge has spread further and further in
|
||
spite of all measures, and this alone suffices definitely to stamp and
|
||
substantiate their inefficiency.
|
||
|
||
Everything else that was undertaken was just as inefficient as it was
|
||
absurd. The spiritual prostitution of the people was neither arrested
|
||
nor was anything whatsoever undertaken in this direction.
|
||
|
||
Those, however, who do not regard this subject as a serious one would do
|
||
well to examine the statistical data of the spread of this disease,
|
||
study its growth in the last century and contemplate the possibilities
|
||
of its further development. The ordinary observer, unless he were
|
||
particularly stupid, would experience a cold shudder if the position
|
||
were made clear to him.
|
||
|
||
The half-hearted and wavering attitude adopted in pre-War Germany
|
||
towards this iniquitous condition can assuredly be taken as a visible
|
||
sign of national decay. When the courage to fight for one's own health
|
||
is no longer in evidence, then the right to live in this world of
|
||
struggle also ceases.
|
||
|
||
One of the visible signs of decay in the old REICH was the slow setback
|
||
which the general cultural level experienced. But by 'Kultur' I do not
|
||
mean that which we nowadays style as civilization, which on the contrary
|
||
may rather be regarded as inimical to the spiritual elevation of life.
|
||
|
||
At the turn of the last century a new element began to make its
|
||
appearance in our world. It was an element which had been hitherto
|
||
absolutely unknown and foreign to us. In former times there had
|
||
certainly been offences against good taste; but these were mostly
|
||
departures from the orthodox canons of art, and posterity could
|
||
recognize a certain historical value in them. But the new products
|
||
showed signs, not only of artistic aberration but of spiritual
|
||
degeneration. Here, in the cultural sphere, the signs of the coming
|
||
collapse first became manifest.
|
||
|
||
The Bolshevization of art is the only cultural form of life and the only
|
||
spiritual manifestation of which Bolshevism is capable.
|
||
|
||
Anyone to whom this statement may appear strange need only take a glance
|
||
at those lucky States which have become Bolshevized and, to his horror,
|
||
he will there recognize those morbid monstrosities which have been
|
||
produced by insane and degenerate people. All those artistic aberrations
|
||
which are classified under the names of cubism and dadism, since the
|
||
opening of the present century, are manifestations of art which have
|
||
come to be officially recognized by the State itself. This phenomenon
|
||
made its appearance even during the short-lived period of the Soviet
|
||
Republic in Bavaria. At that time one might easily have recognized how
|
||
all the official posters, propagandist pictures and newspapers, etc.,
|
||
showed signs not only of political but also of cultural decadence.
|
||
|
||
About sixty years ago a political collapse such as we are experiencing
|
||
to-day would have been just as inconceivable as the cultural decline
|
||
which has been manifested in cubist and futurist pictures ever since
|
||
1900. Sixty years ago an exhibition of so-called dadistic 'experiences'
|
||
would have been an absolutely preposterous idea. The organizers of such
|
||
an exhibition would then have been certified for the lunatic asylum,
|
||
whereas, to-day they are appointed presidents of art societies. At that
|
||
time such an epidemic would never have been allowed to spread. Public
|
||
opinion would not have tolerated it, and the Government would not have
|
||
remained silent; for it is the duty of a Government to save its people
|
||
from being stampeded into such intellectual madness. But intellectual
|
||
madness would have resulted from a development that followed the
|
||
acceptance of this kind of art. It would have marked one of the worst
|
||
changes in human history; for it would have meant that a retrogressive
|
||
process had begun to take place in the human brain, the final stages of
|
||
which would be unthinkable.
|
||
|
||
If we study the course of our cultural life during the last twenty-five
|
||
years we shall be astonished to note how far we have already gone in
|
||
this process of retrogression. Everywhere we find the presence of those
|
||
germs which give rise to protuberant growths that must sooner or later
|
||
bring about the ruin of our culture. Here we find undoubted symptoms of
|
||
slow corruption; and woe to the nations that are no longer able to bring
|
||
that morbid process to a halt.
|
||
|
||
In almost all the various fields of German art and culture those morbid
|
||
phenomena may be observed. Here everything seems to have passed the
|
||
culminating point of its excellence and to have entered the curve of a
|
||
hasty decline. At the beginning of the century the theatres seemed
|
||
already degenerating and ceasing to be cultural factors, except the
|
||
Court theatres, which opposed this prostitution of the national art.
|
||
With these exceptions, and also a few other decent institutions, the
|
||
plays produced on the stage were of such a nature that the people would
|
||
have benefited by not visiting them at all. A sad symptom of decline was
|
||
manifested by the fact that in the case of many 'art centres' the sign
|
||
was posted on the entrance doors: FOR ADULTS ONLY.
|
||
|
||
Let it be borne in mind that these precautions had to be taken in regard
|
||
to institutions whose main purpose should have been to promote the
|
||
education of the youth and not merely to provide amusement for
|
||
sophisticated adults. What would the great dramatists of other times
|
||
have said of such measures and, above all, of the conditions which made
|
||
these measures necessary? How exasperated Schiller would have been, and
|
||
how Goethe would have turned away in disgust!
|
||
|
||
But what are Schiller, Goethe and Shakespeare when confronted with the
|
||
heroes of our modern German literature? Old and frowsy and outmoded and
|
||
finished. For it was typical of this epoch that not only were its own
|
||
products bad but that the authors of such products and their backers
|
||
reviled everything that had really been great in the past. This is a
|
||
phenomenon that is very characteristic of such epochs. The more vile and
|
||
miserable are the men and products of an epoch, the more they will hate
|
||
and denigrate the ideal achievements of former generations. What these
|
||
people would like best would be completely to destroy every vestige of
|
||
the past, in order to do away with that sole standard of comparison
|
||
which prevents their own daubs from being looked upon as art. Therefore
|
||
the more lamentable and wretched are the products of each new era, the
|
||
more it will try to obliterate all the memorials of the past. But any
|
||
real innovation that is for the benefit of mankind can always face
|
||
comparison with the best of what has gone before; and frequently it
|
||
happens that those monuments of the past guarantee the acceptance of
|
||
those modern productions. There is no fear that modern productions of
|
||
real worth will look pale and worthless beside the monuments of the
|
||
past. What is contributed to the general treasury of human culture often
|
||
fulfils a part that is necessary in order to keep the memory of old
|
||
achievements alive, because this memory alone is the standard whereby
|
||
our own works are properly appreciated. Only those who have nothing of
|
||
value to give to the world will oppose everything that already exists
|
||
and would have it destroyed at all costs.
|
||
|
||
And this holds good not only for new phenomena in the cultural domain
|
||
but also in politics. The more inferior new revolutionary movements are,
|
||
the more will they try to denigrate the old forms. Here again the desire
|
||
to pawn off their shoddy products as great and original achievements
|
||
leads them into a blind hatred against everything which belongs to the
|
||
past and which is superior to their own work. As long as the historical
|
||
memory of Frederick the Great, for instance, still lives, Frederick
|
||
Ebert can arouse only a problematic admiration. The relation of the hero
|
||
of Sans Souci to the former republican of Bremen may be compared to that
|
||
of the sun to the moon; for the moon can shine only after the direct
|
||
rays of the sun have left the earth. Thus we can readily understand why
|
||
it is that all the new moons in human history have hated the fixed
|
||
stars. In the field of politics, if Fate should happen temporarily to
|
||
place the ruling power in the hands of those nonentities they are not
|
||
only eager to defile and revile the past but at the same time they will
|
||
use all means to evade criticism of their own acts. The Law for the
|
||
Protection of the Republic, which the new German State enacted, may be
|
||
taken as one example of this truth.
|
||
|
||
One has good grounds to be suspicious in regard to any new idea, or any
|
||
doctrine or philosophy, any political or economical movement, which
|
||
tries to deny everything that the past has produced or to present it as
|
||
inferior and worthless. Any renovation which is really beneficial to
|
||
human progress will always have to begin its constructive work at the
|
||
level where the last stones of the structure have been laid. It need not
|
||
blush to utilize those truths which have already been established; for
|
||
all human culture, as well as man himself, is only the result of one
|
||
long line of development, where each generation has contributed but one
|
||
stone to the building of the whole structure. The meaning and purpose of
|
||
revolutions cannot be to tear down the whole building but to take away
|
||
what has not been well fitted into it or is unsuitable, and to rebuild
|
||
the free space thus caused, after which the main construction of the
|
||
building will be carried on.
|
||
|
||
Thus alone will it be possible to talk of human progress; for otherwise
|
||
the world would never be free of chaos, since each generation would feel
|
||
entitled to reject the past and to destroy all the work of the past, as
|
||
the necessary preliminary to any new work of its own.
|
||
|
||
The saddest feature of the condition in which our whole civilization
|
||
found itself before the War was the fact that it was not only barren of
|
||
any creative force to produce its own works of art and civilization but
|
||
that it hated, defiled and tried to efface the memory of the superior
|
||
works produced in the past. About the end of the last century people
|
||
were less interested in producing new significant works of their
|
||
own--particularly in the fields of dramatic art and literature--than in
|
||
defaming the best works of the past and in presenting them as inferior
|
||
and antiquated. As if this period of disgraceful decadence had the
|
||
slightest capacity to produce anything of superior quality! The efforts
|
||
made to conceal the past from the eyes of the present afforded clear
|
||
evidence of the fact that these apostles of the future acted from an
|
||
evil intent. These symptoms should have made it clear to all that it was
|
||
not a question of new, though wrong, cultural ideas but of a process
|
||
which was undermining the very foundations of civilization. It threw the
|
||
artistic feeling which had hitherto been quite sane into utter
|
||
confusion, thus spiritually preparing the way for political Bolshevism.
|
||
If the creative spirit of the Periclean age be manifested in the
|
||
Parthenon, then the Bolshevist era is manifested through its cubist
|
||
grimace.
|
||
|
||
In this connection attention must be drawn once again to the want of
|
||
courage displayed by one section of our people, namely, by those who, in
|
||
virtue of their education and position, ought to have felt themselves
|
||
obliged to take up a firm stand against this outrage on our culture. But
|
||
they refrained from offering serious resistance and surrendered to what
|
||
they considered the inevitable. This abdication of theirs was due,
|
||
however, to sheer funk lest the apostles of Bolshevist art might raise a
|
||
rumpus; for those apostles always violently attacked everyone who was
|
||
not ready to recognize them as the choice spirits of artistic creation,
|
||
and they tried to strangle all opposition by saying that it was the
|
||
product of philistine and backwater minds. People trembled in fear lest
|
||
they might be accused by these yahoos and swindlers of lacking artistic
|
||
appreciation, as if it would have been a disgrace not to be able to
|
||
understand and appreciate the effusions of those mental degenerates or
|
||
arrant rogues. Those cultural disciples, however, had a very simple way
|
||
of presenting their own effusions as works of the highest quality. They
|
||
offered incomprehensible and manifestly crazy productions to their
|
||
amazed contemporaries as what they called 'an inner experience'. Thus
|
||
they forestalled all adverse criticism at very little cost indeed. Of
|
||
course nobody ever doubted that there could have been inner experiences
|
||
like that, but some doubt ought to have arisen as to whether or not
|
||
there was any justification for exposing these hallucinations of
|
||
psychopaths or criminals to the sane portion of human society. The works
|
||
produced by a Moritz von Schwind or a B<>cklin were also externalizations
|
||
of an inner experience, but these were the experiences of divinely
|
||
gifted artists and not of buffoons.
|
||
|
||
This situation afforded a good opportunity of studying the miserable
|
||
cowardliness of our so-called intellectuals who shirked the duty of
|
||
offering serious resistance to the poisoning of the sound instincts of
|
||
our people. They left it to the people themselves to formulate their own
|
||
attitude towards his impudent nonsense. Lest they might be considered as
|
||
understanding nothing of art, they accepted every caricature of art,
|
||
until they finally lost the power of judging what is really good or bad.
|
||
|
||
Taken all in all, there were superabundant symptoms to show that a
|
||
diseased epoch had begun.
|
||
|
||
Still another critical symptom has to be considered. In the course of
|
||
the nineteenth century our towns and cities began more and more to lose
|
||
their character as centres of civilization and became more and more
|
||
centres of habitation. In our great modern cities the proletariat does
|
||
not show much attachment to the place where it lives. This feeling
|
||
results from the fact that their dwelling-place is nothing but an
|
||
accidental abode, and that feeling is also partly due to the frequent
|
||
change of residence which is forced upon them by social conditions.
|
||
There is no time for the growth of any attachment to the town in which
|
||
they live. But another reason lies in the cultural barrenness and
|
||
superficiality of our modern cities. At the time of the German Wars of
|
||
Liberation our German towns and cities were not only small in number but
|
||
also very modest in size. The few that could really be called great
|
||
cities were mostly the residential cities of princes; as such they had
|
||
almost always a definite cultural value and also a definite cultural
|
||
aspect. Those few towns which had more than fifty thousand inhabitants
|
||
were, in comparison with modern cities of the same size, rich in
|
||
scientific and artistic treasures. At the time when Munich had not more
|
||
than sixty thousand souls it was already well on the way to become one
|
||
of the first German centres of art. Nowadays almost every industrial
|
||
town has a population at least as large as that, without having anything
|
||
of real value to call its own. They are agglomerations of tenement
|
||
houses and congested dwelling barracks, and nothing else. It would be a
|
||
miracle if anybody should grow sentimentally attached to such a
|
||
meaningless place. Nobody can grow attached to a place which offers only
|
||
just as much or as little as any other place would offer, which has no
|
||
character of its own and where obviously pains have been taken to avoid
|
||
everything that might have any resemblance to an artistic appearance.
|
||
|
||
But this is not all. Even the great cities become more barren of real
|
||
works of art the more they increase in population. They assume more and
|
||
more a neutral atmosphere and present the same aspect, though on a
|
||
larger scale, as the wretched little factory towns. Everything that our
|
||
modern age has contributed to the civilization of our great cities is
|
||
absolutely deficient. All our towns are living on the glory and the
|
||
treasures of the past. If we take away from the Munich of to-day
|
||
everything that was created under Ludwig II we should be horror-stricken
|
||
to see how meagre has been the output of important artistic creations
|
||
since that time. One might say much the same of Berlin and most of our
|
||
other great towns.
|
||
|
||
But the following is the essential thing to be noticed: Our great modern
|
||
cities have no outstanding monuments that dominate the general aspect of
|
||
the city and could be pointed to as the symbols of a whole epoch. Yet
|
||
almost every ancient town had a monument erected to its glory. It was
|
||
not in private dwellings that the characteristic art of ancient cities
|
||
was displayed but in the public monuments, which were not meant to have
|
||
a transitory interest but an enduring one. And this was because they did
|
||
not represent the wealth of some individual citizen but the greatness
|
||
and importance of the community. It was under this inspiration that
|
||
those monuments arose which bound the individual inhabitants to their
|
||
own town in a manner that is often almost incomprehensible to us to-day.
|
||
What struck the eye of the individual citizen was not a number of
|
||
mediocre private buildings, but imposing structures that belonged to the
|
||
whole community. In contradistinction to these, private dwellings were
|
||
of only very secondary importance indeed.
|
||
|
||
When we compare the size of those ancient public buildings with that of
|
||
the private dwellings belonging to the same epoch then we can understand
|
||
the great importance which was given to the principle that those works
|
||
which reflected and affected the life of the community should take
|
||
precedence of all others.
|
||
|
||
Among the broken arches and vast spaces that are covered with ruins from
|
||
the ancient world the colossal riches that still arouse our wonder have
|
||
not been left to us from the commercial palaces of these days but from
|
||
the temples of the Gods and the public edifices that belonged to the
|
||
State. The community itself was the owner of those great edifices. Even
|
||
in the pomp of Rome during the decadence it was not the villas and
|
||
palaces of some citizens that filled the most prominent place but rather
|
||
the temples and the baths, the stadia, the circuses, the aqueducts, the
|
||
basilicas, etc., which belonged to the State and therefore to the people
|
||
as a whole.
|
||
|
||
In medieval Germany also the same principle held sway, although the
|
||
artistic outlook was quite different. In ancient times the theme that
|
||
found its expression in the Acropolis or the Pantheon was now clothed in
|
||
the forms of the Gothic Cathedral. In the medieval cities these
|
||
monumental structures towered gigantically above the swarm of smaller
|
||
buildings with their framework walls of wood and brick. And they remain
|
||
the dominant feature of these cities even to our own day, although they
|
||
are becoming more and more obscured by the apartment barracks. They
|
||
determine the character and appearance of the locality. Cathedrals,
|
||
city-halls, corn exchanges, defence towers, are the outward expression
|
||
of an idea which has its counterpart only in the ancient world.
|
||
|
||
The dimensions and quality of our public buildings to-day are in
|
||
deplorable contrast to the edifices that represent private interests. If
|
||
a similar fate should befall Berlin as befell Rome future generations
|
||
might gaze upon the ruins of some Jewish department stores or
|
||
joint-stock hotels and think that these were the characteristic
|
||
expressions of the culture of our time. In Berlin itself, compare the
|
||
shameful disproportion between the buildings which belong to the REICH
|
||
and those which have been erected for the accommodation of trade and
|
||
finance.
|
||
|
||
The credits that are voted for public buildings are in most cases
|
||
inadequate and really ridiculous. They are not built as structures that
|
||
were meant to last but mostly for the purpose of answering the need of
|
||
the moment. No higher idea influenced those who commissioned such
|
||
buildings. At the time the Berlin Schloss was built it had a quite
|
||
different significance from what the new library has for our time,
|
||
seeing that one battleship alone represents an expenditure of about
|
||
sixty million marks, whereas less than half that sum was allotted for
|
||
the building of the Reichstag, which is the most imposing structure
|
||
erected for the REICH and which should have been built to last for ages.
|
||
Yet, in deciding the question of internal decoration, the Upper House
|
||
voted against the use of stone and ordered that the walls should be
|
||
covered with stucco. For once, however, the parliamentarians made an
|
||
appropriate decision on that occasion; for plaster heads would be out of
|
||
place between stone walls.
|
||
|
||
The community as such is not the dominant characteristic of our
|
||
contemporary cities, and therefore it is not to be wondered at if the
|
||
community does not find itself architecturally represented. Thus we must
|
||
eventually arrive at a veritable civic desert which will at last be
|
||
reflected in the total indifference of the individual citizen towards
|
||
his own country.
|
||
|
||
This is also a sign of our cultural decay and general break-up. Our era
|
||
is entirely preoccupied with little things which are to no purpose, or
|
||
rather it is entirely preoccupied in the service of money. Therefore it
|
||
is not to be wondered at if, with the worship of such an idol, the sense
|
||
of heroism should entirely disappear. But the present is only reaping
|
||
what the past has sown.
|
||
|
||
All these symptoms which preceded the final collapse of the Second
|
||
Empire must be attributed to the lack of a definite and uniformly
|
||
accepted WELTANSCHAUUNG and the general uncertainty of outlook
|
||
consequent on that lack. This uncertainty showed itself when the great
|
||
questions of the time had to be considered one after another and a
|
||
decisive policy adopted towards them. This lack is also accountable for
|
||
the habit of doing everything by halves, beginning with the educational
|
||
system, the shilly-shally, the reluctance to undertake responsibilites
|
||
and, finally, the cowardly tolerance of evils that were even admitted to
|
||
be destructive. Visionary humanitarianisms became the fashion. In weakly
|
||
submitting to these aberrations and sparing the feelings of the
|
||
individual, the future of millions of human beings was sacrificed.
|
||
|
||
An examination of the religious situation before the War shows that the
|
||
general process of disruption had extended to this sphere also. A great
|
||
part of the nation itself had for a long time already ceased to have any
|
||
convictions of a uniform and practical character in their ideological
|
||
outlook on life. In this matter the point of primary importance was by
|
||
no means the number of people who renounced their church membership but
|
||
rather the widespread indifference. While the two Christian
|
||
denominations maintained missions in Asia and Africa, for the purpose of
|
||
securing new adherents to the Faith, these same denominations were
|
||
losing millions and millions of their adherents at home in Europe. These
|
||
former adherents either gave up religion wholly as a directive force in
|
||
their lives or they adopted their own interpretation of it. The
|
||
consequences of this were specially felt in the moral life of the
|
||
country. In parenthesis it may be remarked that the progress made by the
|
||
missions in spreading the Christian Faith abroad was only quite modest
|
||
in comparison with the spread of Mohammedanism.
|
||
|
||
It must be noted too that the attack on the dogmatic principles
|
||
underlying ecclesiastical teaching increased steadily in violence. And
|
||
yet this human world of ours would be inconceivable without the
|
||
practical existence of a religious belief. The great masses of a nation
|
||
are not composed of philosophers. For the masses of the people,
|
||
especially faith is absolutely the only basis of a moral outlook on
|
||
life. The various substitutes that have been offered have not shown any
|
||
results that might warrant us in thinking that they might usefully
|
||
replace the existing denominations. But if religious teaching and
|
||
religious faith were once accepted by the broad masses as active forces
|
||
in their lives, then the absolute authority of the doctrines of faith
|
||
would be the foundation of all practical effort. There may be a few
|
||
hundreds of thousands of superior men who can live wisely and
|
||
intelligently without depending on the general standards that prevail in
|
||
everyday life, but the millions of others cannot do so. Now the place
|
||
which general custom fills in everyday life corresponds to that of
|
||
general laws in the State and dogma in religion. The purely spiritual
|
||
idea is of itself a changeable thing that may be subjected to endless
|
||
interpretations. It is only through dogma that it is given a precise and
|
||
concrete form without which it could not become a living faith.
|
||
Otherwise the spiritual idea would never become anything more than a
|
||
mere metaphysical concept, or rather a philosophical opinion.
|
||
Accordingly the attack against dogma is comparable to an attack against
|
||
the general laws on which the State is founded. And so this attack would
|
||
finally lead to complete political anarchy if it were successful, just
|
||
as the attack on religion would lead to a worthless religious nihilism.
|
||
|
||
The political leader should not estimate the worth of a religion by
|
||
taking some of its shortcomings into account, but he should ask himself
|
||
whether there be any practical substitute in a view which is
|
||
demonstrably better. Until such a substitute be available only fools and
|
||
criminals would think of abolishing the existing religion.
|
||
|
||
Undoubtedly no small amount of blame for the present unsatisfactory
|
||
religious situation must be attributed to those who have encumbered the
|
||
ideal of religion with purely material accessories and have thus given
|
||
rise to an utterly futile conflict between religion and science. In this
|
||
conflict victory will nearly always be on the side of science, even
|
||
though after a bitter struggle, while religion will suffer heavily in
|
||
the eyes of those who cannot penetrate beneath the mere superficial
|
||
aspects of science.
|
||
|
||
But the greatest damage of all has come from the practice of debasing
|
||
religion as a means that can be exploited to serve political interests,
|
||
or rather commercial interests. The impudent and loud-mouthed liars who
|
||
do this make their profession of faith before the whole world in
|
||
stentorian tones so that all poor mortals may hear--not that they are
|
||
ready to die for it if necessary but rather that they may live all the
|
||
better. They are ready to sell their faith for any political QUID PRO
|
||
QUO. For ten parliamentary mandates they would ally themselves with the
|
||
Marxists, who are the mortal foes of all religion. And for a seat in the
|
||
Cabinet they would go the length of wedlock with the devil, if the
|
||
latter had not still retained some traces of decency.
|
||
|
||
If religious life in pre-war Germany had a disagreeable savour for the
|
||
mouths of many people this was because Christianity had been lowered to
|
||
base uses by political parties that called themselves Christian and
|
||
because of the shameful way in which they tried to identify the Catholic
|
||
Faith with a political party.
|
||
|
||
This substitution was fatal. It procured some worthless parliamentary
|
||
mandates for the party in question, but the Church suffered damage
|
||
thereby.
|
||
|
||
The consequences of that situation had to be borne by the whole nation;
|
||
for the laxity that resulted in religious life set in at a juncture when
|
||
everything was beginning to lose hold and vacillate and the traditional
|
||
foundations of custom and of morality were threatening to fall asunder.
|
||
|
||
Yet all those cracks and clefts in the social organism might not have
|
||
been dangerous if no grave burdens had been laid upon it; but they
|
||
became disastrous when the internal solidarity of the nation was the
|
||
most important factor in withstanding the storm of big events.
|
||
|
||
In the political field also observant eyes might have noticed certain
|
||
anomalies of the REICH which foretold disaster unless some alteration
|
||
and correction took place in time. The lack of orientation in German
|
||
policy, both domestic and foreign, was obvious to everyone who was not
|
||
purposely blind. The best thing that could be said about the practice of
|
||
making compromises is that it seemed outwardly to be in harmony with
|
||
Bismarck's axiom that 'politics is the art of the possible'. But
|
||
Bismarck was a slightly different man from the Chancellors who followed
|
||
him. This difference allowed the former to apply that formula to the
|
||
very essence of his policy, while in the mouths of the others it took on
|
||
an utterly different significance. When he uttered that phrase Bismarck
|
||
meant to say that in order to attain a definite political end all
|
||
possible means should be employed or at least that all possibilities
|
||
should be tried. But his successors see in that phrase only a solemn
|
||
declaration that one is not necessarily bound to have political
|
||
principles or any definite political aims at all. And the political
|
||
leaders of the REICH at that time had no far-seeing policy. Here, again,
|
||
the necessary foundation was lacking, namely, a definite
|
||
WELTANSCHAUUNG, and these leaders also lacked that clear insight into
|
||
the laws of political evolution which is a necessary quality in
|
||
political leadership.
|
||
|
||
Many people who took a gloomy view of things at that time condemned the
|
||
lack of ideas and lack of orientation which were evident in directing
|
||
the policy of the REICH. They recognized the inner weakness and futility
|
||
of this policy. But such people played only a secondary role in
|
||
politics. Those who had the Government of the country in their hands
|
||
were quite as indifferent to principles of civil wisdom laid down by
|
||
thinkers like Houston Stewart Chamberlain as our political leaders now
|
||
are. These people are too stupid to think for themselves, and they have
|
||
too much self-conceit to take from others the instruction which they
|
||
need. Oxenstierna (Note 14a) gave expression to a truth which has lasted
|
||
since time immemorial, when he said that the world is governed by only a
|
||
particle of wisdom. Almost every civil servant of councillor rank might
|
||
naturally be supposed to possess only an atom or so belonging to this
|
||
particle. But since Germany became a Republic even this modicum is
|
||
wanting. And that is why they had to promulgate the Law for the Defence
|
||
of the Republic, which prohibits the holding of such views or expressing
|
||
them. It was fortunate for Oxenstierna that he lived at that time and
|
||
not in this wise Republic of our time.
|
||
|
||
[Note 14a. Swedish Chancellor who took over the reins of Government after
|
||
the death of Gustavus Adolphus]
|
||
|
||
Already before the War that institution which should have represented
|
||
the strength of the Reich--the Parliament, the Reichstag--was widely
|
||
recognized as its weakest feature. Cowardliness and fear of shouldering
|
||
responsibilities were associated together there in a perfect fashion.
|
||
|
||
One of the silliest notions that one hears expressed to-day is that in
|
||
Germany the parliamentary institution has ceased to function since the
|
||
Revolution. This might easily be taken to imply that the case was
|
||
different before the Revolution. But in reality the parliamentary
|
||
institution never functioned except to the detriment of the country. And
|
||
it functioned thus in those days when people saw nothing or did not wish
|
||
to see anything. The German downfall is to be attributed in no small
|
||
degree to this institution. But that the catastrophe did not take place
|
||
sooner is not to be credited to the Parliament but rather to those who
|
||
opposed the influence of this institution which, during peace times, was
|
||
digging the grave of the German Nation and the German REICH.
|
||
|
||
From the immense mass of devastating evils that were due either directly
|
||
or indirectly to the Parliament I shall select one the most intimately
|
||
typical of this institution which was the most irresponsible of all
|
||
time. The evil I speak of was seen in the appalling shilly-shally and
|
||
weakness in conducting the internal and external affairs of the REICH.
|
||
It was attributable in the first place to the action of the Reichstag
|
||
and was one of the principal causes of the political collapse.
|
||
|
||
Everything subject to the influence of Parliament was done by halves, no
|
||
matter from what aspect you may regard it.
|
||
|
||
The foreign policy of the REICH in the matter of alliances was an
|
||
example of shilly-shally. They wished to maintain peace, but in doing so
|
||
they steered straight. into war.
|
||
|
||
Their Polish policy was also carried out by half-measures. It resulted
|
||
neither in a German triumph nor Polish conciliation, and it made enemies
|
||
of the Russians.
|
||
|
||
They tried to solve the Alsace-Lorraine question through half-measures.
|
||
Instead of crushing the head of the French hydra once and for all with
|
||
the mailed fist and granting Alsace-Lorraine equal rights with the other
|
||
German States, they did neither the one nor the other. Anyhow, it was
|
||
impossible for them to do otherwise, for they had among their ranks the
|
||
greatest traitors to the country, such as Herr Wetterl<72> of the Centre
|
||
Party.
|
||
|
||
But still the country might have been able to bear with all this
|
||
provided the half-measure policy had not victimized that force in which,
|
||
as the last resort, the existence of the Empire depended: namely, the
|
||
Army.
|
||
|
||
The crime committed by the so-called German Reichstag in this regard was
|
||
sufficient of itself to draw down upon it the curses of the German
|
||
Nation for all time. On the most miserable of pretexts these
|
||
parliamentary party henchmen filched from the hands of the nation and
|
||
threw away the weapons which were needed to maintain its existence and
|
||
therewith defend the liberty and independence of our people. If the
|
||
graves on the plains of Flanders were to open to-day the bloodstained
|
||
accusers would arise, hundreds of thousands of our best German youth who
|
||
were driven into the arms of death by those conscienceless parliamentary
|
||
ruffians who were either wrongly educated for their task or only
|
||
half-educated. Those youths, and other millions of the killed and
|
||
mutilated, were lost to the Fatherland simply and solely in order that a
|
||
few hundred deceivers of the people might carry out their political
|
||
manoeuvres and their exactions or even treasonably pursue their
|
||
doctrinaire theories.
|
||
|
||
By means of the Marxist and democratic Press, the Jews spread the
|
||
colossal falsehood about 'German Militarism' throughout the world and
|
||
tried to inculpate Germany by every possible means, while at the same
|
||
time the Marxist and democratic parties refused to assent to the
|
||
measures that were necessary for the adequate training of our national
|
||
defence forces. The appalling crime thus committed by these people ought
|
||
to have been obvious to everybody who foresaw that in case of war the
|
||
whole nation would have to be called to arms and that, because of the
|
||
mean huckstering of these noble 'representatives of the people', as they
|
||
called themselves, millions of Germans would have to face the enemy
|
||
ill-equipped and insufficiently trained. But even apart from the
|
||
consequences of the crude and brutal lack of conscience which these
|
||
parliamentarian rascals displayed, it was quite clear that the lack of
|
||
properly trained soldiers at the beginning of a war would most probably
|
||
lead to the loss of such a war; and this probability was confirmed in a
|
||
most terrible way during the course of the world war.
|
||
|
||
Therefore the German people lost the struggle for the freedom and
|
||
independence of their country because of the half-hearted and defective
|
||
policy employed during times of peace in the organization and training
|
||
of the defensive strength of the nation.
|
||
|
||
The number of recruits trained for the land forces was too small; but
|
||
the same half-heartedness was shown in regard to the navy and made this
|
||
weapon of national self-preservation more or less ineffective.
|
||
Unfortunately, even the naval authorities themselves were contaminated
|
||
with this spirit of half-heartedness. The tendency to build the ship on
|
||
the stocks somewhat smaller than that just launched by the British did
|
||
not show much foresight and less genius. A fleet which cannot be brought
|
||
to the same numerical strength as that of the probable enemy ought to
|
||
compensate for this inferiority by the superior fighting power of the
|
||
individual ship. It is the weight of the fighting power that counts and
|
||
not any sort of traditional quality. As a matter of fact, modern
|
||
technical development is so advanced and so well proportioned among the
|
||
various civilized States that it must be looked on as practically
|
||
impossible for one Power to build vessels which would have a superior
|
||
fighting quality to that of the vessels of equal size built by the other
|
||
Powers. But it is even less feasible to build vessels of smaller
|
||
displacement which will be superior in action to those of larger
|
||
displacement.
|
||
|
||
As a matter of fact, the smaller proportions of the German vessels could
|
||
be maintained only at the expense of speed and armament. The phrase used
|
||
to justify this policy was in itself an evidence of the lack of logical
|
||
thinking on the part of the naval authorities who were in charge of
|
||
these matters in times of peace. They declared that the German guns were
|
||
definitely superior to the British 30.5 cm. as regards striking
|
||
efficiency.
|
||
|
||
But that was just why they should have adopted the policy of building
|
||
30.5 cm. guns also; for it ought to have been their object not to
|
||
achieve equality but superiority in fighting strength. If that were not
|
||
so then it would have been superfluous to equip the land forces with 42
|
||
cm. mortars; for the German 21 cm. mortar could be far superior to any
|
||
high-angle guns which the French possessed at that time and since the
|
||
fortresses could probably have been taken by means of 30.5 cm. mortars.
|
||
The army authorities unfortunately failed to do so. If they refrained
|
||
from assuring superior efficiency in the artillery as in the velocity,
|
||
this was because of the fundamentally false 'principle of risk' which
|
||
they adopted. The naval authorities, already in times of peace,
|
||
renounced the principle of attack and thus had to follow a defensive
|
||
policy from the very beginning of the War. But by this attitude they
|
||
renounced also the chances of final success, which can be achieved only
|
||
by an offensive policy.
|
||
|
||
A vessel with slower speed and weaker armament will be crippled and
|
||
battered by an adversary that is faster and stronger and can frequently
|
||
shoot from a favourable distance. A large number of cruisers have been
|
||
through bitter experiences in this matter. How wrong were the ideas
|
||
prevalent among the naval authorities in times of peace was proved
|
||
during the War. They were compelled to modify the armament of the old
|
||
vessels and to equip the new ones with better armament whenever there
|
||
was a chance to do so. If the German vessels in the Battle of the
|
||
Skagerrak had been of equal size, the same armament and the same speed
|
||
as the English, the British Fleet would have gone down under the tempest
|
||
of the German 38 centimeter shells, which hit their aims more accurately
|
||
and were more effective.
|
||
|
||
Japan had followed a different kind of naval policy. There, care was
|
||
principally taken to create with every single new vessel a fighting
|
||
force that would be superior to those of the eventual adversaries. But,
|
||
because of this policy, it was afterwards possible to use the fleet for
|
||
the offensive.
|
||
|
||
While the army authorities refused to adopt such fundamentally erroneous
|
||
principles, the navy--which unfortunately had more representatives in
|
||
Parliament--succumbed to the spirit that ruled there. The navy was not
|
||
organized on a strong basis, and it was later used in an unsystematic
|
||
and irresolute way. The immortal glory which the navy won, in spite of
|
||
these drawbacks, must be entirely credited to the good work and the
|
||
efficiency and incomparable heroism of officers and crews. If the former
|
||
commanders-in-chief had been inspired with the same kind of genius all
|
||
the sacrifices would not have been in vain.
|
||
|
||
It was probably the very parliamentarian skill displayed by the chief of
|
||
the navy during the years of peace which later became the cause of the
|
||
fatal collapse, since parliamentarian considerations had begun to play a
|
||
more important role in the construction of the navy than fighting
|
||
considerations. The irresolution, the weakness and the failure to adopt
|
||
a logically consistent policy, which is typical of the parliamentary
|
||
system, contaminated the naval authorities.
|
||
|
||
As I have already emphasized, the military authorities did not allow
|
||
themselves to be led astray by such fundamentally erroneous ideas.
|
||
Ludendorff, who was then a Colonel in the General Staff, led a desperate
|
||
struggle against the criminal vacillations with which the Reichstag
|
||
treated the most vital problems of the nation and in most cases voted
|
||
against them. If the fight which this officer then waged remained
|
||
unsuccessful this must be debited to the Parliament and partly also to
|
||
the wretched and weak attitude of the Chancellor, Bethmann-Hollweg.
|
||
|
||
Yet those who are responsible for Germany's collapse do not hesitate now
|
||
to lay all the blame on the shoulders of the one man who took a firm
|
||
stand against the neglectful manner in which the interests of the nation
|
||
were managed. But one falsehood more or less makes no difference to
|
||
these congenital tricksters.
|
||
|
||
Anybody who thinks of all the sacrifices which this nation has had to
|
||
bear, as a result of the criminal neglect of those irresponsible
|
||
individuals; anybody who thinks of the number of those who died or were
|
||
maimed unnecessarily; anybody who thinks of the deplorable shame and
|
||
dishonour which has been heaped upon us and of the illimitable distress
|
||
into which our people are now plunged--anybody who realizes that in
|
||
order to prepare the way to a few seats in Parliament for some
|
||
unscrupulous place-hunters and arrivists will understand that such
|
||
hirelings can be called by no other name than that of rascal and
|
||
criminal; for otherwise those words could have no meaning. In comparison
|
||
with traitors who betrayed the nation's trust every other kind of
|
||
twister may be looked upon as an honourable man.
|
||
|
||
It was a peculiar feature of the situation that all the real faults of
|
||
the old Germany were exposed to the public gaze only when the inner
|
||
solidarity of the nation could be injured by doing so. Then, indeed,
|
||
unpleasant truths were openly proclaimed in the ears of the broad
|
||
masses, while many other things were at other times shamefully hushed up
|
||
or their existence simply denied, especially at times when an open
|
||
discussion of such problems might have led to an improvement in their
|
||
regard. The higher government authorities knew little or nothing of the
|
||
nature and use of propaganda in such matters. Only the Jew knew that by
|
||
an able and persistent use of propaganda heaven itself can be presented
|
||
to the people as if it were hell and, vice versa, the most miserable
|
||
kind of life can be presented as if it were paradise. The Jew knew this
|
||
and acted accordingly. But the German, or rather his Government, did not
|
||
have the slightest suspicion of it. During the War the heaviest of
|
||
penalties had to be paid for that ignorance.
|
||
|
||
Over against the innumerable drawbacks which I have mentioned here and
|
||
which affected German life before the War there were many outstanding
|
||
features on the positive side. If we take an impartial survey we must
|
||
admit that most of our drawbacks were in great measure prevalent also in
|
||
other countries and among the other nations, and very often in a worse
|
||
form than with us; whereas among us there were many real advantages
|
||
which the other did not have.
|
||
|
||
The leading phase of Germany's superiority arose from the fact that,
|
||
almost alone among all the other European nations, the German nation had
|
||
made the strongest effort to preserve the national character of its
|
||
economic structure and for this reason was less subject than other
|
||
countries to the power of international finance, though indeed there
|
||
were many untoward symptoms in this regard also.
|
||
|
||
And yet this superiority was a perilous one and turned out later to be
|
||
one of the chief causes of the world war.
|
||
|
||
But even if we disregard this advantage of national independence in
|
||
economic matters there were certain other positive features of our
|
||
social and political life which were of outstanding excellence. These
|
||
features were represented by three institutions which were constant
|
||
sources of regeneration. In their respective spheres they were models of
|
||
perfection and were partly unrivalled.
|
||
|
||
The first of these was the statal form as such and the manner in which
|
||
it had been developed for Germany in modern times. Of course we must
|
||
except those monarchs who, as human beings, were subject to the failings
|
||
which afflict this life and its children. If we were not so tolerant in
|
||
these matters, then the case of the present generation would be
|
||
hopeless; for if we take into consideration the personal capabilities
|
||
and character of the representative figures in our present regime it
|
||
would be difficult to imagine a more modest level of intelligence and
|
||
moral character. If we measure the 'value' of the German Revolution by
|
||
the personal worth and calibre of the individuals whom this revolution
|
||
has presented to the German people since November 1918 then we may feel
|
||
ashamed indeed in thinking of the judgment which posterity will pass on
|
||
these people, when the Law for the Protection of the Republic can no
|
||
longer silence public opinion. Coming generations will surely decide
|
||
that the intelligence and integrity of our new German leaders were in
|
||
adverse ratio to their boasting and their vices.
|
||
|
||
It must be admitted that the monarchy had become alien in spirit to many
|
||
citizens and especially the broad masses. This resulted from the fact
|
||
that the monarchs were not always surrounded by the highest
|
||
intelligence--so to say--and certainly not always by persons of the most
|
||
upright character. Unfortunately many of them preferred flatterers to
|
||
honest-spoken men and hence received their 'information' from the
|
||
former. This was a source of grave danger at a time when the world was
|
||
passing through a period in which many of the old conditions were
|
||
changing and when this change was affecting even the traditions of the
|
||
Court.
|
||
|
||
The average man or woman could not have felt a wave of enthusiasm
|
||
surging within the breast when, for example, at the turn of the century,
|
||
a princess in uniform and on horseback had the soldiers file past her on
|
||
parade. Those high circles had apparently no idea of the impression
|
||
which such a parade made on the minds of ordinary people; else such
|
||
unfortunate occurrences would not have taken place. The sentimental
|
||
humanitarianism--not always very sincere--which was professed in those
|
||
high circles was often more repulsive than attractive. When, for
|
||
instance, the Princess X condescended to taste the products of a soup
|
||
kitchen and found them excellent, as usual, such a gesture might have
|
||
made an excellent impression in times long past, but on this occasion it
|
||
had the opposite effect to what was intended. For even if we take it for
|
||
granted that Her Highness did not have the slightest idea, that on the
|
||
day she sampled it, the food was not quite the same as on other days, it
|
||
sufficed that the people knew it. Even the best of intentions thus
|
||
became an object of ridicule or a cause of exasperation.
|
||
|
||
Descriptions of the proverbial frugality practised by the monarch, his
|
||
much too early rise in the morning and the drudgery he had to go through
|
||
all day long until late at night, and especially the constantly
|
||
expressed fears lest he might become undernourished--all this gave rise
|
||
to ominous expression on the part of the people. Nobody was keen to know
|
||
what and how much the monarch ate or drank. Nobody grudged him a full
|
||
meal, or the necessary amount of sleep. Everybody was pleased when the
|
||
monarch, as a man and a personality, brought honour on his family and
|
||
his country and fulfilled his duties as a sovereign. All the legends
|
||
which were circulated about him helped little and did much damage.
|
||
|
||
These and such things, however, are only mere bagatelle. What was much
|
||
worse was the feeling, which spread throughout large sections of the
|
||
nation, that the affairs of the individual were being taken care of from
|
||
above and that he did not need to bother himself with them. As long as
|
||
the Government was really good, or at least moved by goodwill, no
|
||
serious objections could be raised.
|
||
|
||
But the country was destined to disaster when the old Government, which
|
||
had at least striven for the best, became replaced by a new regime which
|
||
was not of the same quality. Then the docile obedience and infantile
|
||
credulity which formerly offered no resistance was bound to be one of
|
||
the most fatal evils that can be imagined.
|
||
|
||
But against these and other defects there were certain qualities which
|
||
undoubtedly had a positive effect.
|
||
|
||
First of all the monarchical form of government guarantees stability in
|
||
the direction of public affairs and safeguards public offices from the
|
||
speculative turmoil of ambitious politicians. Furthermore, the venerable
|
||
tradition which this institution possesses arouses a feeling which gives
|
||
weight to the monarchical authority. Beyond this there is the fact that
|
||
the whole corps of officials, and the army in particular, are raised
|
||
above the level of political party obligations. And still another
|
||
positive feature was that the supreme rulership of the State was
|
||
embodied in the monarch, as an individual person, who could serve as the
|
||
symbol of responsibility, which a monarch has to bear more seriously
|
||
than any anonymous parliamentary majority. Indeed, the proverbial
|
||
honesty and integrity of the German administration must be attributed
|
||
chiefly to this fact. Finally, the monarchy fulfilled a high cultural
|
||
function among the German people, which made amends for many of its
|
||
defects. The German residential cities have remained, even to our time,
|
||
centres of that artistic spirit which now threatens to disappear and is
|
||
becoming more and more materialistic. The German princes gave a great
|
||
deal of excellent and practical encouragement to art and science,
|
||
especially during the nineteenth century. Our present age certainly has
|
||
nothing of equal worth.
|
||
|
||
During that process of disintegration which was slowly extending
|
||
throughout the social order the most positive force of resistance was
|
||
that offered by the army. This was the strongest source of education
|
||
which the German people possessed. For that reason all the hatred of our
|
||
enemies was directed against the paladin of our national
|
||
self-preservation and our liberty. The strongest testimony in favour of
|
||
this unique institution is the fact that it was derided, hated and
|
||
fought against, but also feared, by worthless elements all round. The
|
||
fact that the international profiteers who gathered at Versailles,
|
||
further to exploit and plunder the nations directed their enmity
|
||
specially against the old German army proved once again that it deserved
|
||
to be regarded as the institution which protected the liberties of our
|
||
people against the forces of the international stock-exchange. If the
|
||
army had not been there to sound the alarm and stand on guard, the
|
||
purposes of the Versailles representatives would have been carried out
|
||
much sooner. There is only one word to express what the German people
|
||
owe to this army--Everything!
|
||
|
||
It was the army that still inculcated a sense of responsibility among
|
||
the people when this quality had become very rare and when the habit of
|
||
shirking every kind of responsibility was steadily spreading. This habit
|
||
had grown up under the evil influences of Parliament, which was itself
|
||
the very model of irresponsibility. The army trained the people to
|
||
personal courage at a time when the virtue of timidity threatened to
|
||
become an epidemic and when the spirit of sacrificing one's personal
|
||
interests for the good of the community was considered as something that
|
||
amounted almost to weak-mindedness. At a time when only those were
|
||
estimated as intelligent who knew how to safeguard and promote their own
|
||
egotistic interests, the army was the school through which individual
|
||
Germans were taught not to seek the salvation of their nation in the
|
||
false ideology of international fraternization between negroes, Germans,
|
||
Chinese, French and English, etc., but in the strength and unity of
|
||
their own national being.
|
||
|
||
The army developed the individual's powers of resolute decision, and
|
||
this at a time when a spirit of indecision and scepticism governed human
|
||
conduct. At a time when the wiseacres were everywhere setting the
|
||
fashion it needed courage to uphold the principle that any command is
|
||
better than none. This one principle represents a robust and sound style
|
||
of thought, of which not a trace would have been left in the other
|
||
branches of life if the army had not furnished a constant rejuvenation
|
||
of this fundamental force. A sufficient proof of this may be found in
|
||
the appalling lack of decision which our present government authorities
|
||
display. They cannot shake off their mental and moral lethargy and
|
||
decide on some definite line of action except when they are forced to
|
||
sign some new dictate for the exploitation of the German people. In that
|
||
case they decline all responsibility while at the same time they sign
|
||
everything which the other side places before them; and they sign with
|
||
the readiness of an official stenographer. Their conduct is here
|
||
explicable on the ground that in this case they are not under the
|
||
necessity of coming to a decision; for the decision is dictated to them.
|
||
|
||
The army imbued its members with a spirit of idealism and developed
|
||
their readiness to sacrifice themselves for their country and its
|
||
honour, while greed and materialism dominated in all the other branches
|
||
of life. The army united a people who were split up into classes: and in
|
||
this respect had only one defect, which was the One Year Military
|
||
Service, a privilege granted to those who had passed through the high
|
||
schools. It was a defect, because the principle of absolute equality was
|
||
thereby violated; and those who had a better education were thus placed
|
||
outside the cadres to which the rest of their comrades belonged. The
|
||
reverse would have been better. Since our upper classes were really
|
||
ignorant of what was going on in the body corporate of the nation and
|
||
were becoming more and more estranged from the life of the people, the
|
||
army would have accomplished a very beneficial mission if it had refused
|
||
to discriminate in favour of the so-called intellectuals, especially
|
||
within its own ranks. It was a mistake that this was not done; but in
|
||
this world of ours can we find any institution that has not at least one
|
||
defect? And in the army the good features were so absolutely predominant
|
||
that the few defects it had were far below the average that generally
|
||
rises from human weakness.
|
||
|
||
But the greatest credit which the army of the old Empire deserves is
|
||
that, at a time when the person of the individual counted for nothing
|
||
and the majority was everything, it placed individual personal values
|
||
above majority values. By insisting on its faith in personality, the
|
||
army opposed that typically Jewish and democratic apotheosis of the
|
||
power of numbers. The army trained what at that time was most surely
|
||
needed: namely, real men. In a period when men were falling a prey to
|
||
effeminacy and laxity, 350,000 vigorously trained young men went from
|
||
the ranks of the army each year to mingle with their fellow-men. In the
|
||
course of their two years' training they had lost the softness of their
|
||
young days and had developed bodies as tough as steel. The young man who
|
||
had been taught obedience for two years was now fitted to command. The
|
||
trained soldier could be recognized already by his walk.
|
||
|
||
This was the great school of the German nation; and it was not without
|
||
reason that it drew upon its head all the bitter hatred of those who
|
||
wanted the Empire to be weak and defenceless, because they were jealous
|
||
of its greatness and were themselves possessed by a spirit of rapacity
|
||
and greed. The rest of the world recognized a fact which many Germans
|
||
did not wish to see, either because they were blind to facts or because
|
||
out of malice they did not wish to see it. This fact was that the German
|
||
Army was the most powerful weapon for the defence and freedom of the
|
||
German nation and the best guarantee for the livelihood of its citizens.
|
||
|
||
There was a third institution of positive worth, which has to be placed
|
||
beside that of the monarchy and the army. This was the civil service.
|
||
|
||
German administration was better organized and better carried out than
|
||
the administration of other countries. There may have been objections to
|
||
the bureaucratic routine of the officials, but from this point of view
|
||
the state of affairs was similar, if not worse, in the other countries.
|
||
But the other States did not have the wonderful solidarity which this
|
||
organization possessed in Germany, nor were their civil servants of that
|
||
same high level of scrupulous honesty. It is certainly better to be a
|
||
trifle over-bureaucratic and honest and loyal than to be
|
||
over-sophisticated and modern, the latter often implying an inferior
|
||
type of character and also ignorance and inefficiency. For if it be
|
||
insinuated to-day that the German administration of the pre-War period
|
||
may have been excellent so far as bureaucratic technique goes, but that
|
||
from the practical business point of view it was incompetent, I can only
|
||
give the following reply: What other country in the world possessed a
|
||
better-organized and administered business enterprise than the German
|
||
State Railways, for instance? It was left to the Revolution to destroy
|
||
this standard organization, until a time came when it was taken out of
|
||
the hands of the nation and socialized, in the sense which the founders
|
||
of the Republic had given to that word, namely, making it subservient to
|
||
the international stock-exchange capitalists, who were the wire-pullers
|
||
of the German Revolution.
|
||
|
||
The most outstanding trait in the civil service and the whole body of
|
||
the civil administration was its independence of the vicissitudes of
|
||
government, the political mentality of which could exercise no influence
|
||
on the attitude of the German State officials. Since the Revolution this
|
||
situation has been completely changed. Efficiency and capability have
|
||
been replaced by the test of party-adherence; and independence of
|
||
character and initiative are no longer appreciated as positive qualities
|
||
in a public official. They rather tell against him.
|
||
|
||
The wonderful might and power of the old Empire was based on the
|
||
monarchical form of government, the army and the civil service. On these
|
||
three foundations rested that great strength which is now entirely
|
||
lacking; namely, the authority of the State. For the authority of the
|
||
State cannot be based on the babbling that goes on in Parliament or in
|
||
the provincial diets and not upon laws made to protect the State, or
|
||
upon sentences passed by the law courts to frighten those who have had
|
||
the hardihood to deny the authority of the State, but only on the
|
||
general confidence which the management and administration of the
|
||
community establishes among the people. This confidence is in its turn,
|
||
nothing else than the result of an unshakable inner conviction that the
|
||
government and administration of a country is inspired by disinterested
|
||
and honest goodwill and on the feeling that the spirit of the law is in
|
||
complete harmony with the moral convictions of the people. In the long
|
||
run, systems of government are not maintained by terrorism but on the
|
||
belief of the people in the merits and sincerity of those who administer
|
||
and promote the public interests.
|
||
|
||
Though it be true that in the period preceding the War certain grave
|
||
evils tended to infect and corrode the inner strength of the nation, it
|
||
must be remembered that the other States suffered even more than Germany
|
||
from these drawbacks and yet those other States did not fail and break
|
||
down when the time of crisis came. If we remember further that those
|
||
defects in pre-War Germany were outweighed by great positive qualities
|
||
we shall have to look elsewhere for the effective cause of the collapse.
|
||
And elsewhere it lay.
|
||
|
||
The ultimate and most profound reason of the German downfall is to be
|
||
found in the fact that the racial problem was ignored and that its
|
||
importance in the historical development of nations was not grasped. For
|
||
the events that take place in the life of nations are not due to chance
|
||
but are the natural results of the effort to conserve and multiply the
|
||
species and the race, even though men may not be able consciously to
|
||
picture to their minds the profound motives of their conduct.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
CHAPTER XI
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
RACE AND PEOPLE
|
||
|
||
|
||
There are certain truths which stand out so openly on the roadsides of
|
||
life, as it were, that every passer-by may see them. Yet, because of
|
||
their very obviousness, the general run of people disregard such truths
|
||
or at least they do not make them the object of any conscious knowledge.
|
||
People are so blind to some of the simplest facts in every-day life that
|
||
they are highly surprised when somebody calls attention to what
|
||
everybody ought to know. Examples of The Columbus Egg lie around us in
|
||
hundreds of thousands; but observers like Columbus are rare.
|
||
|
||
Walking about in the garden of Nature, most men have the self-conceit to
|
||
think that they know everything; yet almost all are blind to one of the
|
||
outstanding principles that Nature employs in her work. This principle
|
||
may be called the inner isolation which characterizes each and every
|
||
living species on this earth.
|
||
|
||
Even a superficial glance is sufficient to show that all the innumerable
|
||
forms in which the life-urge of Nature manifests itself are subject to a
|
||
fundamental law--one may call it an iron law of Nature--which compels
|
||
the various species to keep within the definite limits of their own
|
||
life-forms when propagating and multiplying their kind. Each animal
|
||
mates only with one of its own species. The titmouse cohabits only with
|
||
the titmouse, the finch with the finch, the stork with the stork, the
|
||
field-mouse with the field-mouse, the house-mouse with the house-mouse,
|
||
the wolf with the she-wolf, etc.
|
||
|
||
Deviations from this law take place only in exceptional circumstances.
|
||
This happens especially under the compulsion of captivity, or when some
|
||
other obstacle makes procreative intercourse impossible between
|
||
individuals of the same species. But then Nature abhors such intercourse
|
||
with all her might; and her protest is most clearly demonstrated by the
|
||
fact that the hybrid is either sterile or the fecundity of its
|
||
descendants is limited. In most cases hybrids and their progeny are
|
||
denied the ordinary powers of resistance to disease or the natural means
|
||
of defence against outer attack.
|
||
|
||
Such a dispensation of Nature is quite logical. Every crossing between
|
||
two breeds which are not quite equal results in a product which holds an
|
||
intermediate place between the levels of the two parents. This means
|
||
that the offspring will indeed be superior to the parent which stands in
|
||
the biologically lower order of being, but not so high as the higher
|
||
parent. For this reason it must eventually succumb in any struggle
|
||
against the higher species. Such mating contradicts the will of Nature
|
||
towards the selective improvements of life in general. The favourable
|
||
preliminary to this improvement is not to mate individuals of higher and
|
||
lower orders of being but rather to allow the complete triumph of the
|
||
higher order. The stronger must dominate and not mate with the weaker,
|
||
which would signify the sacrifice of its own higher nature. Only the
|
||
born weakling can look upon this principle as cruel, and if he does so
|
||
it is merely because he is of a feebler nature and narrower mind; for if
|
||
such a law did not direct the process of evolution then the higher
|
||
development of organic life would not be conceivable at all.
|
||
|
||
This urge for the maintenance of the unmixed breed, which is a
|
||
phenomenon that prevails throughout the whole of the natural world,
|
||
results not only in the sharply defined outward distinction between one
|
||
species and another but also in the internal similarity of
|
||
characteristic qualities which are peculiar to each breed or species.
|
||
The fox remains always a fox, the goose remains a goose, and the tiger
|
||
will retain the character of a tiger. The only difference that can exist
|
||
within the species must be in the various degrees of structural strength
|
||
and active power, in the intelligence, efficiency, endurance, etc., with
|
||
which the individual specimens are endowed. It would be impossible to
|
||
find a fox which has a kindly and protective disposition towards geese,
|
||
just as no cat exists which has a friendly disposition towards mice.
|
||
|
||
That is why the struggle between the various species does not arise from
|
||
a feeling of mutual antipathy but rather from hunger and love. In both
|
||
cases Nature looks on calmly and is even pleased with what happens. The
|
||
struggle for the daily livelihood leaves behind in the ruck everything
|
||
that is weak or diseased or wavering; while the fight of the male to
|
||
possess the female gives to the strongest the right, or at least, the
|
||
possibility to propagate its kind. And this struggle is a means of
|
||
furthering the health and powers of resistance in the species. Thus it
|
||
is one of the causes underlying the process of development towards a
|
||
higher quality of being.
|
||
|
||
If the case were different the progressive process would cease, and even
|
||
retrogression might set in. Since the inferior always outnumber the
|
||
superior, the former would always increase more rapidly if they
|
||
possessed the same capacities for survival and for the procreation of
|
||
their kind; and the final consequence would be that the best in quality
|
||
would be forced to recede into the background. Therefore a corrective
|
||
measure in favour of the better quality must intervene. Nature supplies
|
||
this by establishing rigorous conditions of life to which the weaker
|
||
will have to submit and will thereby be numerically restricted; but even
|
||
that portion which survives cannot indiscriminately multiply, for here a
|
||
new and rigorous selection takes place, according to strength and
|
||
health.
|
||
|
||
If Nature does not wish that weaker individuals should mate with the
|
||
stronger, she wishes even less that a superior race should intermingle
|
||
with an inferior one; because in such a case all her efforts, throughout
|
||
hundreds of thousands of years, to establish an evolutionary higher
|
||
stage of being, may thus be rendered futile.
|
||
|
||
History furnishes us with innumerable instances that prove this law. It
|
||
shows, with a startling clarity, that whenever Aryans have mingled their
|
||
blood with that of an inferior race the result has been the downfall of
|
||
the people who were the standard-bearers of a higher culture. In North
|
||
America, where the population is prevalently Teutonic, and where those
|
||
elements intermingled with the inferior race only to a very small
|
||
degree, we have a quality of mankind and a civilization which are
|
||
different from those of Central and South America. In these latter
|
||
countries the immigrants--who mainly belonged to the Latin races--mated
|
||
with the aborigines, sometimes to a very large extent indeed. In this
|
||
case we have a clear and decisive example of the effect produced by the
|
||
mixture of races. But in North America the Teutonic element, which has
|
||
kept its racial stock pure and did not mix it with any other racial
|
||
stock, has come to dominate the American Continent and will remain
|
||
master of it as long as that element does not fall a victim to the habit
|
||
of adulterating its blood.
|
||
|
||
In short, the results of miscegenation are always the following:
|
||
|
||
(a) The level of the superior race becomes lowered;
|
||
|
||
(b) physical and mental degeneration sets in, thus leading slowly but
|
||
steadily towards a progressive drying up of the vital sap.
|
||
|
||
The act which brings about such a development is a sin against the will
|
||
of the Eternal Creator. And as a sin this act will be avenged.
|
||
|
||
Man's effort to build up something that contradicts the iron logic of
|
||
Nature brings him into conflict with those principles to which he
|
||
himself exclusively owes his own existence. By acting against the laws
|
||
of Nature he prepares the way that leads to his ruin.
|
||
|
||
Here we meet the insolent objection, which is Jewish in its inspiration
|
||
and is typical of the modern pacifist. It says: "Man can control even
|
||
Nature."
|
||
|
||
There are millions who repeat by rote that piece of Jewish babble and
|
||
end up by imagining that somehow they themselves are the conquerors of
|
||
Nature. And yet their only weapon is just a mere idea, and a very
|
||
preposterous idea into the bargain; because if one accepted it, then it
|
||
would be impossible even to imagine the existence of the world.
|
||
|
||
The real truth is that, not only has man failed to overcome Nature in
|
||
any sphere whatsoever but that at best he has merely succeeded in
|
||
getting hold of and lifting a tiny corner of the enormous veil which she
|
||
has spread over her eternal mysteries and secret. He never creates
|
||
anything. All he can do is to discover something. He does not master
|
||
Nature but has only come to be the master of those living beings who
|
||
have not gained the knowledge he has arrived at by penetrating into some
|
||
of Nature's laws and mysteries. Apart from all this, an idea can never
|
||
subject to its own sway those conditions which are necessary for the
|
||
existence and development of mankind; for the idea itself has come only
|
||
from man. Without man there would be no human idea in this world. The
|
||
idea as such is therefore always dependent on the existence of man and
|
||
consequently is dependent on those laws which furnish the conditions of
|
||
his existence.
|
||
|
||
And not only that. Certain ideas are even confined to certain people.
|
||
This holds true with regard to those ideas in particular which have not
|
||
their roots in objective scientific truth but in the world of feeling.
|
||
In other words, to use a phrase which is current to-day and which well
|
||
and clearly expresses this truth: THEY REFLECT AN INNER EXPERIENCE. All
|
||
such ideas, which have nothing to do with cold logic as such but
|
||
represent mere manifestations of feeling, such as ethical and moral
|
||
conceptions, etc., are inextricably bound up with man's existence. It is
|
||
to the creative powers of man's imagination that such ideas owe their
|
||
existence.
|
||
|
||
Now, then, a necessary condition for the maintenance of such ideas is
|
||
the existence of certain races and certain types of men. For example,
|
||
anyone who sincerely wishes that the pacifist idea should prevail in
|
||
this world ought to do all he is capable of doing to help the Germans
|
||
conquer the world; for in case the reverse should happen it may easily
|
||
be that the last pacifist would disappear with the last German. I say
|
||
this because, unfortunately, only our people, and no other people in the
|
||
world, fell a prey to this idea. Whether you like it or not, you would
|
||
have to make up your mind to forget wars if you would achieve the
|
||
pacifist ideal. Nothing less than this was the plan of the American
|
||
world-redeemer, Woodrow Wilson. Anyhow that was what our visionaries
|
||
believed, and they thought that through his plans their ideals would be
|
||
attained.
|
||
|
||
The pacifist-humanitarian idea may indeed become an excellent one when
|
||
the most superior type of manhood will have succeeded in subjugating the
|
||
world to such an extent that this type is then sole master of the earth.
|
||
This idea could have an injurious effect only in the measure according
|
||
to which its application would become difficult and finally impossible.
|
||
So, first of all, the fight and then pacifism. If the case were
|
||
different it would mean that mankind has already passed the zenith of
|
||
its development, and accordingly the end would not be the supremacy of
|
||
some moral ideal but degeneration into barbarism and consequent chaos.
|
||
People may laugh at this statement; but our planet has been moving
|
||
through the spaces of ether for millions and millions of years,
|
||
uninhabited by men, and at some future date may easily begin to do so
|
||
again--if men should forget that wherever they have reached a superior
|
||
level of existence, it was not the result of following the ideas of
|
||
crazy visionaries but by acknowledging and rigorously observing the iron
|
||
laws of Nature.
|
||
|
||
All that we admire in the world to-day, its science, its art, its
|
||
technical developments and discoveries, are the products of the creative
|
||
activities of a few peoples, and it may be true that their first
|
||
beginnings must be attributed to one race. The maintenance of
|
||
civilization is wholly dependent on such peoples. Should they perish,
|
||
all that makes this earth beautiful will descend with them into the
|
||
grave.
|
||
|
||
However great, for example, be the influence which the soil exerts on
|
||
men, this influence will always vary according to the race in which it
|
||
produces its effect. Dearth of soil may stimulate one race to the most
|
||
strenuous efforts and highest achievement; while, for another race, the
|
||
poverty of the soil may be the cause of misery and finally of
|
||
undernourishment, with all its consequences. The internal
|
||
characteristics of a people are always the causes which determine the
|
||
nature of the effect that outer circumstances have on them. What reduces
|
||
one race to starvation trains another race to harder work.
|
||
|
||
All the great civilizations of the past became decadent because the
|
||
originally creative race died out, as a result of contamination of the
|
||
blood.
|
||
|
||
The most profound cause of such a decline is to be found in the fact
|
||
that the people ignored the principle that all culture depends on men,
|
||
and not the reverse. In other words, in order to preserve a certain
|
||
culture, the type of manhood that creates such a culture must be
|
||
preserved. But such a preservation goes hand-in-hand with the inexorable
|
||
law that it is the strongest and the best who must triumph and that they
|
||
have the right to endure.
|
||
|
||
He who would live must fight. He who does not wish to fight in this
|
||
world, where permanent struggle is the law of life, has not the right to
|
||
exist.
|
||
|
||
Such a saying may sound hard; but, after all, that is how the matter
|
||
really stands. Yet far harder is the lot of him who believes that he can
|
||
overcome Nature and thus in reality insults her. Distress, misery, and
|
||
disease are her rejoinders.
|
||
|
||
Whoever ignores or despises the laws of race really deprives himself of
|
||
the happiness to which he believes he can attain. For he places an
|
||
obstacle in the victorious path of the superior race and, by so doing,
|
||
he interferes with a prerequisite condition of all human progress.
|
||
Loaded with the burden of humanitarian sentiment, he falls back to the
|
||
level of those who are unable to raise themselves in the scale of being.
|
||
|
||
It would be futile to attempt to discuss the question as to what race or
|
||
races were the original standard-bearers of human culture and were
|
||
thereby the real founders of all that we understand by the word
|
||
humanity. It is much simpler to deal with this question in so far as it
|
||
relates to the present time. Here the answer is simple and clear. Every
|
||
manifestation of human culture, every product of art, science and
|
||
technical skill, which we see before our eyes to-day, is almost
|
||
exclusively the product of the Aryan creative power. This very fact
|
||
fully justifies the conclusion that it was the Aryan alone who founded a
|
||
superior type of humanity; therefore he represents the architype of what
|
||
we understand by the term: MAN. He is the Prometheus of mankind, from
|
||
whose shining brow the divine spark of genius has at all times flashed
|
||
forth, always kindling anew that fire which, in the form of knowledge,
|
||
illuminated the dark night by drawing aside the veil of mystery and thus
|
||
showing man how to rise and become master over all the other beings on
|
||
the earth. Should he be forced to disappear, a profound darkness will
|
||
descend on the earth; within a few thousand years human culture will
|
||
vanish and the world will become a desert.
|
||
|
||
If we divide mankind into three categories--founders of culture, bearers
|
||
of culture, and destroyers of culture--the Aryan alone can be considered
|
||
as representing the first category. It was he who laid the groundwork
|
||
and erected the walls of every great structure in human culture. Only
|
||
the shape and colour of such structures are to be attributed to the
|
||
individual characteristics of the various nations. It is the Aryan who
|
||
has furnished the great building-stones and plans for the edifices of
|
||
all human progress; only the way in which these plans have been executed
|
||
is to be attributed to the qualities of each individual race. Within a
|
||
few decades the whole of Eastern Asia, for instance, appropriated a
|
||
culture and called such a culture its own, whereas the basis of that
|
||
culture was the Greek mind and Teutonic skill as we know it. Only the
|
||
external form--at least to a certain degree--shows the traits of an
|
||
Asiatic inspiration. It is not true, as some believe, that Japan adds
|
||
European technique to a culture of her own. The truth rather is that
|
||
European science and technics are just decked out with the peculiar
|
||
characteristics of Japanese civilization. The foundations of actual life
|
||
in Japan to-day are not those of the native Japanese culture, although
|
||
this characterizes the external features of the country, which features
|
||
strike the eye of European observers on account of their fundamental
|
||
difference from us; but the real foundations of contemporary Japanese
|
||
life are the enormous scientific and technical achievements of Europe
|
||
and America, that is to say, of Aryan peoples. Only by adopting these
|
||
achievements as the foundations of their own progress can the various
|
||
nations of the Orient take a place in contemporary world progress. The
|
||
scientific and technical achievements of Europe and America provide the
|
||
basis on which the struggle for daily livelihood is carried on in the
|
||
Orient. They provide the necessary arms and instruments for this
|
||
struggle, and only the outer forms of these instruments have become
|
||
gradually adapted to Japanese ways of life.
|
||
|
||
If, from to-day onwards, the Aryan influence on Japan would cease--and
|
||
if we suppose that Europe and America would collapse--then the present
|
||
progress of Japan in science and technique might still last for a short
|
||
duration; but within a few decades the inspiration would dry up, and
|
||
native Japanese character would triumph, while the present civilization
|
||
would become fossilized and fall back into the sleep from which it was
|
||
aroused about seventy years ago by the impact of Aryan culture. We may
|
||
therefore draw the conclusion that, just as the present Japanese
|
||
development has been due to Aryan influence, so in the immemorial past
|
||
an outside influence and an outside culture brought into existence the
|
||
Japanese culture of that day. This opinion is very strongly supported by
|
||
the fact that the ancient civilization of Japan actually became
|
||
fossilizied and petrified. Such a process of senility can happen only if
|
||
a people loses the racial cell which originally had been creative or if
|
||
the outside influence should be withdrawn after having awakened and
|
||
maintained the first cultural developments in that region. If it be
|
||
shown that a people owes the fundamental elements of its culture to
|
||
foreign races, assimilating and elaborating such elements, and if
|
||
subsequently that culture becomes fossilized whenever the external
|
||
influence ceases, then such a race may be called the depository but
|
||
never the creator of a culture.
|
||
|
||
If we subject the different peoples to a strict test from this
|
||
standpoint we shall find that scarcely any one of them has originally
|
||
created a culture, but almost all have been merely the recipients of a
|
||
culture created elsewhere.
|
||
|
||
This development may be depicted as always happening somewhat in the
|
||
following way:
|
||
|
||
Aryan tribes, often almost ridiculously small in number, subjugated
|
||
foreign peoples and, stimulated by the conditions of life which their
|
||
new country offered them (fertility, the nature of the climate, etc.),
|
||
and profiting also by the abundance of manual labour furnished them by
|
||
the inferior race, they developed intellectual and organizing faculties
|
||
which had hitherto been dormant in these conquering tribes. Within the
|
||
course of a few thousand years, or even centuries, they gave life to
|
||
cultures whose primitive traits completely corresponded to the character
|
||
of the founders, though modified by adaptation to the peculiarities of
|
||
the soil and the characteristics of the subjugated people. But finally
|
||
the conquering race offended against the principles which they first had
|
||
observed, namely, the maintenance of their racial stock unmixed, and
|
||
they began to intermingle with the subjugated people. Thus they put an
|
||
end to their own separate existence; for the original sin committed in
|
||
Paradise has always been followed by the expulsion of the guilty
|
||
parties.
|
||
|
||
After a thousand years or more the last visible traces of those former
|
||
masters may then be found in a lighter tint of the skin which the Aryan
|
||
blood had bequeathed to the subjugated race, and in a fossilized culture
|
||
of which those Aryans had been the original creators. For just as the
|
||
blood. of the conqueror, who was a conqueror not only in body but also
|
||
in spirit, got submerged in the blood of the subject race, so the
|
||
substance disappeared out of which the torch of human culture and
|
||
progress was kindled. In so far as the blood of the former ruling race
|
||
has left a light nuance of colour in the blood of its descendants, as a
|
||
token and a memory, the night of cultural life is rendered less dim and
|
||
dark by a mild light radiated from the products of those who were the
|
||
bearers of the original fire. Their radiance shines across the barbarism
|
||
to which the subjected race has reverted and might often lead the
|
||
superficial observer to believe that he sees before him an image of the
|
||
present race when he is really looking into a mirror wherein only the
|
||
past is reflected.
|
||
|
||
It may happen that in the course of its history such a people will come
|
||
into contact a second time, and even oftener, with the original founders
|
||
of their culture and may not even remember that distant association.
|
||
Instinctively the remnants of blood left from that old ruling race will
|
||
be drawn towards this new phenomenon and what had formerly been possible
|
||
only under compulsion can now be successfully achieved in a voluntary
|
||
way. A new cultural wave flows in and lasts until the blood of its
|
||
standard-bearers becomes once again adulterated by intermixture with the
|
||
originally conquered race.
|
||
|
||
It will be the task of those who set themselves to the study of a
|
||
universal history of civilization to investigate history from this point
|
||
of view instead of allowing themselves to be smothered under the mass of
|
||
external data, as is only too often the case with our present historical
|
||
science.
|
||
|
||
This short sketch of the changes that take place among those races that
|
||
are only the depositories of a culture also furnishes a picture of the
|
||
development and the activity and the disappearance of those who are the
|
||
true founders of culture on this earth, namely the Aryans themselves.
|
||
|
||
Just as in our daily life the so-called man of genius needs a particular
|
||
occasion, and sometimes indeed a special stimulus, to bring his genius
|
||
to light, so too in the life of the peoples the race that has genius in
|
||
it needs the occasion and stimulus to bring that genius to expression.
|
||
In the monotony and routine of everyday life even persons of
|
||
significance seem just like the others and do not rise beyond the
|
||
average level of their fellow-men. But as soon as such men find
|
||
themselves in a special situation which disconcerts and unbalances the
|
||
others, the humble person of apparently common qualities reveals traits
|
||
of genius, often to the amazement of those who have hitherto known him
|
||
in the small things of everyday life. That is the reason why a prophet
|
||
only seldom counts for something in his own country. War offers an
|
||
excellent occasion for observing this phenomenon. In times of distress,
|
||
when the others despair, apparently harmless boys suddenly spring up and
|
||
become heroes, full of determination, undaunted in the presence of Death
|
||
and manifesting wonderful powers of calm reflection under such
|
||
circumstances. If such an hour of trial did not come nobody would have
|
||
thought that the soul of a hero lurked in the body of that beardless
|
||
youth. A special impulse is almost always necessary to bring a man of
|
||
genius into the foreground. The sledge-hammer of Fate which strikes down
|
||
the one so easily suddenly finds the counter-impact of steel when it
|
||
strikes at the other. And, after the common shell of everyday life is
|
||
broken, the core that lay hidden in it is displayed to the eyes of an
|
||
astonished world. This surrounding world then grows obstinate and will
|
||
not believe that what had seemed so like itself is really of that
|
||
different quality so suddenly displayed. This is a process which is
|
||
repeated probably every time a man of outstanding significance appears.
|
||
|
||
Though an inventor, for example, does not establish his fame until the
|
||
very day that he carries through his invention, it would be a mistake to
|
||
believe that the creative genius did not become alive in him until that
|
||
moment. From the very hour of his birth the spark of genius is living
|
||
within the man who has been endowed with the real creative faculty. True
|
||
genius is an innate quality. It can never be the result of education or
|
||
training.
|
||
|
||
As I have stated already, this holds good not merely of the individual
|
||
but also of the race. Those peoples who manifest creative abilities in
|
||
certain periods of their history have always been fundamentally
|
||
creative. It belongs to their very nature, even though this fact may
|
||
escape the eyes of the superficial observer. Here also recognition from
|
||
outside is only the consequence of practical achievement. Since the rest
|
||
of the world is incapable of recognizing genius as such, it can only see
|
||
the visible manifestations of genius in the form of inventions,
|
||
discoveries, buildings, painting, etc.; but even here a long time passes
|
||
before recognition is given. Just as the individual person who has been
|
||
endowed with the gift of genius, or at least talent of a very high
|
||
order, cannot bring that endowment to realization until he comes under
|
||
the urge of special circumstances, so in the life of the nations the
|
||
creative capacities and powers frequently have to wait until certain
|
||
conditions stimulate them to action.
|
||
|
||
The most obvious example of this truth is furnished by that race which
|
||
has been, and still is, the standard-bearer of human progress: I mean
|
||
the Aryan race. As soon as Fate brings them face to face with special
|
||
circumstances their powers begin to develop progressively and to be
|
||
manifested in tangible form. The characteristic cultures which they
|
||
create under such circumstances are almost always conditioned by the
|
||
soil, the climate and the people they subjugate. The last factor--that
|
||
of the character of the people--is the most decisive one. The more
|
||
primitive the technical conditions under which the civilizing activity
|
||
takes place, the more necessary is the existence of manual labour which
|
||
can be organized and employed so as to take the place of mechanical
|
||
power. Had it not been possible for them to employ members of the
|
||
inferior race which they conquered, the Aryans would never have been in
|
||
a position to take the first steps on the road which led them to a later
|
||
type of culture; just as, without the help of certain suitable animals
|
||
which they were able to tame, they would never have come to the
|
||
invention of mechanical power which has subsequently enabled them to do
|
||
without these beasts. The phrase, 'The Moor has accomplished his
|
||
function, so let him now depart', has, unfortunately, a profound
|
||
application. For thousands of years the horse has been the faithful
|
||
servant of man and has helped him to lay the foundations of human
|
||
progress, but now motor power has dispensed with the use of the horse.
|
||
In a few years to come the use of the horse will cease entirely; and yet
|
||
without its collaboration man could scarcely have come to the stage of
|
||
development which he has now created.
|
||
|
||
For the establishment of superior types of civilization the members of
|
||
inferior races formed one of the most essential pre-requisites. They
|
||
alone could supply the lack of mechanical means without which no
|
||
progress is possible. It is certain that the first stages of human
|
||
civilization were not based so much on the use of tame animals as on the
|
||
employment of human beings who were members of an inferior race.
|
||
|
||
Only after subjugated races were employed as slaves was a similar fate
|
||
allotted to animals, and not vice versa, as some people would have us
|
||
believe. At first it was the conquered enemy who had to draw the plough
|
||
and only afterwards did the ox and horse take his place. Nobody else but
|
||
puling pacifists can consider this fact as a sign of human degradation.
|
||
Such people fail to recognize that this evolution had to take place in
|
||
order that man might reach that degree of civilization which these
|
||
apostles now exploit in an attempt to make the world pay attention to
|
||
their rigmarole.
|
||
|
||
The progress of mankind may be compared to the process of ascending an
|
||
infinite ladder. One does not reach the higher level without first
|
||
having climbed the lower rungs. The Aryan therefore had to take that
|
||
road which his sense of reality pointed out to him and not that which
|
||
the modern pacifist dreams of. The path of reality is, however,
|
||
difficult and hard to tread; yet it is the only one which finally leads
|
||
to the goal where the others envisage mankind in their dreams. But the
|
||
real truth is that those dreamers help only to lead man away from his
|
||
goal rather than towards it.
|
||
|
||
It was not by mere chance that the first forms of civilization arose
|
||
there where the Aryan came into contact with inferior races, subjugated
|
||
them and forced them to obey his command. The members of the inferior
|
||
race became the first mechanical tools in the service of a growing
|
||
civilization.
|
||
|
||
Thereby the way was clearly indicated which the Aryan had to follow. As
|
||
a conqueror, he subjugated inferior races and turned their physical
|
||
powers into organized channels under his own leadership, forcing them to
|
||
follow his will and purpose. By imposing on them a useful, though hard,
|
||
manner of employing their powers he not only spared the lives of those
|
||
whom he had conquered but probably made their lives easier than these
|
||
had been in the former state of so-called 'freedom'. While he ruthlessly
|
||
maintained his position as their master, he not only remained master but
|
||
he also maintained and advanced civilization. For this depended
|
||
exclusively on his inborn abilities and, therefore, on the preservation
|
||
of the Aryan race as such. As soon, however, as his subject began to
|
||
rise and approach the level of their conqueror, a phase of which
|
||
ascension was probably the use of his language, the barriers that had
|
||
distinguished master from servant broke down. The Aryan neglected to
|
||
maintain his own racial stock unmixed and therewith lost the right to
|
||
live in the paradise which he himself had created. He became submerged
|
||
in the racial mixture and gradually lost his cultural creativeness,
|
||
until he finally grew, not only mentally but also physically, more like
|
||
the aborigines whom he had subjected rather than his own ancestors. For
|
||
some time he could continue to live on the capital of that culture which
|
||
still remained; but a condition of fossilization soon set in and he sank
|
||
into oblivion.
|
||
|
||
That is how cultures and empires decline and yield their places to new
|
||
formations.
|
||
|
||
The adulteration of the blood and racial deterioration conditioned
|
||
thereby are the only causes that account for the decline of ancient
|
||
civilizations; for it is never by war that nations are ruined, but by
|
||
the loss of their powers of resistance, which are exclusively a
|
||
characteristic of pure racial blood. In this world everything that is
|
||
not of sound racial stock is like chaff. Every historical event in the
|
||
world is nothing more nor less than a manifestation of the instinct of
|
||
racial self-preservation, whether for weal or woe.
|
||
|
||
The question as to the ground reasons for the predominant importance of
|
||
Aryanism can be answered by pointing out that it is not so much that the
|
||
Aryans are endowed with a stronger instinct for self-preservation, but
|
||
rather that this manifests itself in a way which is peculiar to
|
||
themselves. Considered from the subjective standpoint, the will-to-live
|
||
is of course equally strong all round and only the forms in which it is
|
||
expressed are different. Among the most primitive organisms the instinct
|
||
for self-preservation does not extend beyond the care of the individual
|
||
ego. Egotism, as we call this passion, is so predominant that it
|
||
includes even the time element; which means that the present moment is
|
||
deemed the most important and that nothing is left to the future. The
|
||
animal lives only for itself, searching for food only when it feels
|
||
hunger and fighting only for the preservation of its own life. As long
|
||
as the instinct for self-preservation manifests itself exclusively in
|
||
such a way, there is no basis for the establishment of a community; not
|
||
even the most primitive form of all, that is to say the family. The
|
||
society formed by the male with the female, where it goes beyond the
|
||
mere conditions of mating, calls for the extension of the instinct of
|
||
self-preservation, since the readiness to fight for one's own ego has to
|
||
be extended also to the mate. The male sometimes provides food for the
|
||
female, but in most cases both parents provide food for the offspring.
|
||
Almost always they are ready to protect and defend each other; so that
|
||
here we find the first, though infinitely simple, manifestation of the
|
||
spirit of sacrifice. As soon as this spirit extends beyond the narrow
|
||
limits of the family, we have the conditions under which larger
|
||
associations and finally even States can be formed.
|
||
|
||
The lowest species of human beings give evidence of this quality only to
|
||
a very small degree, so that often they do not go beyond the formation
|
||
of the family society. With an increasing readiness to place their
|
||
immediate personal interests in the background, the capacity for
|
||
organizing more extensive communities develops.
|
||
|
||
The readiness to sacrifice one's personal work and, if necessary, even
|
||
one's life for others shows its most highly developed form in the Aryan
|
||
race. The greatness of the Aryan is not based on his intellectual
|
||
powers, but rather on his willingness to devote all his faculties to the
|
||
service of the community. Here the instinct for self-preservation has
|
||
reached its noblest form; for the Aryan willingly subordinates his own
|
||
ego to the common weal and when necessity calls he will even sacrifice
|
||
his own life for the community.
|
||
|
||
The constructive powers of the Aryan and that peculiar ability he has
|
||
for the building up of a culture are not grounded in his intellectual
|
||
gifts alone. If that were so they might only be destructive and could
|
||
never have the ability to organize; for the latter essentially depends
|
||
on the readiness of the individual to renounce his own personal opinions
|
||
and interests and to lay both at the service of the human group. By
|
||
serving the common weal he receives his reward in return. For example,
|
||
he does not work directly for himself but makes his productive work a
|
||
part of the activity of the group to which he belongs, not only for his
|
||
own benefit but for the general. The spirit underlying this attitude is
|
||
expressed by the word: WORK, which to him does not at all signify a
|
||
means of earning one's daily livelihood but rather a productive activity
|
||
which cannot clash with the interests of the community. Whenever human
|
||
activity is directed exclusively to the service of the instinct for
|
||
self-preservation it is called theft or usury, robbery or burglary, etc.
|
||
|
||
This mental attitude, which forces self-interest to recede into the
|
||
background in favour of the common weal, is the first prerequisite for
|
||
any kind of really human civilization. It is out of this spirit alone
|
||
that great human achievements have sprung for which the original doers
|
||
have scarcely ever received any recompense but which turns out to be the
|
||
source of abundant benefit for their descendants. It is this spirit
|
||
alone which can explain why it so often happens that people can endure a
|
||
harsh but honest existence which offers them no returns for their toil
|
||
except a poor and modest livelihood. But such a livelihood helps to
|
||
consolidate the foundations on which the community exists. Every worker
|
||
and every peasant, every inventor, state official, etc., who works
|
||
without ever achieving fortune or prosperity for himself, is a
|
||
representative of this sublime idea, even though he may never become
|
||
conscious of the profound meaning of his own activity.
|
||
|
||
Everything that may be said of that kind of work which is the
|
||
fundamental condition of providing food and the basic means of human
|
||
progress is true even in a higher sense of work that is done for the
|
||
protection of man and his civilization. The renunciation of one's own
|
||
life for the sake of the community is the crowning significance of the
|
||
idea of all sacrifice. In this way only is it possible to protect what
|
||
has been built up by man and to assure that this will not be destroyed
|
||
by the hand of man or of nature.
|
||
|
||
In the German language we have a word which admirably expresses this
|
||
underlying spirit of all work: It is Pflichterf<72>llung, which means the
|
||
service of the common weal before the consideration of one's own
|
||
interests. The fundamental spirit out of which this kind of activity
|
||
springs is the contradistinction of 'Egotism' and we call it 'Idealism'.
|
||
By this we mean to signify the willingness of the individual to make
|
||
sacrifices for the community and his fellow-men.
|
||
|
||
It is of the utmost importance to insist again and again that idealism
|
||
is not merely a superfluous manifestation of sentiment but rather
|
||
something which has been, is and always will be, a necessary
|
||
precondition of human civilization; it is even out of this that the very
|
||
idea of the word 'Human' arises. To this kind of mentality the Aryan
|
||
owes his position in the world. And the world is indebted to the Aryan
|
||
mind for having developed the concept of 'mankind'; for it is out of
|
||
this spirit alone that the creative force has come which in a unique way
|
||
combined robust muscular power with a first-class intellect and thus
|
||
created the monuments of human civilization.
|
||
|
||
Were it not for idealism all the faculties of the intellect, even the
|
||
most brilliant, would be nothing but intellect itself, a mere external
|
||
phenomenon without inner value and never a creative force.
|
||
|
||
Since true idealism, however, is essentially the subordination of the
|
||
interests and life of the individual to the interests and life of the
|
||
community, and since the community on its part represents the
|
||
pre-requisite condition of every form of organization, this idealism
|
||
accords in its innermost essence with the final purpose of Nature. This
|
||
feeling alone makes men voluntarily acknowledge that strength and power
|
||
are entitled to take the lead and thus makes them a constituent particle
|
||
in that order out of which the whole universe is shaped and formed.
|
||
|
||
Without being conscious of it, the purest idealism is always associated
|
||
with the most profound knowledge. How true this is and how little
|
||
genuine idealism has to do with fantastic self-dramatization will become
|
||
clear the moment we ask an unspoilt child, a healthy boy for example, to
|
||
give his opinion. The very same boy who listens to the rantings of an
|
||
'idealistic' pacifist without understanding them, and even rejects them,
|
||
would readily sacrifice his young life for the ideal of his people.
|
||
|
||
Unconsciously his instinct will submit to the knowledge that the
|
||
preservation of the species, even at the cost of the individual life, is
|
||
a primal necessity and he will protest against the fantasies of pacifist
|
||
ranters, who in reality are nothing better than cowardly egoists, even
|
||
though camouflaged, who contradict the laws of human development. For it
|
||
is a necessity of human evolution that the individual should be imbued
|
||
with the spirit of sacrifice in favour of the common weal, and that he
|
||
should not be influenced by the morbid notions of those knaves who
|
||
pretend to know better than Nature and who have the impudencc to
|
||
criticize her decrees.
|
||
|
||
It is just at those junctures when the idealistic attitude threatens to
|
||
disappear that we notice a weakening of this force which is a necessary
|
||
constituent in the founding and maintenance of the community and is
|
||
thereby a necessary condition of civilization. As soon as the spirit of
|
||
egotism begins to prevail among a people then the bonds of the social
|
||
order break and man, by seeking his own personal happiness, veritably
|
||
tumbles out of heaven and falls into hell.
|
||
|
||
Posterity will not remember those who pursued only their own individual
|
||
interests, but it will praise those heroes who renounced their own
|
||
happiness.
|
||
|
||
The Jew offers the most striking contrast to the Aryan. There is
|
||
probably no other people in the world who have so developed the instinct
|
||
of self-preservation as the so-called 'chosen' people. The best proof of
|
||
this statement is found in the simple fact that this race still exists.
|
||
Where can another people be found that in the course of the last two
|
||
thousand years has undergone so few changes in mental outlook and
|
||
character as the Jewish people? And yet what other people has taken such
|
||
a constant part in the great revolutions? But even after having passed
|
||
through the most gigantic catastrophes that have overwhelmed mankind,
|
||
the Jews remain the same as ever. What an infinitely tenacious
|
||
will-to-live, to preserve one's kind, is demonstrated by that fact!
|
||
|
||
The intellectual faculties of the Jew have been trained through
|
||
thousands of years. To-day the Jew is looked upon as specially
|
||
'cunning'; and in a certain sense he has been so throughout the ages.
|
||
His intellectual powers, however, are not the result of an inner
|
||
evolution but rather have been shaped by the object-lessons which the
|
||
Jew has received from others. The human spirit cannot climb upwards
|
||
without taking successive steps. For every step upwards it needs the
|
||
foundation of what has been constructed before--the past--which in, the
|
||
comprehensive sense here employed, can have been laid only in a general
|
||
civilization. All thinking originates only to a very small degree in
|
||
personal experience. The largest part is based on the accumulated
|
||
experiences of the past. The general level of civilization provides the
|
||
individual, who in most cases is not consciously aware of the fact, with
|
||
such an abundance of preliminary knowledge that with this equipment he
|
||
can more easily take further steps on the road of progress. The boy of
|
||
to-day, for example, grows up among such an overwhelming mass of
|
||
technical achievement which has accumulated during the last century that
|
||
he takes as granted many things which a hundred years ago were still
|
||
mysteries even to the greatest minds of those times. Yet these things
|
||
that are not so much a matter of course are of enormous importance to
|
||
those who would understand the progress we have made in these matters
|
||
and would carry on that progress a step farther. If a man of genius
|
||
belonging to the 'twenties of the last century were to arise from his
|
||
grave to-day he would find it more difficult to understand our present
|
||
age than the contemporary boy of fifteen years of age who may even have
|
||
only an average intelligence. The man of genius, thus come back from the
|
||
past, would need to provide himself with an extraordinary amount of
|
||
preliminary information which our contemporary youth receive
|
||
automatically, so to speak, during the time they are growing up among
|
||
the products of our modern civilization.
|
||
|
||
Since the Jew--for reasons that I shall deal with immediately--never had
|
||
a civilization of his own, he has always been furnished by others with a
|
||
basis for his: intellectual work. His intellect has always developed by
|
||
the use of those cultural achievements which he has found ready-to-hand
|
||
around him.
|
||
|
||
The process has never been the reverse.
|
||
|
||
For, though among the Jews the instinct of self-preservation has not
|
||
been weaker but has been much stronger than among other peoples, and
|
||
though the impression may easily be created that the intellectual powers
|
||
of the Jew are at least equal to those of other races, the Jews
|
||
completely lack the most essential pre-requisite of a cultural people,
|
||
namely the idealistic spirit. With the Jewish people the readiness for
|
||
sacrifice does not extend beyond the simple instinct of individual
|
||
preservation. In their case the feeling of racial solidarity which they
|
||
apparently manifest is nothing but a very primitive gregarious instinct,
|
||
similar to that which may be found among other organisms in this world.
|
||
It is a remarkable fact that this herd instinct brings individuals
|
||
together for mutual protection only as long as there is a common danger
|
||
which makes mutual assistance expedient or inevitable. The same pack of
|
||
wolves which a moment ago joined together in a common attack on their
|
||
victim will dissolve into individual wolves as soon as their hunger has
|
||
been satisfied. This is also sure of horses, which unite to defend
|
||
themselves against any aggressor but separate the moment the danger is
|
||
over.
|
||
|
||
It is much the same with the Jew. His spirit of sacrifice is only
|
||
apparent. It manifests itself only so long as the existence of the
|
||
individual makes this a matter of absolute necessity. But as soon as the
|
||
common foe is conquered and the danger which threatened the individual
|
||
Jews is overcome and the prey secured, then the apparent harmony
|
||
disappears and the original conditions set in again. Jews act in concord
|
||
only when a common danger threatens them or a common prey attracts them.
|
||
Where these two motives no longer exist then the most brutal egotism
|
||
appears and these people who before had lived together in unity will
|
||
turn into a swarm of rats that bitterly fight against each other.
|
||
|
||
If the Jews were the only people in the world they would be wallowing in
|
||
filth and mire and would exploit one another and try to exterminate one
|
||
another in a bitter struggle, except in so far as their utter lack of
|
||
the ideal of sacrifice, which shows itself in their cowardly spirit,
|
||
would prevent this struggle from developing.
|
||
|
||
Therefore it would be a complete mistake to interpret the mutual help
|
||
which the Jews render one another when they have to fight--or, to put it
|
||
more accurately, to exploit--their fellow being, as the expression of a
|
||
certain idealistic spirit of sacrifice.
|
||
|
||
Here again the Jew merely follows the call of his individual egotism.
|
||
That is why the Jewish State, which ought to be a vital organization to
|
||
serve the purpose of preserving or increasing the race, has absolutely
|
||
no territorial boundaries. For the territorial delimitation of a State
|
||
always demands a certain idealism of spirit on the part of the race
|
||
which forms that State and especially a proper acceptance of the idea of
|
||
work. A State which is territorially delimited cannot be established or
|
||
maintained unless the general attitude towards work be a positive one.
|
||
If this attitude be lacking, then the necessary basis of a civilization
|
||
is also lacking.
|
||
|
||
That is why the Jewish people, despite the intellectual powers with
|
||
which they are apparently endowed, have not a culture--certainly not a
|
||
culture of their own. The culture which the Jew enjoys to-day is the
|
||
product of the work of others and this product is debased in the hands
|
||
of the Jew.
|
||
|
||
In order to form a correct judgment of the place which the Jew holds in
|
||
relation to the whole problem of human civilization, we must bear in
|
||
mind the essential fact that there never has been any Jewish art and
|
||
consequently that nothing of this kind exists to-day. We must realize
|
||
that especially in those two royal domains of art, namely architecture
|
||
and music, the Jew has done no original creative work. When the Jew
|
||
comes to producing something in the field of art he merely bowdler-izes
|
||
something already in existence or simply steals the intellectual word,
|
||
of others. The Jew essentially lacks those qualities which are
|
||
characteristic of those creative races that are the founders of
|
||
civilization.
|
||
|
||
To what extent the Jew appropriates the civilization built up by
|
||
others--or rather corrupts it, to speak more accurately--is indicated by
|
||
the fact that he cultivates chiefly the art which calls for the smallest
|
||
amount of original invention, namely the dramatic art. And even here he
|
||
is nothing better than a kind of juggler or, perhaps more correctly
|
||
speaking, a kind of monkey imitator; for in this domain also he lacks
|
||
the creative elan which is necessary for the production of all really
|
||
great work. Even here, therefore, he is not a creative genius but rather
|
||
a superficial imitator who, in spite of all his retouching and tricks,
|
||
cannot disguise the fact that there is no inner vitality in the shape he
|
||
gives his products. At this juncture the Jewish Press comes in and
|
||
renders friendly assistance by shouting hosannas over the head of even
|
||
the most ordinary bungler of a Jew, until the rest of the world is
|
||
stampeded into thinking that the object of so much praise must really be
|
||
an artist, whereas in reality he may be nothing more than a low-class
|
||
mimic.
|
||
|
||
No; the Jews have not the creative abilities which are necessary to the
|
||
founding of a civilization; for in them there is not, and never has
|
||
been, that spirit of idealism which is an absolutely necessary element
|
||
in the higher development of mankind. Therefore the Jewish intellect
|
||
will never be constructive but always destructive. At best it may serve
|
||
as a stimulus in rare cases but only within the meaning of the poet's
|
||
lines: 'THE POWER WHICH ALWAYS WILLS THE BAD, AND ALWAYS WORKS THE GOOD'
|
||
(KRAFT, DIE STETS DAS B<>SE WILL UND STETS DAS GUTE SCHAFFT). (Note 15) It
|
||
is not through his help but in spite of his help that mankind makes any
|
||
progress.
|
||
|
||
[Note 15. When Mephistopheles first appears to Faust, in the latter's
|
||
study, Faust inquires: "What is thy name?" To which Mephistopheles
|
||
replies: "A part ofthe Power which always wills the Bad and always works
|
||
the Good." And when Faust asks him what is meant by this riddle and why he
|
||
should call himself'a part,' the gist of Mephistopheles' reply is that he
|
||
is the Spirit of Negation and exists through opposition to the positive
|
||
Truth and Order and Beauty which proceed from the never-ending creative
|
||
energy of the Deity. In the Prologue to Faust the Lord declares that
|
||
man's active nature would grow sluggishin working the good and that
|
||
therefore he has to be aroused by the Spirit of Opposition. This Spirit
|
||
wills the Bad, but of itself it can do nothing positive, and by its
|
||
opposition always works the opposite of what it wills.]
|
||
|
||
Since the Jew has never had a State which was based on territorial
|
||
delimitations, and therefore never a civilization of his own, the idea
|
||
arose that here we were dealing with a people who had to be considered
|
||
as Nomads. That is a great and mischievous mistake. The true nomad does
|
||
actually possess a definite delimited territory where he lives. It is
|
||
merely that he does not cultivate it, as the settled farmer does, but
|
||
that he lives on the products of his herds, with which he wanders over
|
||
his domain. The natural reason for this mode of existence is to be found
|
||
in the fact that the soil is not fertile and that it does not give the
|
||
steady produce which makes a fixed abode possible. Outside of this
|
||
natural cause, however, there is a more profound cause: namely, that no
|
||
mechanical civilization is at hand to make up for the natural poverty of
|
||
the region in question. There are territories where the Aryan can
|
||
establish fixed settlements by means of the technical skill which he has
|
||
developed in the course of more than a thousand years, even though these
|
||
territories would otherwise have to be abandoned, unless the Aryan were
|
||
willing to wander about them in nomadic fashion; but his technical
|
||
tradition and his age-long experience of the use of technical means
|
||
would probably make the nomadic life unbearable for him. We ought to
|
||
remember that during the first period of American colonization numerous
|
||
Aryans earned their daily livelihood as trappers and hunters, etc.,
|
||
frequently wandering about in large groups with their women and
|
||
children, their mode of existence very much resembling that of ordinary
|
||
nomads. The moment, however, that they grew more numerous and were able
|
||
to accumulate larger resources, they cleared the land and drove out the
|
||
aborigines, at the same time establishing settlements which rapidly
|
||
increased all over the country.
|
||
|
||
The Aryan himself was probably at first a nomad and became a settler in
|
||
the course of ages. But yet he was never of the Jewish kind. The Jew is
|
||
not a nomad; for the nomad has already a definite attitude towards the
|
||
concept of 'work', and this attitude served as the basis of a later
|
||
cultural development, when the necessary intellectual conditions were at
|
||
hand. There is a certain amount of idealism in the general attitude of
|
||
the nomad, even though it be rather primitive. His whole character may,
|
||
therefore, be foreign to Aryan feeling but it will never be repulsive.
|
||
But not even the slightest trace of idealism exists in the Jewish
|
||
character. The Jew has never been a nomad, but always a parasite,
|
||
battening on the substance of others. If he occasionally abandoned
|
||
regions where he had hitherto lived he did not do it voluntarily. He did
|
||
it because from time to time he was driven out by people who were tired
|
||
of having their hospitality abused by such guests. Jewish self-expansion
|
||
is a parasitic phenomenon--since the Jew is always looking for new
|
||
pastures for his race.
|
||
|
||
But this has nothing to do with nomadic life as such; because the Jew
|
||
does not ever think of leaving a territory which he has once occupied.
|
||
He sticks where he is with such tenacity that he can hardly be driven
|
||
out even by superior physical force. He expands into new territories
|
||
only when certain conditions for his existence are provided therein; but
|
||
even then--unlike the nomad--he will not change his former abode. He is
|
||
and remains a parasite, a sponger who, like a pernicious bacillus,
|
||
spreads over wider and wider areas according as some favourable area
|
||
attracts him. The effect produced by his presence is also like that of
|
||
the vampire; for wherever he establishes himself the people who grant
|
||
him hospitality are bound to be bled to death sooner or later. Thus the
|
||
Jew has at all times lived in States that have belonged to other races
|
||
and within the organization of those States he had formed a State of his
|
||
own, which is, however, hidden behind the mask of a 'religious
|
||
community', as long as external circumstances do not make it advisable
|
||
for this community to declare its true nature. As soon as the Jew feels
|
||
himself sufficiently established in his position to be able to hold it
|
||
without a disguise, he lifts the mask and suddenly appears in the
|
||
character which so many did not formerly believe or wish to see: namely
|
||
that of the Jew.
|
||
|
||
The life which the Jew lives as a parasite thriving on the substance of
|
||
other nations and States has resulted in developing that specific
|
||
character which Schopenhauer once described when he spoke of the Jew as
|
||
'The Great Master of Lies'. The kind of existence which he leads forces
|
||
the Jew to the systematic use of falsehood, just as naturally as the
|
||
inhabitants of northern climates are forced to wear warm clothes.
|
||
|
||
He can live among other nations and States only as long as he succeeds
|
||
in persuading them that the Jews are not a distinct people but the
|
||
representatives of a religious faith who thus constitute a 'religious
|
||
community', though this be of a peculiar character.
|
||
|
||
As a matter of fact, however, this is the first of his great falsehoods.
|
||
|
||
He is obliged to conceal his own particular character and mode of life
|
||
that he may be allowed to continue his existence as a parasite among the
|
||
nations. The greater the intelligence of the individual Jew, the better
|
||
will he succeed in deceiving others. His success in this line may even
|
||
go so far that the people who grant him hospitality may be led to
|
||
believe that the Jew among them is a genuine Frenchman, for instance, or
|
||
Englishman or German or Italian, who just happens to belong to a
|
||
religious denomination which is different from that prevailing in these
|
||
countries. Especially in circles concerned with the executive
|
||
administration of the State, where the officials generally have only a
|
||
minimum of historical sense, the Jew is able to impose his infamous
|
||
deception with comparative ease. In these circles independent thinking
|
||
is considered a sin against the sacred rules according to which official
|
||
promotion takes place. It is therefore not surprising that even to-day
|
||
in the Bavarian government offices, for example, there is not the
|
||
slightest suspicion that the Jews form a distinct nation themselves and
|
||
are not merely the adherents of a 'Confession', though one glance at the
|
||
Press which belongs to the Jews ought to furnish sufficient evidence to
|
||
the contrary even for those who possess only the smallest degree of
|
||
intelligence. The JEWISH ECHO, however, is not an official gazette and
|
||
therefore not authoritative in the eyes of those government potentates.
|
||
|
||
Jewry has always been a nation of a definite racial character and never
|
||
differentiated merely by the fact of belonging to a certain religion. At
|
||
a very early date, urged on by the desire to make their way in the
|
||
world, the Jews began to cast about for a means whereby they might
|
||
distract such attention as might prove inconvenient for them. What could
|
||
be more effective and at the same time more above suspicion than to
|
||
borrow and utilize the idea of the religious community? Here also
|
||
everything is copied, or rather stolen; for the Jew could not possess
|
||
any religious institution which had developed out of his own
|
||
consciousness, seeing that he lacks every kind of idealism; which means
|
||
that belief in a life beyond this terrestrial existence is foreign to
|
||
him. In the Aryan mind no religion can ever be imagined unless it
|
||
embodies the conviction that life in some form or other will continue
|
||
after death. As a matter of fact, the Talmud is not a book that lays
|
||
down principles according to which the individual should prepare for the
|
||
life to come. It only furnishes rules for a practical and convenient
|
||
life in this world.
|
||
|
||
The religious teaching of the Jews is principally a collection of
|
||
instructions for maintaining the Jewish blood pure and for regulating
|
||
intercourse between Jews and the rest of the world: that is to say,
|
||
their relation with non-Jews. But the Jewish religious teaching is not
|
||
concerned with moral problems. It is rather concerned with economic
|
||
problems, and very petty ones at that. In regard to the moral value of
|
||
the religious teaching of the Jews there exist and always have existed
|
||
quite exhaustive studies (not from the Jewish side; for whatever the
|
||
Jews have written on this question has naturally always been of a
|
||
tendentious character) which show up the kind of religion that the Jews
|
||
have in a light that makes it look very uncanny to the Aryan mind. The
|
||
Jew himself is the best example of the kind of product which this
|
||
religious training evolves. His life is of this world only and his
|
||
mentality is as foreign to the true spirit of Christianity as his
|
||
character was foreign to the great Founder of this new creed two
|
||
thousand years ago. And the Founder of Christianity made no secret
|
||
indeed of His estimation of the Jewish people. When He found it
|
||
necessary He drove those enemies of the human race out of the Temple of
|
||
God; because then, as always, they used religion as a means of advancing
|
||
their commercial interests. But at that time Christ was nailed to the
|
||
Cross for his attitude towards the Jews; whereas our modern Christians
|
||
enter into party politics and when elections are being held they debase
|
||
themselves to beg for Jewish votes. They even enter into political
|
||
intrigues with the atheistic Jewish parties against the interests of
|
||
their own Christian nation.
|
||
|
||
On this first and fundamental lie, the purpose of which is to make
|
||
people believe that Jewry is not a nation but a religion, other lies are
|
||
subsequently based. One of those further lies, for example, is in
|
||
connection with the language spoken by the Jew. For him language is not
|
||
an instrument for the expression of his inner thoughts but rather a
|
||
means of cloaking them. When talking French his thoughts are Jewish and
|
||
when writing German rhymes he only gives expression to the character of
|
||
his own race.
|
||
|
||
As long as the Jew has not succeeded in mastering other peoples he is
|
||
forced to speak their language whether he likes it or not. But the
|
||
moment that the world would become the slave of the Jew it would have to
|
||
learn some other language (Esperanto, for example) so that by this means
|
||
the Jew could dominate all the more easily.
|
||
|
||
How much the whole existence of this people is based on a permanent
|
||
falsehood is proved in a unique way by 'The Protocols of the Elders of
|
||
Zion', which are so violently repudiated by the Jews. With groans and
|
||
moans, the FRANKFURTER ZEITUNG repeats again and again that these are
|
||
forgeries. This alone is evidence in favour of their authenticity. What
|
||
many Jews unconsciously wish to do is here clearly set forth. It is not
|
||
necessary to ask out of what Jewish brain these revelations sprang; but
|
||
what is of vital interest is that they disclose, with an almost
|
||
terrifying precision, the mentality and methods of action characteristic
|
||
of the Jewish people and these writings expound in all their various
|
||
directions the final aims towards which the Jews are striving. The study
|
||
of real happenings, however, is the best way of judging the authenticity
|
||
of those documents. If the historical developments which have taken
|
||
place within the last few centuries be studied in the light of this book
|
||
we shall understand why the Jewish Press incessantly repudiates and
|
||
denounces it. For the Jewish peril will be stamped out the moment the
|
||
general public come into possession of that book and understand it.
|
||
|
||
In order to get to know the Jew properly it is necessary to study the
|
||
road which he has been following among the other peoples during the last
|
||
few centuries. One example will suffice to give a clear insight here.
|
||
Since his career has been the same at all epochs--just as the people at
|
||
whose expense he has lived have remained the same--for the purposes of
|
||
making the requisite analysis it will be best to mark his progress by
|
||
stages. For the sake of simplicity we shall indicate these stages by
|
||
letters of the alphabet.
|
||
|
||
The first Jews came into what was then called Germania during the period
|
||
of the Roman invasion; and, as usual, they came as merchants. During the
|
||
turmoil caused by the great migrations of the German tribes the Jews
|
||
seem to have disappeared. We may therefore consider the period when the
|
||
Germans formed the first political communities as the beginning of that
|
||
process whereby Central and Northern Europe was again, and this time
|
||
permanently, Judaized. A development began which has always been the
|
||
same or similar wherever and whenever Jews came into contact with Aryan
|
||
peoples.
|
||
|
||
(a) As soon as the first permanent settlements had been established the
|
||
Jew was suddenly 'there'. He arrived as a merchant and in the beginning
|
||
did not trouble to disguise his nationality. He still remained openly a
|
||
Jew, partly it may be because he knew too little of the language. It may
|
||
also be that people of other races refused to mix with him, so that he
|
||
could not very well adopt any other appearance than that of a foreign
|
||
merchant. Because of his subtlety and cunning and the lack of experience
|
||
on the part of the people whose guest he became, it was not to his
|
||
disadvantage openly to retain his Jewish character. This may even have
|
||
been advantageous to him; for the foreigner was received kindly.
|
||
|
||
(b) Slowly but steadily he began to take part in the economic life
|
||
around him; not as a producer, however, but only as a middleman. His
|
||
commercial cunning, acquired through thousands of years of negotiation
|
||
as an intermediary, made him superior in this field to the Aryans, who
|
||
were still quite ingenuous and indeed clumsy and whose honesty was
|
||
unlimited; so that after a short while commerce seemed destined to
|
||
become a Jewish monopoly. The Jew began by lending out money at usurious
|
||
interest, which is a permanent trade of his. It was he who first
|
||
introduced the payment of interest on borrowed money. The danger which
|
||
this innovation involved was not at first recognized; indeed the
|
||
innovation was welcomed, because it offered momentary advantages.
|
||
|
||
(c) At this stage the Jew had become firmly settled down; that is to
|
||
say, he inhabited special sections of the cities and towns and had his
|
||
own quarter in the market-places. Thus he gradually came to form a State
|
||
within a State. He came to look upon the commercial domain and all money
|
||
transactions as a privilege belonging exclusively to himself and he
|
||
exploited it ruthlessly.
|
||
|
||
(d) At this stage finance and trade had become his complete monopoly.
|
||
Finally, his usurious rate of interest aroused opposition and the
|
||
increasing impudence which the Jew began to manifest all round stirred
|
||
up popular indignation, while his display of wealth gave rise to popular
|
||
envy. The cup of his iniquity became full to the brim when he included
|
||
landed property among his commercial wares and degraded the soil to the
|
||
level of a market commodity. Since he himself never cultivated the soil
|
||
but considered it as an object to be exploited, on which the peasant may
|
||
still remain but only on condition that he submits to the most heartless
|
||
exactions of his new master, public antipathy against the Jew steadily
|
||
increased and finally turned into open animosity. His extortionate
|
||
tyranny became so unbearable that people rebelled against his control
|
||
and used physical violence against him. They began to scrutinize this
|
||
foreigner somewhat more closely, and then began to discover the
|
||
repulsive traits and characteristics inherent in him, until finally an
|
||
abyss opened between the Jews and their hosts, across which abyss there
|
||
could be no further contact.
|
||
|
||
In times of distress a wave of public anger has usually arisen against
|
||
the Jew; the masses have taken the law into their own hands; they have
|
||
seized Jewish property and ruined the Jew in their urge to protect
|
||
themselves against what they consider to be a scourge of God. Having
|
||
come to know the Jew intimately through the course of centuries, in
|
||
times of distress they looked upon his presence among them as a public
|
||
danger comparable only to the plague.
|
||
|
||
(e) But then the Jew began to reveal his true character. He paid court
|
||
to governments, with servile flattery, used his money to ingratiate
|
||
himself further and thus regularly secured for himself once again the
|
||
privilege of exploiting his victim. Although public wrath flared up
|
||
against this eternal profiteer and drove him out, after a few years he
|
||
reappeared in those same places and carried on as before. No persecution
|
||
could force him to give up his trade of exploiting other people and no
|
||
amount of harrying succeeded in driving him out permanently. He always
|
||
returned after a short time and it was always the old story with him.
|
||
|
||
In an effort to save at least the worst from happening, legislation was
|
||
passed which debarred the Jew from obtaining possession of the land.
|
||
|
||
(f) In proportion as the powers of kings and princes increased, the Jew
|
||
sidled up to them. He begged for 'charters' and 'privileges' which those
|
||
gentlemen, who were generally in financial straits, gladly granted if
|
||
they received adequate payment in return. However high the price he has
|
||
to pay, the Jew will succeed in getting it back within a few years from
|
||
operating the privilege he has acquired, even with interest and compound
|
||
interest. He is a real leech who clings to the body of his unfortunate
|
||
victims and cannot be removed; so that when the princes found themselves
|
||
in need once again they took the blood from his swollen veins with their
|
||
own hands.
|
||
|
||
This game was repeated unendingly. In the case of those who were called
|
||
'German Princes', the part they played was quite as contemptible as that
|
||
played by the Jew. They were a real scourge for their people. Their
|
||
compeers may be found in some of the government ministers of our time.
|
||
|
||
It was due to the German princes that the German nation could not
|
||
succeed in definitely freeing itself from the Jewish peril.
|
||
Unfortunately the situation did not change at a later period. The
|
||
princes finally received the reward which they had a thousand-fold
|
||
deserved for all the crimes committed by them against their own people.
|
||
They had allied themselves with Satan and later on they discovered that
|
||
they were in Satan's embrace.
|
||
|
||
(g) By permitting themselves to be entangled in the toils of the Jew,
|
||
the princes prepared their own downfall. The position which they held
|
||
among their people was slowly but steadily undermined not only by their
|
||
continued failure to guard the interests of their subjects but by the
|
||
positive exploitation of them. The Jew calculated exactly the time when
|
||
the downfall of the princes was approaching and did his best to hasten
|
||
it. He intensified their financial difficulties by hindering them in the
|
||
exercise of their duty towards their people, by inveigling them through
|
||
the most servile flatteries into further personal display, whereby he
|
||
made himself more and more indispensable to them. His astuteness, or
|
||
rather his utter unscrupulousness, in money affairs enabled him to exact
|
||
new income from the princes, to squeeze the money out of them and then
|
||
have it spent as quickly as possible. Every Court had its 'Court Jews',
|
||
as this plague was called, who tortured the innocent victims until they
|
||
were driven to despair; while at the same time this Jew provided the
|
||
means which the princes squandered on their own pleasures. It is not to
|
||
be wondered at that these ornaments of the human race became the
|
||
recipients of official honours and even were admitted into the ranks of
|
||
the hereditary nobility, thus contributing not only to expose that
|
||
social institution to ridicule but also to contaminate it from the
|
||
inside.
|
||
|
||
Naturally the Jew could now exploit the position to which he had
|
||
attained and push himself forward even more rapidly than before. Finally
|
||
he became baptized and thus entitled to all the rights and privileges
|
||
which belonged to the children of the nation on which he preyed. This
|
||
was a high-class stroke of business for him, and he often availed
|
||
himself of it, to the great joy of the Church, which was proud of having
|
||
gained a new child in the Faith, and also to the joy of Israel, which
|
||
was happy at seeing the trick pulled off successfully.
|
||
|
||
(h) At this stage a transformation began to take place in the world of
|
||
Jewry. Up to now they had been Jews--that is to say, they did not
|
||
hitherto set any great value on pretending to be something else; and
|
||
anyhow the distinctive characteristics which separated them from other
|
||
races could not be easily overcome. Even as late as the time of
|
||
Frederick the Great nobody looked upon the Jews as other than a
|
||
'foreign' people, and Goethe rose up in revolt against the failure
|
||
legally to prohibit marriage between Christians and Jews. Goethe was
|
||
certainly no reactionary and no time-server. What he said came from the
|
||
voice of the blood and the voice of reason. Notwithstanding the
|
||
disgraceful happenings taking place in Court circles, the people
|
||
recognized instinctively that the Jew was the foreign body in their own
|
||
flesh and their attitude towards him was directed by recognition of that
|
||
fact.
|
||
|
||
But a change was now destined to take place. In the course of more than
|
||
a thousand years the Jew had learned to master the language of his hosts
|
||
so thoroughly that he considered he might now lay stress on his Jewish
|
||
character and emphasize the 'Germanism' a bit more. Though it must have
|
||
appeared ridiculous and absurd at first sight, he was impudent enough to
|
||
call himself a 'Teuton', which in this case meant a German. In that way
|
||
began one of the most infamous impositions that can be imagined. The Jew
|
||
did not possess the slightest traces of the German character. He had
|
||
only acquired the art of twisting the German language to his own uses,
|
||
and that in a disgusting way, without having assimilated any other
|
||
feature of the German character. Therefore his command of the language
|
||
was the sole ground on which he could pretend to be a German. It is not
|
||
however by the tie of language, but exclusively by the tie of blood that
|
||
the members of a race are bound together. And the Jew himself knows this
|
||
better than any other, seeing that he attaches so little importance to
|
||
the preservation of his own language while at the same time he strives
|
||
his utmost to maintain his blood free from intermixture with that of
|
||
other races. A man may acquire and use a new language without much
|
||
trouble; but it is only his old ideas that he expresses through the new
|
||
language. His inner nature is not modified thereby. The best proof of
|
||
this is furnished by the Jew himself. He may speak a thousand tongues
|
||
and yet his Jewish nature will remain always one and the same. His
|
||
distinguishing characteristics were the same when he spoke the Latin
|
||
language at Ostia two thousand years ago as a merchant in grain, as they
|
||
are to-day when he tries to sell adulterated flour with the aid of his
|
||
German gibberish. He is always the same Jew. That so obvious a fact is
|
||
not recognized by the average head-clerk in a German government
|
||
department, or by an officer in the police administration, is also a
|
||
self-evident and natural fact; since it would be difficult to find
|
||
another class of people who are so lacking in instinct and intelligence
|
||
as the civil servants employed by our modern German State authorities.
|
||
|
||
The reason why, at the stage I am dealing with, the Jew so suddenly
|
||
decided to transform himself into a German is not difficult to discover.
|
||
He felt the power of the princes slowly crumbling and therefore looked
|
||
about to find a new social plank on which he might stand. Furthermore,
|
||
his financial domination over all the spheres of economic life had
|
||
become so powerful that he felt he could no longer sustain that enormous
|
||
structure or add to it unless he were admitted to the full enjoyment of
|
||
the 'rights of citizenship.' He aimed at both, preservation and
|
||
expansion; for the higher he could climb the more alluring became the
|
||
prospect of reaching the old goal, which was promised to him in ancient
|
||
times, namely world-rulership, and which he now looked forward to with
|
||
feverish eyes, as he thought he saw it visibly approaching. Therefore
|
||
all his efforts were now directed to becoming a fully-fledged citizen,
|
||
endowed with all civil and political rights.
|
||
|
||
That was the reason for his emancipation from the Ghetto.
|
||
|
||
(i) And thus the Court Jew slowly developed into the national Jew. But
|
||
naturally he still remained associated with persons in higher quarters
|
||
and he even attempted to push his way further into the inner circles of
|
||
the ruling set. But at the same time some other representatives of his
|
||
race were currying favour with the people. If we remember the crimes the
|
||
Jew had committed against the masses of the people in the course of so
|
||
many centuries, how repeatedly and ruthlessly he exploited them and how
|
||
he sucked out even the very marrow of their substance, and when we
|
||
further remember how they gradually came to hate him and finally
|
||
considered him as a public scourge--then we may well understand how
|
||
difficult the Jew must have found this final transformation. Yes,
|
||
indeed, it must tax all their powers to be able to present themselves as
|
||
'friends of humanity' to the poor victims whom they have skinned raw.
|
||
|
||
Therefore the Jew began by making public amends for the crimes which he
|
||
had committed against the people in the past. He started his
|
||
metamorphosis by first appearing as the 'benefactor' of humanity. Since
|
||
his new philanthropic policy had a very concrete aim in view, he could
|
||
not very well apply to himself the biblical counsel, not to allow the
|
||
left hand to know what the right hand is giving. He felt obliged to let
|
||
as many people as possible know how deeply the sufferings of the masses
|
||
grieved him and to what excesses of personal sacrifice he was ready to
|
||
go in order to help them. With this manifestation of innate modesty, so
|
||
typical of the Jew, he trumpeted his virtues before the world until
|
||
finally the world actually began to believe him. Those who refused to
|
||
share this belief were considered to be doing him an injustice. Thus
|
||
after a little while he began to twist things around, so as to make it
|
||
appear that it was he who had always been wronged, and vice versa. There
|
||
were really some particularly foolish people who could not help pitying
|
||
this poor unfortunate creature of a Jew.
|
||
|
||
Attention may be called to the fact that, in spite of his proclaimed
|
||
readiness to make personal sacrifices, the Jew never becomes poor
|
||
thereby. He has a happy knack of always making both ends meet.
|
||
Occasionally his benevolence might be compared to the manure which is
|
||
not spread over the field merely for the purpose of getting rid of it,
|
||
but rather with a view to future produce. Anyhow, after a comparatively
|
||
short period of time, the world was given to know that the Jew had
|
||
become a general benefactor and philanthropist. What a transformation!
|
||
|
||
What is looked upon as more or less natural when done by other people
|
||
here became an object of astonishment, and even sometimes of admiration,
|
||
because it was considered so unusual in a Jew. That is why he has
|
||
received more credit for his acts of benevolence than ordinary mortals.
|
||
|
||
And something more: The Jew became liberal all of a sudden and began to
|
||
talk enthusiastically of how human progress must be encouraged.
|
||
Gradually he assumed the air of being the herald of a new age.
|
||
|
||
Yet at the same time he continued to undermine the ground-work of that
|
||
part of the economic system in which the people have the most practical
|
||
interest. He bought up stock in the various national undertakings and
|
||
thus pushed his influence into the circuit of national production,
|
||
making this latter an object of buying and selling on the stock
|
||
exchange, or rather what might be called the pawn in a financial game of
|
||
chess, and thus ruining the basis on which personal proprietorship alone
|
||
is possible. Only with the entrance of the Jew did that feeling of
|
||
estrangement, between employers and employees begin which led at a later
|
||
date to the political class-struggle.
|
||
|
||
Finally the Jew gained an increasing influence in all economic
|
||
undertakings by means of his predominance in the stock-exchange. If not
|
||
the ownership, at least he secured control of the working power of the
|
||
nation.
|
||
|
||
In order to strengthen his political position, he directed his efforts
|
||
towards removing the barrier of racial and civic discrimination which
|
||
had hitherto hindered his advance at every turn. With characteristic
|
||
tenacity he championed the cause of religious tolerance for this
|
||
purpose; and in the freemason organization, which had fallen completely
|
||
into his hands, he found a magnificent weapon which helped him to
|
||
achieve his ends. Government circles, as well as the higher sections of
|
||
the political and commercial bourgeoisie, fell a prey to his plans
|
||
through his manipulation of the masonic net, though they themselves did
|
||
not even suspect what was happening.
|
||
|
||
Only the people as such, or rather the masses which were just becoming
|
||
conscious of their own power and were beginning to use it in the fight
|
||
for their rights and liberties, had hitherto escaped the grip of the
|
||
Jew. At least his influence had not yet penetrated to the deeper and
|
||
wider sections of the people. This was unsatisfactory to him. The most
|
||
important phase of his policy was therefore to secure control over the
|
||
people. The Jew realized that in his efforts to reach the position of
|
||
public despot he would need a 'peace-maker.' And he thought he could
|
||
find a peace-maker if he could whip-in sufficient extensive sections of
|
||
the bourgeois. But the freemasons failed to catch the
|
||
glove-manufacturers and the linen-weavers in the frail meshes of their
|
||
net. And so it became necessary to find a grosser and withal a more
|
||
effective means. Thus another weapon beside that of freemasonry would
|
||
have to be secured. This was the Press. The Jew exercised all his skill
|
||
and tenacity in getting hold of it. By means of the Press he began
|
||
gradually to control public life in its entirety. He began to drive it
|
||
along the road which he had chosen to reach his own ends; for he was now
|
||
in a position to create and direct that force which, under the name of
|
||
'public opinion' is better known to-day than it was some decades ago.
|
||
|
||
Simultaneously the Jew gave himself the air of thirsting after
|
||
knowledge. He lauded every phase of progress, particularly those phases
|
||
which led to the ruin of others; for he judges all progress and
|
||
development from the standpoint of the advantages which these bring to
|
||
his own people. When it brings him no such advantages he is the deadly
|
||
enemy of enlightenment and hates all culture which is real culture as
|
||
such. All the knowledge which he acquires in the schools of others is
|
||
exploited by him exclusively in the service of his own race.
|
||
|
||
Even more watchfully than ever before, he now stood guard over his
|
||
Jewish nationality. Though bubbling over with 'enlightenment',
|
||
'progress', 'liberty', 'humanity', etc., his first care was to preserve
|
||
the racial integrity of his own people. He occasionally bestowed one of
|
||
his female members on an influential Christian; but the racial stock of
|
||
his male descendants was always preserved unmixed fundamentally. He
|
||
poisons the blood of others but preserves his own blood unadulterated.
|
||
The Jew scarcely ever marries a Christian girl, but the Christian takes
|
||
a Jewess to wife. The mongrels that are a result of this latter union
|
||
always declare themselves on the Jewish side. Thus a part of the higher
|
||
nobility in particular became completely degenerate. The Jew was well
|
||
aware of this fact and systematically used this means of disarming the
|
||
intellectual leaders of the opposite race. To mask his tactics and fool
|
||
his victims, he talks of the equality of all men, no matter what their
|
||
race or colour may be. And the simpletons begin to believe him.
|
||
|
||
Since his whole nature still retains too foreign an odour for the broad
|
||
masses of the people to allow themselves to be caught in his snare, he
|
||
uses the Press to put before the public a picture of himself which is
|
||
entirely untrue to life but well designed to serve his purpose. In the
|
||
comic papers special efforts are made to represent the Jews as an
|
||
inoffensive little race which, like all others, has its peculiarities.
|
||
In spite of their manners, which may seem a bit strange, the comic
|
||
papers present the Jews as fundamentally good-hearted and honourable.
|
||
Attempts are generally made to make them appear insignificant rather
|
||
than dangerous.
|
||
|
||
During this phase of his progress the chief goal of the Jew was the
|
||
victory of democracy, or rather the supreme hegemony of the
|
||
parliamentary system, which embodies his concept of democracy. This
|
||
institution harmonises best with his purposes; for thus the personal
|
||
element is eliminated and in its place we have the dunder-headed
|
||
majority, inefficiency and, last but by no means least, knavery.
|
||
|
||
The final result must necessarily have been the overthrow of the
|
||
monarchy, which had to happen sooner or later.
|
||
|
||
(j) A tremendous economic development transformed the social structure
|
||
of the nation. The small artisan class slowly disappeared and the
|
||
factory worker, who took its place, had scarcely any chance of
|
||
establishing an independent existence of his own but sank more and more
|
||
to the level of a proletariat. An essential characteristic of the
|
||
factory worker is that he is scarcely ever able to provide for an
|
||
independent source of livelihood which will support him in later life.
|
||
In the true sense of the word, he is 'disinherited'. His old age is a
|
||
misery to him and can hardly be called life at all.
|
||
|
||
In earlier times a similar situation had been created, which had
|
||
imperatively demanded a solution and for which a solution was found.
|
||
Side by side with the peasant and the artisan, a new class was gradually
|
||
developed, namely that of officials and employees, especially those
|
||
employed in the various services of the State. They also were a
|
||
'disinherited' class, in the true sense of the word. But the State found
|
||
a remedy for this unhealthy situation by taking upon itself the duty of
|
||
providing for the State official who could establish nothing that would
|
||
be an independent means of livelihood for himself in his old age. Thus
|
||
the system of pensions and retiring allowances was introduced. Private
|
||
enterprises slowly followed this example in increasing numbers; so that
|
||
to-day every permanent non-manual worker receives a pension in his later
|
||
years, if the firm which he has served is one that has reached or gone
|
||
beyond a certain size. It was only by virtue of the assurance given of
|
||
State officials, that they would be cared for in their old age. that
|
||
such a high degree of unselfish devotion to duty was developed, which in
|
||
pre-war times was one of the distinguising characteristics of German
|
||
officials.
|
||
|
||
Thus a whole class which had no personal property was saved from
|
||
destitution by an intelligent system of provision, and found a place in
|
||
the social structure of the national community.
|
||
|
||
The problem is now put before the State and nation, but this time in a
|
||
much larger form. When the new industries sprang up and developed,
|
||
millions of people left the countryside and the villages to take up
|
||
employment in the big factories. The conditions under which this new
|
||
class found itself forced to live were worse than miserable. The more or
|
||
less mechanical transformation of the methods of work hitherto in vogue
|
||
among the artisans and peasants did not fit in well with the habits or
|
||
mentality of this new working-class. The way in which the peasants and
|
||
artisans had formerly worked had nothing comparable to the intensive
|
||
labour of the new factory worker. In the old trades time did not play a
|
||
highly important role, but it became an essential element in the new
|
||
industrial system. The formal taking over of the old working hours into
|
||
the mammoth industrial enterprises had fatal results. The actual amount
|
||
of work hitherto accomplished within a certain time was comparatively
|
||
small, because the modern methods of intensive production were then
|
||
unknown. Therefore, though in the older system a working day of fourteen
|
||
or even fifteen hours was not unendurable, now it was beyond the
|
||
possibilities of human endurance because in the new system every minute
|
||
was utilized to the extreme. This absurd transference of the old working
|
||
hours to the new industrial system proved fatal in two directions.
|
||
First, it ruined the health of the workers; secondly, it destroyed their
|
||
faith in a superior law of justice. Finally, on the one hand a miserable
|
||
wage was received and, on the other, the employer held a much more
|
||
lucrative position than before. Hence a striking difference between the
|
||
ways of life on the one side and on the other.
|
||
|
||
In the open country there could be no social problem, because the master
|
||
and the farm-hand were doing the same kind of work and doing it
|
||
together. They ate their food in common, and sometimes even out of the
|
||
same dish. But in this sphere also the new system introduced an entirely
|
||
different set of conditions between masters and men.
|
||
|
||
The division created between employer and employees seems not to have
|
||
extended to all branches of life. How far this Judaizing process has
|
||
been allowed to take effect among our people is illustrated by the fact
|
||
that manual labour not only receives practically no recognition but is
|
||
even considered degrading. That is not a natural German attitude. It is
|
||
due to the introduction of a foreign element into our lives, and that
|
||
foreign element is the Jewish spirit, one of the effects of which has
|
||
been to transform the high esteem in which our handicrafts once were
|
||
held into a definite feeling that all physical labour is something base
|
||
and unworthy.
|
||
|
||
Thus a new social class has grown up which stands in low esteem; and the
|
||
day must come when we shall have to face the question of whether the
|
||
nation will be able to make this class an integral part of the social
|
||
community or whether the difference of status now existing will become a
|
||
permanent gulf separating this class from the others.
|
||
|
||
One thing, however, is certain: This class does not include the worst
|
||
elements of the community in its ranks. Rather the contrary is the
|
||
truth: it includes the most energetic parts of the nation. The
|
||
sophistication which is the result of a so-called civilization has not
|
||
yet exercised its disintegrating and degenerating influence on this
|
||
class. The broad masses of this new lower class, constituted by the
|
||
manual labourers, have not yet fallen a prey to the morbid weakness of
|
||
pacifism. These are still robust and, if necessary, they can be brutal.
|
||
|
||
While our bourgeoisie middle class paid no attention at all to this
|
||
momentous problem and indifferently allowed events to take their course,
|
||
the Jew seized upon the manifold possibilities which the situation
|
||
offered him for the future. While on the one hand he organized
|
||
capitalistic methods of exploitation to their ultimate degree of
|
||
efficiency, he curried favour with the victims of his policy and his
|
||
power and in a short while became the leader of their struggle against
|
||
himself. 'Against himself' is here only a figurative way of speaking;
|
||
for this 'Great Master of Lies' knows how to appear in the guise of the
|
||
innocent and throw the guilt on others. Since he had the impudence to
|
||
take a personal lead among the masses, they never for a moment suspected
|
||
that they were falling a prey to one of the most infamous deceits ever
|
||
practised. And yet that is what it actually was.
|
||
|
||
The moment this new class had arisen out of the general economic
|
||
situation and taken shape as a definite body in the social order, the
|
||
Jew saw clearly where he would find the necessary pacemaker for his own
|
||
progressive march. At first he had used the bourgeois class as a
|
||
battering-ram against the feudal order; and now he used the worker
|
||
against the bourgeois world. Just as he succeeded in obtaining civic
|
||
rights by intrigues carried on under the protection of the bourgeois
|
||
class, he now hoped that by joining in the struggle which the workers
|
||
were waging for their own existence he would be able to obtain full
|
||
control over them.
|
||
|
||
When that moment arrives, then the only objective the workers will have
|
||
to fight for will be the future of the Jewish people. Without knowing
|
||
it, the worker is placing himself at the service of the very power
|
||
against which he believes he is fighting. Apparently he is made to fight
|
||
against capital and thus he is all the more easily brought to fight for
|
||
capitalist interests. Outcries are systematically raised against
|
||
international capital but in reality it is against the structure of
|
||
national economics that these slogans are directed. The idea is to
|
||
demolish this structure and on its ruins triumphantly erect the
|
||
structure of the International Stock Exchange.
|
||
|
||
In this line of action the procedure of the Jew was as follows:
|
||
|
||
He kowtowed to the worker, hypocritically pretended to feel pity for him
|
||
and his lot, and even to be indignant at the misery and poverty which
|
||
the worker had to endure. That is the way in which the Jew endeavoured
|
||
to gain the confidence of the working class. He showed himself eager to
|
||
study their various hardships, whether real or imaginary, and strove to
|
||
awaken a yearning on the part of the workers to change the conditions
|
||
under which they lived. The Jew artfully enkindled that innate yearning
|
||
for social justice which is a typical Aryan characteristic. Once that
|
||
yearning became alive it was transformed into hatred against those in
|
||
more fortunate circumstances of life. The next stage was to give a
|
||
precise philosophical aspect to the struggle for the elimination of
|
||
social wrongs. And thus the Marxist doctrine was invented.
|
||
|
||
By presenting his doctrine as part and parcel of a just revindication of
|
||
social rights, the Jew propagated the doctrine all the more effectively.
|
||
But at the same time he provoked the opposition of decent people who
|
||
refused to admit these demands which, because of the form and
|
||
pseudo-philosophical trimmings in which they are presented, seemed
|
||
fundamentally unjust and impossible for realization. For, under the
|
||
cloak of purely social concepts there are hidden aims which are of a
|
||
Satanic character. These aims are even expounded in the open with the
|
||
clarity of unlimited impudence. This Marxist doctrine is an individual
|
||
mixture of human reason and human absurdity; but the combination is
|
||
arranged in such a way that only the absurd part of it could ever be put
|
||
into practice, but never the reasonable part of it. By categorically
|
||
repudiating the personal worth of the individual and also the nation and
|
||
its racial constituent, this doctrine destroys the fundamental basis of
|
||
all civilization; for civilization essentially depends on these very
|
||
factors. Such is the true essence of the Marxist WELTANSCHAUUNG, so far
|
||
as the word WELTANSCHAUUNG can be applied at all to this phantom
|
||
arising from a criminal brain. The destruction of the concept of
|
||
personality and of race removes the chief obstacle which barred the way
|
||
to domination of the social body by its inferior elements, which are the
|
||
Jews.
|
||
|
||
The very absurdity of the economic and political theories of Marxism
|
||
gives the doctrine its peculiar significance. Because of its
|
||
pseudo-logic, intelligent people refuse to support it, while all those
|
||
who are less accustomed to use their intellectual faculties, or who have
|
||
only a rudimentary notion of economic principles, join the Marxist cause
|
||
with flying banners. The intelligence behind the movement--for even this
|
||
movement needs intelligence if it is to subsist--is supplied by the Jews
|
||
themselves, naturally of course as a gratuitous service which is at the
|
||
same time a sacrifice on their part.
|
||
|
||
Thus arose a movement which was composed exclusively of manual workers
|
||
under the leadership of Jews. To all external appearances, this movement
|
||
strives to ameliorate the conditions under which the workers live; but
|
||
in reality its aim is to enslave and thereby annihilate the non-Jewish
|
||
races.
|
||
|
||
The propaganda which the freemasons had carried on among the so-called
|
||
intelligentsia, whereby their pacifist teaching paralysed the instinct
|
||
for national self-preservation, was now extended to the broad masses of
|
||
the workers and bourgeoisie by means of the Press, which was almost
|
||
everywhere in Jewish hands. To those two instruments of disintegration a
|
||
third and still more ruthless one was added, namely, the organization of
|
||
brute physical force among the masses. As massed columns of attacks, the
|
||
Marxist troops stormed those parts of the social order which had been
|
||
left standing after the two former undermining operations had done their
|
||
work.
|
||
|
||
The combined activity of all these forces has been marvellously managed.
|
||
And it will not be surprising if it turns out that those institutions
|
||
which have always appeared as the organs of the more or less traditional
|
||
authority of the State should now fall before the Marxist attack. Among
|
||
our higher and highest State officials, with very few exceptions, the
|
||
Jew has found the cost complacent backers in his work of destruction. An
|
||
attitude of sneaking servility towards 'superiors' and supercilious
|
||
arrogance towards 'inferiors' are the characteristics of this class of
|
||
people, as well as a grade of stupidity which is really frightening and
|
||
at the same time a towering self-conceit, which has been so consistently
|
||
developed to make it amusing.
|
||
|
||
But these qualities are of the greatest utility to the Jew in his
|
||
dealings with our authorities. Therefore they are qualities which he
|
||
appreciates most in the officials.
|
||
|
||
If I were to sketch roughly the actual struggle which is now beginning I
|
||
should describe it somewhat thus:
|
||
|
||
Not satisfied with the economic conquest of the world, but also
|
||
demanding that it must come under his political control, the Jew
|
||
subdivides the organized Marxist power into two parts, which correspond
|
||
to the ultimate objectives that are to be fought for in this struggle
|
||
which is carried on under the direction of the Jew. To outward
|
||
appearance, these seem to be two independent movements, but in reality
|
||
they constitute an indivisible unity. The two divisions are: The
|
||
political movement and the trades union movement.
|
||
|
||
The trades union movement has to gather in the recruits. It offers
|
||
assistance and protection to the workers in the hard struggle which they
|
||
have to wage for the bare means of existence, a struggle which has been
|
||
occasioned by the greediness and narrow-mindedness of many of the
|
||
industrialists. Unless the workers be ready to surrender all claims to
|
||
an existence which the dignity of human nature itself demands, and
|
||
unless they are ready to submit their fate to the will of employers who
|
||
in many cases have no sense of human responsibilities and are utterly
|
||
callous to human wants, then the worker must necessarily take matters
|
||
into his own hands, seeing that the organized social community--that is
|
||
to say, the State--pays no attention to his needs.
|
||
|
||
The so-called national-minded bourgeoisie, blinded by its own material
|
||
interests, opposes this life-or-death struggle of the workers and places
|
||
the most difficult obstacles in their way. Not only does this
|
||
bourgeoisie hinder all efforts to enact legislation which would shorten
|
||
the inhumanly long hours of work, prohibit child-labour, grant security
|
||
and protection to women and improve the hygienic conditions of the
|
||
workshops and the dwellings of the working-class, but while the
|
||
bourgeoisie hinders all this the shrewd Jew takes the cause of the
|
||
oppressed into his own hands. He gradually becomes the leader of the
|
||
trades union movements, which is an easy task for him, because he does
|
||
not genuinely intend to find remedies for the social wrong: he pursues
|
||
only one objective, namely, to gather and consolidate a body of
|
||
followers who will act under his commands as an armed weapon in the
|
||
economic war for the destruction of national economic independence. For,
|
||
while a sound social policy has to move between the two poles of
|
||
securing a decent level of public health and welfare on the one hand
|
||
and, on the other, that of safeguarding the independence of the economic
|
||
life of the nation, the Jew does not take these poles into account at
|
||
all. The destruction of both is one of his main objects. He would ruin,
|
||
rather than safeguard, the independence of the national economic system.
|
||
Therefore, as the leader of the trades union movement, he has no
|
||
scruples about putting forward demands which not only go beyond the
|
||
declared purpose of the movement but could not be carried into effect
|
||
without ruining the national economic structure. On the other hand, he
|
||
has no interest in seeing a healthy and sturdy population develop; he
|
||
would be more content to see the people degenerate into an unthinking
|
||
herd which could be reduced to total subjection. Because these are his
|
||
final objectives, he can afford to put forward the most absurd claims.
|
||
He knows very well that these claims can never be realized and that
|
||
therefore nothing in the actual state of affairs could be altered by
|
||
them, but that the most they can do is to arouse the spirit of unrest
|
||
among the masses. That is exactly the purpose which he wishes such
|
||
propaganda to serve and not a real and honest improvement of the social
|
||
conditions.
|
||
|
||
The Jews will therefore remain the unquestioned leaders of the trades
|
||
union movement so long as a campaign is not undertaken, which must be
|
||
carried out on gigantic lines, for the enlightenment of the masses; so
|
||
that they will be enabled better to understand the causes of their
|
||
misery. Or the same end might be achieved if the government authorities
|
||
would get rid of the Jew and his work. For as long as the masses remain
|
||
so ill-informed as they actually are to-day, and as long as the State
|
||
remains as indifferent to their lot as it now is, the masses will follow
|
||
whatever leader makes them the most extravagant promises in regard to
|
||
economic matters. The Jew is a past master at this art and his
|
||
activities are not hampered by moral considerations of any kind.
|
||
|
||
Naturally it takes him only a short time to defeat all his competitors
|
||
in this field and drive them from the scene of action. In accordance
|
||
with the general brutality and rapacity of his nature, he turns the
|
||
trades union movement into an organization for the exercise of physical
|
||
violence. The resistance of those whose common sense has hitherto saved
|
||
them from surrendering to the Jewish dictatorship is now broken down by
|
||
terrorization. The success of that kind of activity is enormous.
|
||
|
||
Parallel with this, the political organization advances. It operates
|
||
hand-in-hand with the trades union movement, inasmuch as the latter
|
||
prepares the masses for the political organization and even forces them
|
||
into it. This is also the source that provides the money which the
|
||
political organization needs to keep its enormous apparatus in action.
|
||
The trades union organization is the organ of control for the political
|
||
activity of its members and whips in the masses for all great political
|
||
demonstrations. In the end it ceases to struggle for economic interests
|
||
but places its chief weapon, the refusal to continue work--which takes
|
||
the form of a general strike--at the disposal of the political movement.
|
||
|
||
By means of a Press whose contents are adapted to the level of the most
|
||
ignorant readers, the political and trades union organizations are
|
||
provided with an instrument which prepares the lowest stratum of the
|
||
nation for a campaign of ruthless destruction. It is not considered part
|
||
of the purpose of this Press to inspire its readers with ideals which
|
||
might help them to lift their minds above the sordid conditions of their
|
||
daily lives; but, on the contrary, it panders to their lowest instincts.
|
||
Among the lazy-minded and self-seeking sections of the masses this kind
|
||
of speculation turns out lucrative.
|
||
|
||
It is this Press above all which carries on a fanatical campaign of
|
||
calumny, strives to tear down everything that might be considered as a
|
||
mainstay of national independence and to sabotage all cultural values as
|
||
well as to destroy the autonomy of the national economic system.
|
||
|
||
It aims its attack especially against all men of character who refuse to
|
||
fall into line with the Jewish efforts to obtain control over the State
|
||
or who appear dangerous to the Jews merely because of their superior
|
||
intelligence. For in order to incur the enmity of the Jew it is not
|
||
necessary to show any open hostility towards him. It is quite sufficient
|
||
if one be considered capable of opposing the Jew some time in the future
|
||
or using his abilities and character to enhance the power and position
|
||
of a nation which the Jew finds hostile to himself.
|
||
|
||
The Jewish instinct, which never fails where these problems have to be
|
||
dealt with, readily discerns the true mentality of those whom the Jew
|
||
meets in everyday life; and those who are not of a kindred spirit with
|
||
him may be sure of being listed among his enemies. Since the Jew is not
|
||
the object of aggression but the aggressor himself, he considers as his
|
||
enemies not only those who attack him but also those who may be capable
|
||
of resisting him. The means which he employs to break people of this
|
||
kind, who may show themselves decent and upright, are not the open means
|
||
generally used in honourable conflict, but falsehood and calumny.
|
||
|
||
He will stop at nothing. His utterly low-down conduct is so appalling
|
||
that one really cannot be surprised if in the imagination of our people
|
||
the Jew is pictured as the incarnation of Satan and the symbol of evil.
|
||
|
||
The ignorance of the broad masses as regards the inner character of the
|
||
Jew, and the lack of instinct and insight that our upper classes
|
||
display, are some of the reasons which explain how it is that so many
|
||
people fall an easy prey to the systematic campaign of falsehood which
|
||
the Jew carries on.
|
||
|
||
While the upper classes, with their innate cowardliness, turn away from
|
||
anyone whom the Jew thus attacks with lies and calumny, the common
|
||
people are credulous of everything, whether because of their ignorance
|
||
or their simple-mindedness. Government authorities wrap themselves up in
|
||
a robe of silence, but more frequently they persecute the victims of
|
||
Jewish attacks in order to stop the campaign in the Jewish Press. To the
|
||
fatuous mind of the government official such a line of conduct appears
|
||
to belong to the policy of upholding the authority of the State and
|
||
preserving public order. Gradually the Marxist weapon in the hands of
|
||
the Jew becomes a constant bogy to decent people. Sometimes the fear of
|
||
it sticks in the brain or weighs upon them as a kind of nightmare.
|
||
People begin to quail before this fearful foe and therewith become his
|
||
victims.
|
||
|
||
(k) The Jewish domination in the State seems now so fully assured that
|
||
not only can he now afford to call himself a Jew once again, but he even
|
||
acknowledges freely and openly what his ideas are on racial and
|
||
political questions. A section of the Jews avows itself quite openly as
|
||
an alien people, but even here there is another falsehood. When the
|
||
Zionists try to make the rest of the world believe that the new national
|
||
consciousness of the Jews will be satisfied by the establishment of a
|
||
Jewish State in Palestine, the Jews thereby adopt another means to dupe
|
||
the simple-minded Gentile. They have not the slightest intention of
|
||
building up a Jewish State in Palestine so as to live in it. What they
|
||
really are aiming at is to establish a central organization for their
|
||
international swindling and cheating. As a sovereign State, this cannot
|
||
be controlled by any of the other States. Therefore it can serve as a
|
||
refuge for swindlers who have been found out and at the same time a
|
||
high-school for the training of other swindlers.
|
||
|
||
As a sign of their growing presumption and sense of security, a certain
|
||
section of them openly and impudently proclaim their Jewish nationality
|
||
while another section hypocritically pretend that they are German,
|
||
French or English as the case may be. Their blatant behaviour in their
|
||
relations with other people shows how clearly they envisage their day of
|
||
triumph in the near future.
|
||
|
||
The black-haired Jewish youth lies in wait for hours on end, satanically
|
||
glaring at and spying on the unsuspicious girl whom he plans to seduce,
|
||
adulterating her blood and removing her from the bosom of her own
|
||
people. The Jew uses every possible means to undermine the racial
|
||
foundations of a subjugated people. In his systematic efforts to ruin
|
||
girls and women he strives to break down the last barriers of
|
||
discrimination between him and other peoples. The Jews were responsible
|
||
for bringing negroes into the Rhineland, with the ultimate idea of
|
||
bastardizing the white race which they hate and thus lowering its
|
||
cultural and political level so that the Jew might dominate. For as long
|
||
as a people remain racially pure and are conscious of the treasure of
|
||
their blood, they can never be overcome by the Jew. Never in this world
|
||
can the Jew become master of any people except a bastardized people.
|
||
|
||
That is why the Jew systematically endeavours to lower the racial
|
||
quality of a people by permanently adulterating the blood of the
|
||
individuals who make up that people.
|
||
|
||
In the field of politics he now begins to replace the idea of democracy
|
||
by introducing the dictatorship of the proletariat. In the masses
|
||
organized under the Marxist banners he has found a weapon which makes it
|
||
possible for him to discard democracy, so as to subjugate and rule in a
|
||
dictatorial fashion by the aid of brute force. He is systematically
|
||
working in two ways to bring about this revolution. These ways are the
|
||
economic and the political respectively.
|
||
|
||
Aided by international influences, he forms a ring of enemies around
|
||
those nations which have proved themselves too sturdy for him in
|
||
withstanding attacks from within. He would like to force them into war
|
||
and then, if it should be necessary to his plans, he will unfurl the
|
||
banners of revolt even while the troops are actually fighting at the
|
||
front.
|
||
|
||
Economically he brings about the destruction of the State by a
|
||
systematic method of sabotaging social enterprises until these become so
|
||
costly that they are taken out of the hands of the State and then
|
||
submitted to the control of Jewish finance. Politically he works to
|
||
withdraw from the State its means of susbsistence, inasmuch as he
|
||
undermines the foundations of national resistance and defence, destroys
|
||
the confidence which the people have in their Government, reviles the
|
||
past and its history and drags everything national down into the gutter.
|
||
|
||
Culturally his activity consists in bowdlerizing art, literature and the
|
||
theatre, holding the expressions of national sentiment up to scorn,
|
||
overturning all concepts of the sublime and beautiful, the worthy and
|
||
the good, finally dragging the people to the level of his own low
|
||
mentality.
|
||
|
||
Of religion he makes a mockery. Morality and decency are described as
|
||
antiquated prejudices and thus a systematic attack is made to undermine
|
||
those last foundations on which the national being must rest if the
|
||
nation is to struggle for its existence in this world.
|
||
|
||
(l) Now begins the great and final revolution. As soon as the Jew is in
|
||
possession of political power he drops the last few veils which have
|
||
hitherto helped to conceal his features. Out of the democratic Jew, the
|
||
Jew of the People, arises the 'Jew of the Blood', the tyrant of the
|
||
peoples. In the course of a few years he endeavours to exterminate all
|
||
those who represent the national intelligence. And by thus depriving the
|
||
peoples of their natural intellectual leaders he fits them for their
|
||
fate as slaves under a lasting despotism.
|
||
|
||
Russia furnishes the most terrible example of such a slavery. In that
|
||
country the Jew killed or starved thirty millions of the people, in a
|
||
bout of savage fanaticism and partly by the employment of inhuman
|
||
torture. And he did this so that a gang of Jewish literati and financial
|
||
bandits should dominate over a great people.
|
||
|
||
But the final consequence is not merely that the people lose all their
|
||
freedom under the domination of the Jews, but that in the end these
|
||
parasites themselves disappear. The death of the victim is followed
|
||
sooner or later by that of the vampire.
|
||
|
||
If we review all the causes which contributed to bring about the
|
||
downfall of the German people we shall find that the most profound and
|
||
decisive cause must be attributed to the lack of insight into the racial
|
||
problem and especially in the failure to recognize the Jewish danger.
|
||
|
||
It would have been easy enough to endure the defeats suffered on the
|
||
battlefields in August 1918. They were nothing when compared with the
|
||
military victories which our nation had achieved. Our downfall was not
|
||
the result of those defeats; but we were overthrown by that force which
|
||
had prepared those defeats by systematically operating for several
|
||
decades to destroy those political instincts and that moral stamina
|
||
which alone enable a people to struggle for its existence and therewith
|
||
secure the right to exist.
|
||
|
||
By neglecting the problem of preserving the racial foundations of our
|
||
national life, the old Empire abrogated the sole right which entitles a
|
||
people to live on this planet. Nations that make mongrels of their
|
||
people, or allow their people to be turned into mongrels, sin against
|
||
the Will of Eternal Providence. And thus their overthrow at the hands of
|
||
a stronger opponent cannot be looked upon as a wrong but, on the
|
||
contrary, as a restoration of justice. If a people refuses to guard and
|
||
uphold the qualities with which it has been endowed by Nature and which
|
||
have their roots in the racial blood, then such a people has no right to
|
||
complain over the loss of its earthly existence.
|
||
|
||
Everything on this earth can be made into something better. Every defeat
|
||
may be made the foundation of a future victory. Every lost war may be
|
||
the cause of a later resurgence. Every visitation of distress can give a
|
||
new impetus to human energy. And out of every oppression those forces
|
||
can develop which bring about a new re-birth of the national
|
||
soul--provided always that the racial blood is kept pure.
|
||
|
||
But the loss of racial purity will wreck inner happiness for ever. It
|
||
degrades men for all time to come. And the physical and moral
|
||
consequences can never be wiped out.
|
||
|
||
If this unique problem be studied and compared with the other problems
|
||
of life we shall easily recognize how small is their importance in
|
||
comparison with this. They are all limited to time; but the problem of
|
||
the maintenance or loss of the purity of the racial blood will last as
|
||
long as man himself lasts.
|
||
|
||
All the symptoms of decline which manifested themselves already in
|
||
pre-war times can be traced back to the racial problem.
|
||
|
||
Whether one is dealing with questions of general law, or monstrous
|
||
excrescences in economic life, of phenomena which point to a cultural
|
||
decline or political degeneration, whether it be a question of defects
|
||
in the school-system or of the evil influence which the Press exerts
|
||
over the adult population--always and everywhere these phenomena are at
|
||
bottom caused by a lack of consideration for the interests of the race
|
||
to which one's own nation belongs, or by the failure to recognize the
|
||
danger that comes from allowing a foreign race to exist within the
|
||
national body.
|
||
|
||
That is why all attempts at reform, all institutions for social relief,
|
||
all political striving, all economic progress and all apparent increase
|
||
in the general stock of knowledge, were doomed to be unproductive of any
|
||
significant results. The nation, as well as the organization which
|
||
enables it to exist--namely, the State--were not developing in inner
|
||
strength and stability, but, on the contrary, were visibly losing their
|
||
vitality. The false brilliance of the Second Empire could not disguise
|
||
the inner weakness. And every attempt to invigorate it anew failed
|
||
because the main and most important problem was left out of
|
||
consideration.
|
||
|
||
It would be a mistake to think that the followers of the various
|
||
political parties which tried to doctor the condition of the German
|
||
people, or even all their leaders, were bad in themselves or meant
|
||
wrong. Their activity even at best was doomed to fail, merely because of
|
||
the fact that they saw nothing but the symptoms of our general malady
|
||
and they tried to doctor the symptoms while they overlooked the real
|
||
cause of the disease. If one makes a methodical study of the lines along
|
||
which the old Empire developed one cannot help seeing, after a careful
|
||
political analysis, that a process of inner degeneration had already set
|
||
in even at the time when the united Empire was formed and the German
|
||
nation began to make rapid external progress. The general situation was
|
||
declining, in spite of the apparent political success and in spite of
|
||
the increasing economic wealth. At the elections to the Reichstag the
|
||
growing number of Marxist votes indicated that the internal breakdown
|
||
and the political collapse were then rapidly approaching. All the
|
||
victories of the so-called bourgeois parties were fruitless, not only
|
||
because they could not prevent the numerical increase in the growing
|
||
mass of Marxist votes, even when the bourgeois parties triumphed at the
|
||
polls, but mainly because they themselves were already infected with the
|
||
germs of decay. Though quite unaware of it, the bourgeois world was
|
||
infected from within with the deadly virus of Marxist ideas. The fact
|
||
that they sometimes openly resisted was to be explained by the
|
||
competitive strife among ambitious political leaders, rather than by
|
||
attributing it to any opposition in principle between adversaries who
|
||
were determined to fight one another to the bitter end. During all those
|
||
years only one protagonist was fighting with steadfast perseverance.
|
||
This was the Jew. The Star of David steadily ascended as the will to
|
||
national self-preservation declined.
|
||
|
||
Therefore it was not a solid national phalanx that, of itself and out of
|
||
its own feeling of solidarity, rushed to the battlefields in August
|
||
1914. But it was rather the manifestation of the last flicker from the
|
||
instinct of national self-preservation against the progress of the
|
||
paralysis with which the pacifist and Marxist doctrine threatened our
|
||
people. Even in those days when the destinies of the nation were in the
|
||
balance the internal enemy was not recognized; therefore all efforts to
|
||
resist the external enemy were bound to be in vain. Providence did not
|
||
grant the reward to the victorious sword, but followed the eternal law
|
||
of retributive justice. A profound recognition of all this was the
|
||
source of those principles and tendencies which inspire our new
|
||
movement. We were convinced that only by recognizing such truths could
|
||
we stop the national decline in Germany and lay a granite foundation on
|
||
which the State could again be built up, a State which would not be a
|
||
piece of mechanism alien to our people, constituted for economic
|
||
purposes and interests, but an organism created from the soul of the
|
||
people themselves.
|
||
|
||
A GERMAN STATE IN A GERMAN NATION
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
CHAPTER XII
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
THE FIRST STAGE IN THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE GERMAN
|
||
NATIONAL SOCIALIST LABOUR PARTY
|
||
|
||
|
||
Here at the close of the volume I shall describe the first stage in the
|
||
progress of our movement and shall give a brief account of the problems
|
||
we had to deal with during that period. In doing this I have no
|
||
intention of expounding the ideals which we have set up as the goal of
|
||
our movement; for these ideals are so momentous in their significance
|
||
that an exposition of them will need a whole volume. Therefore I shall
|
||
devote the second volume of this book to a detailed survey of the
|
||
principles which form the programme of our movement and I shall attempt
|
||
to draw a picture of what we mean by the word 'State'. When I say 'we'
|
||
in this connection I mean to include all those hundreds of thousands who
|
||
have fundamentally the same longing, though in the individual cases they
|
||
cannot find adequate words to describe the vision that hovers before
|
||
their eyes. It is a characteristic feature of all great reforms that in
|
||
the beginning there is only one single protagonist to come forward on
|
||
behalf of several millions of people. The final goal of a great
|
||
reformation has often been the object of profound longing on the parts
|
||
of hundreds of thousands for many centuries before, until finally one
|
||
among them comes forward as a herald to announce the will of that
|
||
multitude and become the standard-bearer of the old yearning, which he
|
||
now leads to a realization in a new idea.
|
||
|
||
The fact that millions of our people yearn at heart for a radical change
|
||
in our present conditions is proved by the profound discontent which
|
||
exists among them. This feeling is manifested in a thousand ways. Some
|
||
express it in a form of discouragement and despair. Others show it in
|
||
resentment and anger and indignation. Among some the profound discontent
|
||
calls forth an attitude of indifference, while it urges others to
|
||
violent manifestations of wrath. Another indication of this feeling may
|
||
be seen on the one hand in the attitude of those who abstain from voting
|
||
at elections and, on the other, in the large numbers of those who side
|
||
with the fanatical extremists of the left wing.
|
||
|
||
To these latter people our young movement had to appeal first of all. It
|
||
was not meant to be an organization for contented and satisfied people,
|
||
but was meant to gather in all those who were suffering from profound
|
||
anxiety and could find no peace, those who were unhappy and
|
||
discontented. It was not meant to float on the surface of the nation but
|
||
rather to push its roots deep among the masses.
|
||
|
||
Looked at from the purely political point of view, the situation in 1918
|
||
was as follows: A nation had been torn into two parts. One part, which
|
||
was by far the smaller of the two, contained the intellectual classes of
|
||
the nation from which all those employed in physical labour were
|
||
excluded. On the surface these intellectual classes appeared to be
|
||
national-minded, but that word meant nothing else to them except a very
|
||
vague and feeble concept of the duty to defend what they called the
|
||
interests of the State, which in turn seemed identical with those of the
|
||
dynastic regime. This class tried to defend its ideas and reach its aims
|
||
by carrying on the fight with the aid of intellectual weapons, which
|
||
could be used only here and there and which had only a superficial
|
||
effect against the brutal measures employed by the adversaries, in the
|
||
face of which the intellectual weapons were of their very nature bound
|
||
to fail. With one violent blow the class which had hitherto governed was
|
||
now struck down. It trembled with fear and accepted every humiliation
|
||
imposed on it by the merciless victor.
|
||
|
||
Over against this class stood the broad masses of manual labourers who
|
||
were organized in movements with a more or less radically Marxist
|
||
tendency. These organized masses were firmly determined to break any
|
||
kind of intellectual resistance by the use of brute force. They had no
|
||
nationalist tendencies whatsoever and deliberately repudiated the idea
|
||
of advancing the interests of the nation as such. On the contrary, they
|
||
promoted the interests of the foreign oppressor. Numerically this class
|
||
embraced the majority of the population and, what is more important,
|
||
included all those elements of the nation without whose collaboration a
|
||
national resurgence was not only a practical impossibility but was even
|
||
inconceivable.
|
||
|
||
For already in 1918 one thing had to be clearly recognized; namely, that
|
||
no resurgence of the German nation could take place until we had first
|
||
restored our national strength to face the outside world. For this
|
||
purpose arms are not the preliminary necessity, though our bourgeois
|
||
'statesmen' always blathered about it being so; what was wanted was
|
||
will-power. At one time the German people had more than sufficient
|
||
military armament. And yet they were not able to defend their liberty
|
||
because they lacked those energies which spring from the instinct of
|
||
national self-preservation and the will to hold on to one's own. The
|
||
best armament is only dead and worthless material as long as the spirit
|
||
is wanting which makes men willing and determined to avail themselves of
|
||
such weapons. Germany was rendered defenceless not because she lacked
|
||
arms, but because she lacked the will to keep her arms for the
|
||
maintenance of her people.
|
||
|
||
To-day our Left-wing politicians in particular are constantly insisting
|
||
that their craven-hearted and obsequious foreign policy necessarily
|
||
results from the disarmament of Germany, whereas the truth is that this
|
||
is the policy of traitors. To all that kind of talk the answer ought to
|
||
be: No, the contrary is the truth. Your action in delivering up the arms
|
||
was dictated by your anti-national and criminal policy of abandoning the
|
||
interests of the nation. And now you try to make people believe that
|
||
your miserable whining is fundamentally due to the fact that you have no
|
||
arms. Just like everything else in your conduct, this is a lie and a
|
||
falsification of the true reason.
|
||
|
||
But the politicians of the Right deserve exactly the same reproach. It
|
||
was through their miserable cowardice that those ruffians of Jews who
|
||
came into power in 1918 were able to rob the nation of its arms. The
|
||
conservative politicians have neither right nor reason on their side
|
||
when they appeal to disarmament as the cause which compelled them to
|
||
adopt a policy of prudence (that is to say, cowardice). Here, again, the
|
||
contrary is the truth. Disarmament is the result of their lack of
|
||
spirit.
|
||
|
||
Therefore the problem of restoring Germany's power is not a question of
|
||
how can we manufacture arms but rather a question of how we can produce
|
||
that spirit which enables a people to bear arms. Once this spirit
|
||
prevails among a people then it will find a thousand ways, each of which
|
||
leads to the necessary armament. But a coward will not fire even a
|
||
single shot when attacked though he may be armed with ten pistols. For
|
||
him they are of less value than a blackthorn in the hands of a man of
|
||
courage.
|
||
|
||
The problem of re-establishing the political power of our nation is
|
||
first of all a problem of restoring the instinct of national
|
||
self-preservation for if no other reason than that every preparatory
|
||
step in foreign policy and every foreign judgment on the worth of a
|
||
State has been proved by experience to be grounded not on the material
|
||
size of the armament such a State may possess but rather on the moral
|
||
capacity for resistance which such a State has or is believed to have.
|
||
The question whether or not a nation be desirable as an ally is not so
|
||
much determined by the inert mass of arms which it has at hand but by
|
||
the obvious presence of a sturdy will to national self-preservation and
|
||
a heroic courage which will fight through to the last breath. For an
|
||
alliance is not made between arms but between men.
|
||
|
||
The British nation will therefore be considered as the most valuable
|
||
ally in the world as long as it can be counted upon to show that
|
||
brutality and tenacity in its government, as well as in the spirit of
|
||
the broad masses, which enables it to carry through to victory any
|
||
struggle that it once enters upon, no matter how long such a struggle
|
||
may last, or however great the sacrifice that may be necessary or
|
||
whatever the means that have to be employed; and all this even though
|
||
the actual military equipment at hand may be utterly inadequate when
|
||
compared with that of other nations.
|
||
|
||
Once it is understood that the restoration of Germany is a question of
|
||
reawakening the will to political self-preservation we shall see quite
|
||
clearly that it will not be enough to win over those elements that are
|
||
already national-minded but that the deliberately anti-national masses
|
||
must be converted to believe in the national ideals.
|
||
|
||
A young movement that aims at re-establishing a German State with full
|
||
sovereign powers will therefore have to make the task of winning over
|
||
the broad masses a special objective of its plan of campaign. Our
|
||
so-called 'national bourgeoisie' are so lamentably supine, generally
|
||
speaking, and their national spirit appears so feckless, that we may
|
||
feel sure they will offer no serious resistance against a vigorous
|
||
national foreign--or domestic policy. Even though the narrow-minded
|
||
German bourgeoisie should keep up a passive resistance when the hour of
|
||
deliverance is at hand, as they did in Bismarck's time, we shall never
|
||
have to fear any active resistance on their part, because of their
|
||
recognized proverbial cowardice.
|
||
|
||
It is quite different with the masses of our population, who are imbued
|
||
with ideas of internationalism. Through the primitive roughness of their
|
||
natures they are disposed to accept the preaching of violence, while at
|
||
the same time their Jewish leaders are more brutal and ruthless. They
|
||
will crush any attempt at a German revival, just as they smashed the
|
||
German Army by striking at it from the rear. Above all, these organized
|
||
masses will use their numerical majority in this Parliamentarian State
|
||
not only to hinder any national foreign policy, but also to prevent
|
||
Germany from restoring her political power and therewith her prestige
|
||
abroad. Thus she becomes excluded from the ranks of desirable allies.
|
||
For it is not we ourselves alone who are aware of the handicap that
|
||
results from the existence of fifteen million Marxists, democrats,
|
||
pacifists and followers of the Centre, in our midst, but foreign nations
|
||
also recognize this internal burden which we have to bear and take it
|
||
into their calculations when estimating the value of a possible alliance
|
||
with us. Nobody would wish to form an alliance with a State where the
|
||
active portion of the population is at least passively opposed to any
|
||
resolute foreign policy.
|
||
|
||
The situation is made still worse by reason of the fact that the leaders
|
||
of those parties which were responsible for the national betrayal are
|
||
ready to oppose any and every attempt at a revival, simply because they
|
||
want to retain the positions they now hold. According to the laws that
|
||
govern human history it is inconceivable that the German people could
|
||
resume the place they formerly held without retaliating on those who
|
||
were both cause and occasion of the collapse that involved the ruin of
|
||
our State. Before the judgment seat of posterity November 1918 will not
|
||
be regarded as a simple rebellion but as high treason against the
|
||
country.
|
||
|
||
Therefore it is not possible to think of re-establishing German
|
||
sovereignty and political independence without at the same time
|
||
reconstructing a united front within the nation, by a peaceful
|
||
conversion of the popular will.
|
||
|
||
Looked at from the standpoint of practical ways and means, it seems
|
||
absurd to think of liberating Germany from foreign bondage as long as
|
||
the masses of the people are not willing to support such an ideal of
|
||
freedom. After carefully considering this problem from the purely
|
||
military point of view, everybody, and in particular every officer, will
|
||
agree that a war cannot be waged against an outside enemy by battalions
|
||
of students; but that, together with the brains of the nation, the
|
||
physical strength of the nation is also necessary. Furthermore it must
|
||
be remembered that the nation would be robbed of its irreplaceable
|
||
assets by a national defence in which only the intellectual circles, as
|
||
they are called, were engaged. The young German intellectuals who joined
|
||
the volunteer regiments and fell on the battlefields of Flanders in the
|
||
autumn of 1914 were bitterly missed later on. They were the dearest
|
||
treasure which the nation possessed and their loss could not be made
|
||
good in the course of the war. And it is not only the struggle itself
|
||
which could not be waged if the working masses of the nation did not
|
||
join the storm battalions, but the necessary technical preparations
|
||
could not be made without a unified will and a common front within the
|
||
nation itself. Our nation which has to exist disarmed, under the
|
||
thousand eyes appointed by the Versailles Peace Treaty, cannot make any
|
||
technical preparations for the recovery of its freedom and human
|
||
independence until the whole army of spies employed within the country
|
||
is cut down to those few whose inborn baseness would lead them to betray
|
||
anything and everything for the proverbial thirty pieces of silver. But
|
||
we can deal with such people. The millions, however, who are opposed to
|
||
every kind of national revival simply because of their political
|
||
opinions, constitute an insurmountable obstacle. At least the obstacle
|
||
will remain insurmountable as long as the cause of their opposition,
|
||
which is international Marxism, is not overcome and its teachings
|
||
banished from both their hearts and heads.
|
||
|
||
From whatever point of view we may examine the possibility of recovering
|
||
our independence as a State and a people, whether we consider the
|
||
problem from the standpoint of technical rearmament or from that of the
|
||
actual struggle itself, the necessary pre-requisite always remains the
|
||
same. This pre-requisite is that the broad masses of the people must
|
||
first be won over to accept the principle of our national independence.
|
||
|
||
If we do not regain our external freedom every step forward in domestic
|
||
reform will at best be an augmentation of our productive powers for the
|
||
benefit of those nations that look upon us as a colony to be exploited.
|
||
The surplus produced by any so-called improvement would only go into the
|
||
hands of our international controllers and any social betterment would
|
||
at best increase the product of our labour in favour of those people. No
|
||
cultural progress can be made by the German nation, because such
|
||
progress is too much bound up with the political independence and
|
||
dignity of a people.
|
||
|
||
Therefore, as we can find a satisfactory solution for the problem of
|
||
Germany's future only by winning over the broad masses of our people for
|
||
the support of the national idea, this work of education must be
|
||
considered the highest and most important task to be accomplished by a
|
||
movement which does not strive merely to satisfy the needs of the moment
|
||
but considers itself bound to examine in the light of future results
|
||
everything it decides to do or refrain from doing.
|
||
|
||
As early as 1919 we were convinced that the nationalization of the
|
||
masses would have to constitute the first and paramount aim of the new
|
||
movement. From the tactical standpoint, this decision laid a certain
|
||
number of obligations on our shoulders.
|
||
|
||
(1) No social sacrifice could be considered too great in this effort to
|
||
win over the masses for the national revival.
|
||
|
||
In the field of national economics, whatever concessions are granted
|
||
to-day to the employees are negligible when compared with the benefit to
|
||
be reaped by the whole nation if such concessions contribute to bring
|
||
back the masses of the people once more to the bosom of their own
|
||
nation. Nothing but meanness and shortsightedness, which are
|
||
characteristics that unfortunately are only too prevalent among our
|
||
employers, could prevent people from recognizing that in the long run no
|
||
economic improvement and therefore no rise in profits are possible
|
||
unless internal solidarity be restored among the bulk of the people who
|
||
make up our nation.
|
||
|
||
If the German trades unions had defended the interests of the
|
||
working-classes uncompromisingly during the War; if even during the War
|
||
they had used the weapon of the strike to force the industrialists--who
|
||
were greedy for higher dividends--to grant the demands of the workers
|
||
for whom the unions acted; if at the same time they had stood up as good
|
||
Germans for the defence of the nation as stoutly as for their own
|
||
claims, and if they had given to their country what was their country's
|
||
due--then the War would never have been lost. How ludicrously
|
||
insignificant would all, and even the greatest, economic concession have
|
||
been in face of the tremendous importance of such a victory.
|
||
|
||
For a movement which would restore the German worker to the German
|
||
people it is therefore absolutely necessary to understand clearly that
|
||
economic sacrifices must be considered light in such cases, provided of
|
||
course that they do not go the length of endangering the independence
|
||
and stability of the national economic system.
|
||
|
||
(2) The education of the masses along national lines can be carried out
|
||
only indirectly, by improving their social conditions; for only by such
|
||
a process can the economic conditions be created which enable everybody
|
||
to share in the cultural life of the nation.
|
||
|
||
(3) The nationalization of the broad masses can never be achieved by
|
||
half-measures--that is to say, by feebly insisting on what is called the
|
||
objective side of the question--but only by a ruthless and devoted
|
||
insistence on the one aim which must be achieved. This means that a
|
||
people cannot be made 'national' according to the signification attached
|
||
to that word by our bourgeois class to-day--that is to say, nationalism
|
||
with many reservations--but national in the vehement and extreme sense.
|
||
Poison can be overcome only by a counter-poison, and only the supine
|
||
bourgeois mind could think that the Kingdom of Heaven can be attained by
|
||
a compromise.
|
||
|
||
The broad masses of a nation are not made up of professors and
|
||
diplomats. Since these masses have only a poor acquaintance with
|
||
abstract ideas, their reactions lie more in the domain of the feelings,
|
||
where the roots of their positive as well as their negative attitudes
|
||
are implanted. They are susceptible only to a manifestation of strength
|
||
which comes definitely either from the positive or negative side, but
|
||
they are never susceptible to any half-hearted attitude that wavers
|
||
between one pole and the other. The emotional grounds of their attitude
|
||
furnish the reason for their extraordinary stability. It is always more
|
||
difficult to fight successfully against Faith than against knowledge.
|
||
Love is less subject to change than respect. Hatred is more lasting than
|
||
mere aversion. And the driving force which has brought about the most
|
||
tremendous revolutions on this earth has never been a body of scientific
|
||
teaching which has gained power over the masses, but always a devotion
|
||
which has inspired them, and often a kind of hysteria which has urged
|
||
them to action.
|
||
|
||
Whoever wishes to win over the masses must know the key that will open
|
||
the door to their hearts. It is not objectivity, which is a feckless
|
||
attitude, but a determined will, backed up by force, when necessary.
|
||
|
||
(4) The soul of the masses can be won only if those who lead the
|
||
movement for that purpose are determined not merely to carry through the
|
||
positive struggle for their own aims but are also determined to destroy
|
||
the enemy that opposes them.
|
||
|
||
When they see an uncompromising onslaught against an adversary the
|
||
people have at all times taken this as a proof that right is on the side
|
||
of the active aggressor; but if the aggressor should go only half-way
|
||
and fail to push home his success by driving his opponent entirely from
|
||
the scene of action, the people will look upon this as a sign that the
|
||
aggressor is uncertain of the justice of his own cause and his half-way
|
||
policy may even be an acknowledgment that his cause is unjust.
|
||
|
||
The masses are but a part of Nature herself. Their feeling is such that
|
||
they cannot understand mutual hand-shakings between men who are declared
|
||
enemies. Their wish is to see the stronger side win and the weaker wiped
|
||
out or subjected unconditionally to the will of the stronger.
|
||
|
||
The nationalization of the masses can be successfully achieved only if,
|
||
in the positive struggle to win the soul of the people, those who spread
|
||
the international poison among them are exterminated.
|
||
|
||
(5) All the great problems of our time are problems of the moment and
|
||
are only the results of certain definite causes. And among all those
|
||
there is only one that has a profoundly causal significance. This is the
|
||
problem of preserving the pure racial stock among the people. Human
|
||
vigour or decline depends on the blood. Nations that are not aware of
|
||
the importance of their racial stock, or which neglect to preserve it,
|
||
are like men who would try to educate the pug-dog to do the work of the
|
||
greyhound, not understanding that neither the speed of the greyhound nor
|
||
the imitative faculties of the poodle are inborn qualities which cannot
|
||
be drilled into the one or the other by any form of training. A people
|
||
that fails to preserve the purity of its racial blood thereby destroys
|
||
the unity of the soul of the nation in all its manifestations. A
|
||
disintegrated national character is the inevitable consequence of a
|
||
process of disintegration in the blood. And the change which takes place
|
||
in the spiritual and creative faculties of a people is only an effect of
|
||
the change that has modified its racial substance.
|
||
|
||
If we are to free the German people from all those failings and ways of
|
||
acting which do not spring from their original character, we must first
|
||
get rid of those foreign germs in the national body which are the cause
|
||
of its failings and false ways.
|
||
|
||
The German nation will never revive unless the racial problem is taken
|
||
into account and dealt with. The racial problem furnishes the key not
|
||
only to the understanding of human history but also to the understanding
|
||
of every kind of human culture.
|
||
|
||
(6) By incorporating in the national community the masses of our people
|
||
who are now in the international camp we do not thereby mean to renounce
|
||
the principle that the interests of the various trades and professions
|
||
must be safeguarded. Divergent interests in the various branches of
|
||
labour and in the trades and professions are not the same as a division
|
||
between the various classes, but rather a feature inherent in the
|
||
economic situation. Vocational grouping does not clash in the least with
|
||
the idea of a national community, for this means national unity in
|
||
regard to all those problems that affect the life of the nation as such.
|
||
|
||
To incorporate in the national community, or simply the State, a stratum
|
||
of the people which has now formed a social class the standing of the
|
||
higher classes must not be lowered but that of the lower classes must be
|
||
raised. The class which carries through this process is never the higher
|
||
class but rather the lower one which is fighting for equality of rights.
|
||
The bourgeoisie of to-day was not incorporated in the State through
|
||
measures enacted by the feudal nobility but only through its own energy
|
||
and a leadership that had sprung from its own ranks.
|
||
|
||
The German worker cannot be raised from his present standing and
|
||
incorporated in the German folk-community by means of goody-goody
|
||
meetings where people talk about the brotherhood of the people, but
|
||
rather by a systematic improvement in the social and cultural life of
|
||
the worker until the yawning abyss between him and the other classes can
|
||
be filled in. A movement which has this for its aim must try to recruit
|
||
its followers mainly from the ranks of the working class. It must
|
||
include members of the intellectual classes only in so far as such
|
||
members have rightly understood and accepted without reserve the ideal
|
||
towards which the movement is striving. This process of transformation
|
||
and reunion cannot be completed within ten or twenty years. It will take
|
||
several generations, as the history of such movements has shown.
|
||
|
||
The most difficult obstacle to the reunion of our contemporary worker in
|
||
the national folk-community does not consist so much in the fact that he
|
||
fights for the interests of his fellow-workers, but rather in the
|
||
international ideas with which he is imbued and which are of their
|
||
nature at variance with the ideas of nationhood and fatherland. This
|
||
hostile attitude to nation and fatherland has been inculcated by the
|
||
leaders of the working class. If they were inspired by the principle of
|
||
devotion to the nation in all that concerns its political and social
|
||
welfare, the trades unions would make those millions of workers most
|
||
valuable members of the national community, without thereby affecting
|
||
their own constant struggle for their economic demands.
|
||
|
||
A movement which sincerely endeavours to bring the German worker back
|
||
into his folk-community, and rescue him from the folly of
|
||
internationalism, must wage a vigorous campaign against certain notions
|
||
that are prevalent among the industrialists. One of these notions is
|
||
that according to the concept of the folk-community, the employee is
|
||
obliged to surrender all his economic rights to the employer and,
|
||
further, that the workers would come into conflict with the
|
||
folk-community if they should attempt to defend their own just and vital
|
||
interests. Those who try to propagate such a notion are deliberate
|
||
liars. The idea of a folk-community does not impose any obligations on
|
||
the one side that are not imposed on the other.
|
||
|
||
A worker certainly does something which is contrary to the spirit of
|
||
folk-community if he acts entirely on his own initiative and puts
|
||
forward exaggerated demands without taking the common good into
|
||
consideration or the maintenance of the national economic structure. But
|
||
an industrialist also acts against the spirit of the folk-community if
|
||
he adopts inhuman methods of exploitation and misuses the working forces
|
||
of the nation to make millions unjustly for himself from the sweat of
|
||
the workers. He has no right to call himself 'national' and no right to
|
||
talk of a folk-community, for he is only an unscrupulous egoist who sows
|
||
the seeds of social discontent and provokes a spirit of conflict which
|
||
sooner or later must be injurious to the interests of the country.
|
||
|
||
The reservoir from which the young movement has to draw its members will
|
||
first of all be the working masses. Those masses must be delivered from
|
||
the clutches of the international mania. Their social distress must be
|
||
eliminated. They must be raised above their present cultural level,
|
||
which is deplorable, and transformed into a resolute and valuable factor
|
||
in the folk-community, inspired by national ideas and national
|
||
sentiment.
|
||
|
||
If among those intellectual circles that are nationalist in their
|
||
outlook men can be found who genuinely love the people and look forward
|
||
eagerly to the future of Germany, and at the same time have a sound
|
||
grasp of the importance of a struggle whose aim is to win over the soul
|
||
of the masses, such men are cordially welcomed in the ranks of our
|
||
movement, because they can serve as a valuable intellectual force in the
|
||
work that has to be done. But this movement can never aim at recruiting
|
||
its membership from the unthinking herd of bourgeois voters. If it did
|
||
so the movement would be burdened with a mass of people whose whole
|
||
mentality would only help to paralyse the effort of our campaign to win
|
||
the mass of the people. In theory it may be very fine to say that the
|
||
broad masses ought to be influenced by a combined leadership of the
|
||
upper and lower social strata within the framework of the one movement;
|
||
but, notwithstanding all this, the fact remains that though it may be
|
||
possible to exercise a psychological influence on the bourgeois classes
|
||
and to arouse some enthusiasm or even awaken some understanding among
|
||
them by our public demonstrations, their traditional characteristics
|
||
cannot be changed. In other words, we could not eliminate from the
|
||
bourgeois classes the inefficiency and supineness which are part of a
|
||
tradition that has developed through centuries. The difference between
|
||
the cultural levels of the two groups and between their respective
|
||
attitudes towards social-economic questions is still so great that it
|
||
would turn out a hindrance to the movement the moment the first
|
||
enthusiasm aroused by our demonstrations calmed down.
|
||
|
||
Finally, it is not part of our programme to transform the nationalist
|
||
camp itself, but rather to win over those who are anti-national in their
|
||
outlook. It is from this viewpoint that the strategy of the whole
|
||
movement must finally be decided.
|
||
|
||
(7) This one-sided but accordingly clear and definite attitude must be
|
||
manifested in the propaganda of the movement; and, on the other hand,
|
||
this is absolutely necessary to make the propaganda itself effective.
|
||
|
||
If propaganda is to be of service to the movement it must be addressed
|
||
to one side alone; for if it should vary the direction of its appeal it
|
||
will not be understood in the one camp or may be rejected by the other,
|
||
as merely insisting on obvious and uninteresting truisms; for the
|
||
intellectual training of the two camps that come into question here has
|
||
been very different.
|
||
|
||
Even the manner in which something is presented and the tone in which
|
||
particular details are emphasized cannot have the same effect in those
|
||
two strata that belong respectively to the opposite extremes of the
|
||
social structure. If the propaganda should refrain from using primitive
|
||
forms of expression it will not appeal to the sentiments of the masses.
|
||
If, on the other hand, it conforms to the crude sentiments of the masses
|
||
in its words and gestures the intellectual circles will be averse to it
|
||
because of its roughness and vulgarity. Among a hundred men who call
|
||
themselves orators there are scarcely ten who are capable of speaking
|
||
with effect before an audience of street-sweepers, locksmiths and
|
||
navvies, etc., to-day and expound the same subject with equal effect
|
||
to-morrow before an audience of university professors and students.
|
||
Among a thousand public speakers there may be only one who can speak
|
||
before a composite audience of locksmiths and professors in the same
|
||
hall in such a way that his statements can be fully comprehended by each
|
||
group while at the same time he effectively influences both and awakens
|
||
enthusiasm, on the one side as well as on the other, to hearty applause.
|
||
But it must be remembered that in most cases even the most beautiful
|
||
idea embodied in a sublime theory can be brought home to the public only
|
||
through the medium of smaller minds. The thing that matters here is not
|
||
the vision of the man of genius who created the great idea but rather
|
||
the success which his apostles achieve in shaping the expression of this
|
||
idea so as to bring it home to the minds of the masses.
|
||
|
||
Social-Democracy and the whole Marxist movement were particularly
|
||
qualified to attract the great masses of the nation, because of the
|
||
uniformity of the public to which they addressed their appeal. The more
|
||
limited and narrow their ideas and arguments, the easier it was for the
|
||
masses to grasp and assimilate them; for those ideas and arguments were
|
||
well adapted to a low level of intelligence.
|
||
|
||
These considerations led the new movement to adopt a clear and simple
|
||
line of policy, which was as follows:
|
||
|
||
In its message as well as in its forms of expression the propaganda must
|
||
be kept on a level with the intelligence of the masses, and its value
|
||
must be measured only by the actual success it achieves.
|
||
|
||
At a public meeting where the great masses are gathered together the
|
||
best speaker is not he whose way of approaching a subject is most akin
|
||
to the spirit of those intellectuals who may happen to be present, but
|
||
the speaker who knows how to win the hearts of the masses.
|
||
|
||
An educated man who is present and who finds fault with an address
|
||
because he considers it to be on an intellectual plane that is too low,
|
||
though he himself has witnessed its effect on the lower intellectual
|
||
groups whose adherence has to be won, only shows himself completely
|
||
incapable of rightly judging the situation and therewith proves that he
|
||
can be of no use in the new movement. Only intellectuals can be of use
|
||
to a movement who understand its mission and its aims so well that they
|
||
have learned to judge our methods of propaganda exclusively by the
|
||
success obtained and never by the impression which those methods made on
|
||
the intellectuals themselves. For our propaganda is not meant to serve
|
||
as an entertainment for those people who already have a nationalist
|
||
outlook, but its purpose is to win the adhesion of those who have
|
||
hitherto been hostile to national ideas and who are nevertheless of our
|
||
own blood and race.
|
||
|
||
In general, those considerations of which I have given a brief summary
|
||
in the chapter on 'War Propaganda' became the guiding rules and
|
||
principles which determined the kind of propaganda we were to adopt in
|
||
our campaign and the manner in which we were to put it into practice.
|
||
The success that has been obtained proves that our decision was right.
|
||
|
||
(8) The ends which any political reform movement sets out to attain can
|
||
never be reached by trying to educate the public or influence those in
|
||
power but only by getting political power into its hands. Every idea
|
||
that is meant to move the world has not only the right but also the
|
||
obligation of securing control of those means which will enable the idea
|
||
to be carried into effect. In this world success is the only rule of
|
||
judgment whereby we can decide whether such an undertaking was right or
|
||
wrong. And by the word 'success' in this connection I do not mean such a
|
||
success as the mere conquest of power in 1918 but the successful issue
|
||
whereby the common interests of the nation have been served. A COUP
|
||
D'ETAT cannot be considered successful if, as many empty-headed
|
||
government lawyers in Germany now believe, the revolutionaries succeeded
|
||
in getting control of the State into their hands but only if, in
|
||
comparison with the state of affairs under the old regime, the lot of
|
||
the nation has been improved when the aims and intentions on which the
|
||
revolution was based have been put into practice. This certainly does
|
||
not apply to the German Revolution, as that movement was called, which
|
||
brought a gang of bandits into power in the autumn of 1918.
|
||
|
||
But if the conquest of political power be a requisite preliminary for
|
||
the practical realization of the ideals that inspire a reform movement,
|
||
then any movement which aims at reform must, from the very first day of
|
||
its activity, be considered by its leaders as a movement of the masses
|
||
and not as a literary tea club or an association of philistines who meet
|
||
to play ninepins.
|
||
|
||
(9) The nature and internal organization of the new movement make it
|
||
anti-parliamentarian. That is to say, it rejects in general and in its
|
||
own structure all those principles according to which decisions are to
|
||
be taken on the vote of the majority and according to which the leader
|
||
is only the executor of the will and opinion of others. The movement
|
||
lays down the principle that, in the smallest as well as in the greatest
|
||
problems, one person must have absolute authority and bear all
|
||
responsibility.
|
||
|
||
In our movement the practical consequences of this principle are the
|
||
following:
|
||
|
||
The president of a large group is appointed by the head of the group
|
||
immediately above his in authority. He is then the responsible leader of
|
||
his group. All the committees are subject to his authority and not he to
|
||
theirs. There is no such thing as committees that vote but only
|
||
committees that work. This work is allotted by the responsible leader,
|
||
who is the president of the group. The same principle applies to the
|
||
higher organizations--the Bezirk (district), the KREIS (urban circuit)
|
||
and the GAU (the region). In each case the president is appointed from
|
||
above and is invested with full authority and executive power. Only the
|
||
leader of the whole party is elected at the general meeting of the
|
||
members. But he is the sole leader of the movement. All the committees
|
||
are responsible to him, but he is not responsible to the committees. His
|
||
decision is final, but he bears the whole responsibility of it. The
|
||
members of the movement are entitled to call him to account by means of
|
||
a new election, or to remove him from office if he has violated the
|
||
principles of the movement or has not served its interests adequately.
|
||
He is then replaced by a more capable man. who is invested with the same
|
||
authority and obliged to bear the same responsibility.
|
||
|
||
One of the highest duties of the movement is to make this principle
|
||
imperative not only within its own ranks but also for the whole State.
|
||
|
||
The man who becomes leader is invested with the highest and unlimited
|
||
authority, but he also has to bear the last and gravest responsibility.
|
||
|
||
The man who has not the courage to shoulder responsibility for his
|
||
actions is not fitted to be a leader. Only a man of heroic mould can
|
||
have the vocation for such a task.
|
||
|
||
Human progress and human cultures are not founded by the multitude. They
|
||
are exclusively the work of personal genius and personal efficiency.
|
||
|
||
Because of this principle, our movement must necessarily be
|
||
anti-parliamentarian, and if it takes part in the parliamentary
|
||
institution it is only for the purpose of destroying this institution
|
||
from within; in other words, we wish to do away with an institution
|
||
which we must look upon as one of the gravest symptoms of human decline.
|
||
|
||
(10) The movement steadfastly refuses to take up any stand in regard to
|
||
those problems which are either outside of its sphere of political work
|
||
or seem to have no fundamental importance for us. It does not aim at
|
||
bringing about a religious reformation, but rather a political
|
||
reorganization of our people. It looks upon the two religious
|
||
denominations as equally valuable mainstays for the existence of our
|
||
people, and therefore it makes war on all those parties which would
|
||
degrade this foundation, on which the religious and moral stability of
|
||
our people is based, to an instrument in the service of party interests.
|
||
|
||
Finally, the movement does not aim at establishing any one form of State
|
||
or trying to destroy another, but rather to make those fundamental
|
||
principles prevail without which no republic and no monarchy can exist
|
||
for any length of time. The movement does not consider its mission to be
|
||
the establishment of a monarchy or the preservation of the Republic but
|
||
rather to create a German State.
|
||
|
||
The problem concerning the outer form of this State, that is to say, its
|
||
final shape, is not of fundamental importance. It is a problem which
|
||
must be solved in the light of what seems practical and opportune at the
|
||
moment.
|
||
|
||
Once a nation has understood and appreciated the great problems that
|
||
affect its inner existence, the question of outer formalities will never
|
||
lead to any internal conflict.
|
||
|
||
(11) The problem of the inner organization of the movement is not one of
|
||
principle but of expediency.
|
||
|
||
The best kind of organization is not that which places a large
|
||
intermediary apparatus between the leadership of the movement and the
|
||
individual followers but rather that which works successfully with the
|
||
smallest possible intermediary apparatus. For it is the task of such an
|
||
organization to transmit a certain idea which originated in the brain of
|
||
one individual to a multitude of people and to supervise the manner in
|
||
which this idea is being put into practice.
|
||
|
||
Therefore, from any and every viewpoint, the organization is only a
|
||
necessary evil. At best it is only a means of reaching certain ends. The
|
||
worst happens when it becomes an end in itself.
|
||
|
||
Since the world produces more mechanical than intelligent beings, it
|
||
will always be easier to develop the form of an organization than its
|
||
substance; that is to say, the ideas which it is meant to serve.
|
||
|
||
The march of any idea which strives towards practical fulfilment, and in
|
||
particular those ideas which are of a reformatory character, may be
|
||
roughly sketched as follows:
|
||
|
||
A creative idea takes shape in the mind of somebody who thereupon feels
|
||
himself called upon to transmit this idea to the world. He propounds his
|
||
faith before others and thereby gradually wins a certain number of
|
||
followers. This direct and personal way of promulgating one's ideas
|
||
among one's contemporaries is the most natural and the most ideal. But
|
||
as the movement develops and secures a large number of followers it
|
||
gradually becomes impossible for the original founder of the doctrine on
|
||
which the movement is based to carry on his propaganda personally among
|
||
his innumerable followers and at the same time guide the course of the
|
||
movement.
|
||
|
||
According as the community of followers increases, direct communication
|
||
between the head and the individual followers becomes impossible. This
|
||
intercourse must then take place through an intermediary apparatus
|
||
introduced into the framework of the movement. Thus ideal conditions of
|
||
inter-communication cease, and organization has to be introduced as a
|
||
necessary evil. Small subsidiary groups come into existence, as in the
|
||
political movement, for example, where the local groups represent the
|
||
germ-cells out of which the organization develops later on.
|
||
|
||
But such sub-divisions must not be introduced into the movement until
|
||
the authority of the spiritual founder and of the school he has created
|
||
are accepted without reservation. Otherwise the movement would run the
|
||
risk of becoming split up by divergent doctrines. In this connection too
|
||
much emphasis cannot be laid on the importance of having one geographic
|
||
centre as the chief seat of the movement. Only the existence of such a
|
||
seat or centre, around which a magic charm such as that of Mecca or Rome
|
||
is woven, can supply a movement with that permanent driving force which
|
||
has its sources in the internal unity of the movement and the
|
||
recognition of one head as representing this unity.
|
||
|
||
When the first germinal cells of the organization are being formed care
|
||
must always be taken to insist on the importance of the place where the
|
||
idea originated. The creative, moral and practical greatness of the
|
||
place whence the movement went forth and from which it is governed must
|
||
be exalted to a supreme symbol, and this must be honoured all the more
|
||
according as the original cells of the movement become so numerous that
|
||
they have to be regrouped into larger units in the structure of the
|
||
organization.
|
||
|
||
When the number of individual followers became so large that direct
|
||
personal contact with the head of the movement was out of the question,
|
||
then we had to form those first local groups. As those groups multiplied
|
||
to an extraordinary number it was necessary to establish higher cadres
|
||
into which the local groups were distributed. Examples of such cadres in
|
||
the political organization are those of the region (GAU) and the
|
||
district (BEZIRK).
|
||
|
||
Though it may be easy enough to maintain the original central authority
|
||
over the lowest groups, it is much more difficult to do so in relation
|
||
to the higher units of organization which have now developed. And yet we
|
||
must succeed in doing this, for this is an indispensable condition if
|
||
the unity of the movement is to be guaranteed and the idea of it carried
|
||
into effect.
|
||
|
||
Finally, when those larger intermediary organizations have to be
|
||
combined in new and still higher units it becomes increasingly difficult
|
||
to maintain over them the absolute supremacy of the original seat of the
|
||
movement and the school attached to it.
|
||
|
||
Consequently the mechanical forms of an organization must only be
|
||
introduced if and in so far as the spiritual authority and the ideals of
|
||
the central seat of the organization are shown to be firmly established.
|
||
In the political sphere it may often happen that this supremacy can be
|
||
maintained only when the movement has taken over supreme political
|
||
control of the nation.
|
||
|
||
Having taken all these considerations into account, the following
|
||
principles were laid down for the inner structure of the movement:
|
||
|
||
(a) That at the beginning all activity should be concentrated in one
|
||
town: namely, Munich. That a band of absolutely reliable followers
|
||
should be trained and a school founded which would subsequently help to
|
||
propagate the idea of the movement. That the prestige of the movement,
|
||
for the sake of its subsequent extension, should first be established
|
||
here through gaining as many successful and visible results as possible
|
||
in this one place. To secure name and fame for the movement and its
|
||
leader it was necessary, not only to give in this one town a striking
|
||
example to shatter the belief that the Marxist doctrine was invincible
|
||
but also to show that a counter-doctrine was possible.
|
||
|
||
(b) That local groups should not be established before the supremacy of
|
||
the central authority in Munich was definitely established and
|
||
acknowledged.
|
||
|
||
(c) That District, Regional, and Provincial groups should be formed only
|
||
after the need for them has become evident and only after the supremacy
|
||
of the central authority has been satisfactorily guaranteed.
|
||
|
||
Further, that the creation of subordinate organisms must depend on
|
||
whether or not those persons can be found who are qualified to undertake
|
||
the leadership of them.
|
||
|
||
Here there were only two solutions:
|
||
|
||
(a) That the movement should acquire the necessary funds to attract and
|
||
train intelligent people who would be capable of becoming leaders. The
|
||
personnel thus obtained could then be systematically employed according
|
||
as the tactical situation and the necessity for efficiency demanded.
|
||
|
||
This solution was the easier and the more expedite. But it demanded
|
||
large financial resources; for this group of leaders could work in the
|
||
movement only if they could be paid a salary.
|
||
|
||
(b) Because the movement is not in a position to employ paid officials
|
||
it must begin by depending on honorary helpers. Naturally this solution
|
||
is slower and more difficult.
|
||
|
||
It means that the leaders of the movement have to allow vast territories
|
||
to lie fallow unless in these respective districts one of the members
|
||
comes forward who is capable and willing to place himself at the service
|
||
of the central authority for the purpose of organizing and directing the
|
||
movement in the region concerned.
|
||
|
||
It may happen that in extensive regions no such leader can be found, but
|
||
that at the same time in other regions two or three or even more persons
|
||
appear whose capabilities are almost on a level. The difficulty which
|
||
this situation involves is very great and can be overcome only with the
|
||
passing of the years.
|
||
|
||
For the establishment of any branch of the organization the decisive
|
||
condition must always be that a person can be found who is capable of
|
||
fulfilling the functions of a leader.
|
||
|
||
Just as the army and all its various units of organization are useless
|
||
if there are no officers, so any political organization is worthless if
|
||
it has not the right kind of leaders.
|
||
|
||
If an inspiring personality who has the gift of leadership cannot be
|
||
found for the organization and direction of a local group it is better
|
||
for the movement to refrain from establishing such a group than to run
|
||
the risk of failure after the group has been founded.
|
||
|
||
The will to be a leader is not a sufficient qualification for
|
||
leadership. For the leader must have the other necessary qualities.
|
||
Among these qualities will-power and energy must be considered as more
|
||
serviceable than the intellect of a genius. The most valuable
|
||
association of qualities is to be found in a combination of talent,
|
||
determination and perseverance.
|
||
|
||
(12) The future of a movement is determined by the devotion, and even
|
||
intolerance, with which its members fight for their cause. They must
|
||
feel convinced that their cause alone is just, and they must carry it
|
||
through to success, as against other similar organizations in the same
|
||
field.
|
||
|
||
It is quite erroneous to believe that the strength of a movement must
|
||
increase if it be combined with other movements of a similar kind. Any
|
||
expansion resulting from such a combination will of course mean an
|
||
increase in external development, which superficial observers might
|
||
consider as also an increase of power; but in reality the movement thus
|
||
admits outside elements which will subsequently weaken its
|
||
constitutional vigour.
|
||
|
||
Though it may be said that one movement is identical in character with
|
||
another, in reality no such identity exists. If it did exist then
|
||
practically there would not be two movements but only one. And whatever
|
||
the difference may be, even if it consist only of the measure in which
|
||
the capabilities of the one set of leaders differ from those of the
|
||
other, there it is. It is against the natural law of all development to
|
||
couple dissimilar organisms, or the law is that the stronger must
|
||
overcome the weaker and, through the struggle necessary for such a
|
||
conquest, increase the constitutional vigour and effective strength of
|
||
the victor.
|
||
|
||
By amalgamating political organizations that are approximately alike,
|
||
certain immediate advantages may be gained, but advantages thus gained
|
||
are bound in the long run to become the cause of internal weaknesses
|
||
which will make their appearance later on.
|
||
|
||
A movement can become great only if the unhampered development of its
|
||
internal strength be safeguarded and steadfastly augmented, until
|
||
victory over all its competitors be secured.
|
||
|
||
One may safely say that the strength of a movement and its right to
|
||
existence can be developed only as long as it remains true to the
|
||
principle that struggle is a necessary condition of its progress and
|
||
that its maximum strength will be reached only as soon as complete
|
||
victory has been won.
|
||
|
||
Therefore a movement must not strive to obtain successes that will be
|
||
only immediate and transitory, but it must show a spirit of
|
||
uncompromising perseverance in carrying through a long struggle which
|
||
will secure for it a long period of inner growth.
|
||
|
||
All those movements which owe their expansion to a so-called combination
|
||
of similar organisms, which means that their external strength is due to
|
||
a policy of compromise, are like plants whose growth is forced in a
|
||
hothouse. They shoot up externally but they lack that inner strength
|
||
which enables the natural plant to grow into a tree that will withstand
|
||
the storms of centuries.
|
||
|
||
The greatness of every powerful organization which embodies a creative
|
||
idea lies in the spirit of religious devotion and intolerance with which
|
||
it stands out against all others, because it has an ardent faith in its
|
||
own right. If an idea is right in itself and, furnished with the
|
||
fighting weapons I have mentioned, wages war on this earth, then it is
|
||
invincible and persecution will only add to its internal strength.
|
||
|
||
The greatness of Christianity did not arise from attempts to make
|
||
compromises with those philosophical opinions of the ancient world which
|
||
had some resemblance to its own doctrine, but in the unrelenting and
|
||
fanatical proclamation and defence of its own teaching.
|
||
|
||
The apparent advance that a movement makes by associating itself with
|
||
other movements will be easily reached and surpassed by the steady
|
||
increase of strength which a doctrine and its organization acquires if
|
||
it remains independent and fights its own cause alone.
|
||
|
||
(13) The movement ought to educate its adherents to the principle that
|
||
struggle must not be considered a necessary evil but as something to be
|
||
desired in itself. Therefore they must not be afraid of the hostility
|
||
which their adversaries manifest towards them but they must take it as a
|
||
necessary condition on which their whole right to existence is based.
|
||
They must not try to avoid being hated by those who are the enemies of
|
||
our people and our philosophy of life, but must welcome such hatred.
|
||
Lies and calumnies are part of the method which the enemy employs to
|
||
express his chagrin.
|
||
|
||
The man who is not opposed and vilified and slandered in the Jewish
|
||
Press is not a staunch German and not a true National Socialist. The
|
||
best rule whereby the sincerity of his convictions, his character and
|
||
strength of will, can be measured is the hostility which his name
|
||
arouses among the mortal enemies of our people.
|
||
|
||
The followers of the movement, and indeed the whole nation, must be
|
||
reminded again and again of the fact that, through the medium of his
|
||
newspapers, the Jew is always spreading falsehood and that if he tells
|
||
the truth on some occasions it is only for the purpose of masking some
|
||
greater deceit, which turns the apparent truth into a deliberate
|
||
falsehood. The Jew is the Great Master of Lies. Falsehood and duplicity
|
||
are the weapons with which he fights.
|
||
|
||
Every calumny and falsehood published by the Jews are tokens of honour
|
||
which can be worn by our comrades. He whom they decry most is nearest to
|
||
our hearts and he whom they mortally hate is our best friend.
|
||
|
||
If a comrade of ours opens a Jewish newspaper in the morning and does
|
||
not find himself vilified there, then he has spent yesterday to no
|
||
account. For if he had achieved something he would be persecuted,
|
||
slandered, derided and abused. Those who effectively combat this mortal
|
||
enemy of our people, who is at the same time the enemy of all Aryan
|
||
peoples and all culture, can only expect to arouse opposition on the
|
||
part of this race and become the object of its slanderous attacks.
|
||
|
||
When these truths become part of the flesh and blood, as it were, of our
|
||
members, then the movement will be impregnable and invincible.
|
||
|
||
(14) The movement must use all possible means to cultivate respect for
|
||
the individual personality. It must never forget that all human values
|
||
are based on personal values, and that every idea and achievement is the
|
||
fruit of the creative power of one man. We must never forget that
|
||
admiration for everything that is great is not only a tribute to one
|
||
creative personality but that all those who feel such admiration become
|
||
thereby united under one covenant.
|
||
|
||
Nothing can take the place of the individual, especially if the
|
||
individual embodies in himself not the mechanical element but the
|
||
element of cultural creativeness. No pupil can take the place of the
|
||
master in completing a great picture which he has left unfinished; and
|
||
just in the same way no substitute can take the place of the great poet
|
||
or thinker, or the great statesman or military general. For the source
|
||
of their power is in the realm of artistic creativeness. It can never be
|
||
mechanically acquired, because it is an innate product of divine grace.
|
||
|
||
The greatest revolutions and the greatest achievements of this world,
|
||
its greatest cultural works and the immortal creations of great
|
||
statesmen, are inseparably bound up with one name which stands as a
|
||
symbol for them in each respective case. The failure to pay tribute to
|
||
one of those great spirits signifies a neglect of that enormous source
|
||
of power which lies in the remembrance of all great men and women.
|
||
|
||
The Jew himself knows this best. He, whose great men have always been
|
||
great only in their efforts to destroy mankind and its civilization,
|
||
takes good care that they are worshipped as idols. But the Jew tries to
|
||
degrade the honour in which nations hold their great men and women. He
|
||
stigmatizes this honour as 'the cult of personality'.
|
||
|
||
As soon as a nation has so far lost its courage as to submit to this
|
||
impudent defamation on the part of the Jews it renounces the most
|
||
important source of its own inner strength. This inner force cannot
|
||
arise from a policy of pandering to the masses but only from the worship
|
||
of men of genius, whose lives have uplifted and ennobled the nation
|
||
itself.
|
||
|
||
When men's hearts are breaking and their souls are plunged into the
|
||
depths of despair, their great forebears turn their eyes towards them
|
||
from the dim shadows of the past--those forebears who knew how to
|
||
triumph over anxiety and affliction, mental servitude and physical
|
||
bondage--and extend their eternal hands in a gesture of encouragement to
|
||
despairing souls. Woe to the nation that is ashamed to clasp those
|
||
hands.
|
||
|
||
During the initial phase of our movement our greatest handicap was the
|
||
fact that none of us were known and our names meant nothing, a fact
|
||
which then seemed to some of us to make the chances of final success
|
||
problematical. Our most difficult task then was to make our members
|
||
firmly believe that there was a tremendous future in store for the
|
||
movement and to maintain this belief as a living faith; for at that time
|
||
only six, seven or eight persons came to hear one of our speakers.
|
||
|
||
Consider that only six or seven poor devils who were entirely unknown
|
||
came together to found a movement which should succeed in doing what the
|
||
great mass-parties had failed to do: namely, to reconstruct the German
|
||
REICH, even in greater power and glory than before. We should have been
|
||
very pleased if we were attacked or even ridiculed. But the most
|
||
depressing fact was that nobody paid any attention to us whatever. This
|
||
utter lack of interest in us caused me great mental pain at that time.
|
||
|
||
When I entered the circle of those men there was not yet any question of
|
||
a party or a movement. I have already described the impression which was
|
||
made on me when I first came into contact with that small organization.
|
||
Subsequently I had time, and also the occasion, to study the form of
|
||
this so-called party which at first had made such a woeful impression.
|
||
The picture was indeed quite depressing and discouraging. There was
|
||
nothing, absolutely nothing at all. There was only the name of a party.
|
||
And the committee consisted of all the party members. Somehow or other
|
||
it seemed just the kind of thing we were about to fight against--a
|
||
miniature parliament. The voting system was employed. When the great
|
||
parliament cried until they were hoarse--at least they shouted over
|
||
problems of importance--here this small circle engaged in interminable
|
||
discussions as to the form in which they might answer the letters which
|
||
they were delighted to have received.
|
||
|
||
Needless to say, the public knew nothing of all this. In Munich nobody
|
||
knew of the existence of such a party, not even by name, except our few
|
||
members and their small circle of acquaintances.
|
||
|
||
Every Wednesday what was called a committee meeting was held in one of
|
||
the caf<61>s, and a debate was arranged for one evening each week. In the
|
||
beginning all the members of the movement were also members of the
|
||
committee, therefore the same persons always turned up at both meetings.
|
||
The first step that had to be taken was to extend the narrow limits of
|
||
this small circle and get new members, but the principal necessity was
|
||
to utilize all the means at our command for the purpose of making the
|
||
movement known.
|
||
|
||
We chose the following methods: We decided to hold a monthly meeting to
|
||
which the public would be invited. Some of the invitations were
|
||
typewritten, and some were written by hand. For the first few meetings
|
||
we distributed them in the streets and delivered them personally at
|
||
certain houses. Each one canvassed among his own acquaintances and tried
|
||
to persuade some of them to attend our meetings. The result was
|
||
lamentable.
|
||
|
||
I still remember once how I personally delivered eighty of these
|
||
invitations and how we waited in the evening for the crowds to come.
|
||
After waiting in vain for a whole hour the chairman finally had to open
|
||
the meeting. Again there were only seven people present, the old
|
||
familiar seven.
|
||
|
||
We then changed our methods. We had the invitations written with a
|
||
typewriter in a Munich stationer's shop and then multigraphed them.
|
||
|
||
The result was that a few more people attended our next meeting. The
|
||
number increased gradually from eleven to thirteen to seventeen, to
|
||
twenty-three and finally to thirty-four. We collected some money within
|
||
our own circle, each poor devil giving a small contribution, and in that
|
||
way we raised sufficient funds to be able to advertise one of our
|
||
meetings in the MUNICH OBSERVER, which was still an independent paper.
|
||
|
||
This time we had an astonishing success. We had chosen the Munich
|
||
HOFBR<EFBFBD>U HAUS KELLER (which must not be confounded with the Munich
|
||
HOFBR<EFBFBD>U HAUS FESTSAAL) as our meeting-place. It was a small hall and
|
||
would accommodate scarcely more than 130 people. To me, however, the
|
||
hall seemed enormous, and we were all trembling lest this tremendous
|
||
edifice would remain partly empty on the night of the meeting.
|
||
|
||
At seven o'clock 111 persons were present, and the meeting was opened. A
|
||
Munich professor delivered the principal address, and I spoke after him.
|
||
That was my first appearance in the role of public orator. The whole
|
||
thing seemed a very daring adventure to Herr Harrer, who was then
|
||
chairman of the party. He was a very decent fellow; but he had an
|
||
A PRIORI conviction that, although I might have quite a number of good
|
||
qualities, I certainly did not have a talent for public speaking. Even
|
||
later he could not be persuaded to change his opinion. But he was
|
||
mistaken. Twenty minutes had been allotted to me for my speech on this
|
||
occasion, which might be looked upon as our first public meeting.
|
||
|
||
I talked for thirty minutes, and what I always had felt deep down in my
|
||
heart, without being able to put it to the test, was here proved to be
|
||
true: I could make a good speech. At the end of the thirty minutes it
|
||
was quite clear that all the people in the little hall had been
|
||
profoundly impressed. The enthusiasm aroused among them found its first
|
||
expression in the fact that my appeal to those present brought us
|
||
donations which amounted to three hundred marks. That was a great relief
|
||
for us. Our finances were at that time so meagre that we could not
|
||
afford to have our party prospectus printed, or even leaflets. Now we
|
||
possessed at least the nucleus of a fund from which we could pay the
|
||
most urgent and necessary expenses.
|
||
|
||
But the success of this first larger meeting was also important from
|
||
another point of view. I had already begun to introduce some young and
|
||
fresh members into the committee. During the long period of my military
|
||
service I had come to know a large number of good comrades whom I was
|
||
now able to persuade to join our party. All of them were energetic and
|
||
disciplined young men who, through their years of military service, had
|
||
been imbued with the principle that nothing is impossible and that where
|
||
there's a will there's a way.
|
||
|
||
The need for this fresh blood supply became evident to me after a few
|
||
weeks of collaboration with the new members. Herr Harrer, who was then
|
||
chairman of the party, was a journalist by profession, and as such he
|
||
was a man of general knowledge. But as leader of the party he had one
|
||
very serious handicap: he could not speak to the crowd. Though he did
|
||
his work conscientiously, it lacked the necessary driving force,
|
||
probably for the reason that he had no oratorical gifts whatsoever. Herr
|
||
Drexler, at that time chairman of the Munich local group, was a simple
|
||
working man. He, too, was not of any great importance as a speaker.
|
||
Moreover, he was not a soldier. He had never done military service, even
|
||
during the War. So that this man who was feeble and diffident by nature
|
||
had missed the only school which knows how to transform diffident and
|
||
weakly natures into real men. Therefore neither of those two men were of
|
||
the stuff that would have enabled them to stir up an ardent and
|
||
indomitable faith in the ultimate triumph of the movement and to brush
|
||
aside, with obstinate force and if necessary with brutal ruthlessness,
|
||
all obstacles that stood in the path of the new idea. Such a task could
|
||
be carried out only by men who had been trained, body and soul, in those
|
||
military virtues which make a man, so to speak, agile as a greyhound,
|
||
tough as leather, and hard as Krupp steel.
|
||
|
||
At that time I was still a soldier. Physically and mentally I had the
|
||
polish of six years of service, so that in the beginning this circle
|
||
must have looked on me as quite a stranger. In common with my army
|
||
comrades, I had forgotten such phrases as: "That will not go", or "That
|
||
is not possible", or "We ought not to take such a risk; it is too
|
||
dangerous".
|
||
|
||
The whole undertaking was of its very nature dangerous. At that time
|
||
there were many parts of Germany where it would have been absolutely
|
||
impossible openly to invite people to a national meeting that dared to
|
||
make a direct appeal to the masses. Those who attended such meetings
|
||
were usually dispersed and driven away with broken heads. It certainly
|
||
did not call for any great qualities to be able to do things in that
|
||
way. The largest so-called bourgeois mass meetings were accustomed to
|
||
dissolve, and those in attendance would run away like rabbits when
|
||
frightened by a dog as soon as a dozen communists appeared on the scene.
|
||
The Reds used to pay little attention to those bourgeois organizations
|
||
where only babblers talked. They recognized the inner triviality of such
|
||
associations much better than the members themselves and therefore felt
|
||
that they need not be afraid of them. On the contrary, however, they
|
||
were all the more determined to use every possible means of annihilating
|
||
once and for all any movement that appeared to them to be a danger to
|
||
their own interests. The most effective means which they always employed
|
||
in such cases were terror and brute force.
|
||
|
||
The Marxist leaders, whose business consisted in deceiving and
|
||
misleading the public, naturally hated most of all a movement whose
|
||
declared aim was to win over those masses which hitherto had been
|
||
exclusively at the service of international Marxism in the Jewish and
|
||
Stock Exchange parties. The title alone, 'German Labour party',
|
||
irritated them. It could easily be foreseen that at the first opportune
|
||
moment we should have to face the opposition of the Marxist despots, who
|
||
were still intoxicated with their triumph in 1918.
|
||
|
||
People in the small circles of our own movement at that time showed a
|
||
certain amount of anxiety at the prospect of such a conflict. They
|
||
wanted to refrain as much as possible from coming out into the open,
|
||
because they feared that they might be attacked and beaten. In their
|
||
minds they saw our first public meetings broken up and feared that the
|
||
movement might thus be ruined for ever. I found it difficult to defend
|
||
my own position, which was that the conflict should not be evaded but
|
||
that it should be faced openly and that we should be armed with those
|
||
weapons which are the only protection against brute force. Terror cannot
|
||
be overcome by the weapons of the mind but only by counter-terror. The
|
||
success of our first public meeting strengthened my own position. The
|
||
members felt encouraged to arrange for a second meeting, even on a
|
||
larger scale.
|
||
|
||
Some time in October 1919 the second larger meeting took place in the
|
||
EBERLBR<EFBFBD>U KELLER. The theme of our speeches was 'Brest-Litowsk and
|
||
Versailles'. There were four speakers. I talked for almost an hour, and
|
||
the success was even more striking than at our first meeting. The number
|
||
of people who attended had grown to more than 130. An attempt to disturb
|
||
the proceedings was immediately frustrated by my comrades. The would-be
|
||
disturbers were thrown down the stairs, bearing imprints of violence on
|
||
their heads.
|
||
|
||
A fortnight later another meeting took place in the same hall. The
|
||
number in attendance had now increased to more than 170, which meant
|
||
that the room was fairly well filled. I spoke again, and once more the
|
||
success obtained was greater than at the previous meeting.
|
||
|
||
Then I proposed that a larger hall should be found. After looking around
|
||
for some time we discovered one at the other end of the town, in the
|
||
'Deutschen REICH' in the Dachauer Strasse. The first meeting at this new
|
||
rendezvous had a smaller attendance than the previous meeting. There
|
||
were just less than 140 present. The members of the committee began to
|
||
be discouraged, and those who had always been sceptical were now
|
||
convinced that this falling-off in the attendance was due to the fact
|
||
that we were holding the meetings at too short intervals. There were
|
||
lively discussions, in which I upheld my own opinion that a city with
|
||
700,000 inhabitants ought to be able not only to stand one meeting every
|
||
fortnight but ten meetings every week. I held that we should not be
|
||
discouraged by one comparative setback, that the tactics we had chosen
|
||
were correct, and that sooner or later success would be ours if we only
|
||
continued with determined perseverance to push forward on our road. This
|
||
whole winter of 1919-20 was one continual struggle to strengthen
|
||
confidence in our ability to carry the movement through to success and
|
||
to intensify this confidence until it became a burning faith that could
|
||
move mountains.
|
||
|
||
Our next meeting in the small hall proved the truth of my contention.
|
||
Our audience had increased to more than 200. The publicity effect and
|
||
the financial success were splendid. I immediately urged that a further
|
||
meeting should be held. It took place in less than a fortnight, and
|
||
there were more than 270 people present. Two weeks later we invited our
|
||
followers and their friends, for the seventh time, to attend our
|
||
meeting. The same hall was scarcely large enough for the number that
|
||
came. They amounted to more than four hundred.
|
||
|
||
During this phase the young movement developed its inner form. Sometimes
|
||
we had more or less hefty discussions within our small circle. From
|
||
various sides--it was then just the same as it is to-day--objections
|
||
were made against the idea of calling the young movement a party. I have
|
||
always considered such criticism as a demonstration of practical
|
||
incapability and narrow-mindedness on the part of the critic. Those
|
||
objections have always been raised by men who could not differentiate
|
||
between external appearances and inner strength, but tried to judge the
|
||
movement by the high-sounding character of the name attached to it. To
|
||
this end they ransacked the vocabulary of our ancestors, with
|
||
unfortunate results.
|
||
|
||
At that time it was very difficult to make the people understand that
|
||
every movement is a party as long as it has not brought its ideals to
|
||
final triumph and thus achieved its purpose. It is a party even if it
|
||
give itself a thousand difterent names.
|
||
|
||
Any person who tries to carry into practice an original idea whose
|
||
realization would be for the benefit of his fellow men will first have
|
||
to look for disciples who are ready to fight for the ends he has in
|
||
view. And if these ends did not go beyond the destruction of the party
|
||
system and therewith put a stop to the process of disintegration, then
|
||
all those who come forward as protagonists and apostles of such an ideal
|
||
are a party in themselves as long as their final goal is reached. It is
|
||
only hair-splitting and playing with words when these antiquated
|
||
theorists, whose practical success is in reverse ratio to their wisdom,
|
||
presume to think they can change the character of a movement which is at
|
||
the same time a party, by merely changing its name.
|
||
|
||
On the contrary, it is entirely out of harmony with the spirit of the
|
||
nation to keep harping on that far-off and forgotten nomenclature which
|
||
belongs to the ancient Germanic times and does not awaken any distinct
|
||
association in our age. This habit of borrowing words from the dead past
|
||
tends to mislead the people into thinking that the external trappings of
|
||
its vocabulary are the important feature of a movement. It is really a
|
||
mischievous habit; but it is quite prevalent nowadays.
|
||
|
||
At that time, and subsequently, I had to warn followers repeatedly
|
||
against these wandering scholars who were peddling Germanic folk-lore
|
||
and who never accomplished anything positive or practical, except to
|
||
cultivate their own superabundant self-conceit. The new movement must
|
||
guard itself against an influx of people whose only recommendation is
|
||
their own statement that they have been fighting for these very same
|
||
ideals during the last thirty or forty years.
|
||
|
||
Now if somebody has fought for forty years to carry into effect what he
|
||
calls an idea, and if these alleged efforts not only show no positive
|
||
results but have not even been able to hinder the success of the
|
||
opposing party, then the story of those forty years of futile effort
|
||
furnishes sufficient proof for the incompetence of such a protagonist.
|
||
People of that kind are specially dangerous because they do not want to
|
||
participate in the movement as ordinary members. They talk rather of the
|
||
leading positions which would be the only fitting posts for them, in
|
||
view of their past work and also so that they might be enabled to carry
|
||
on that work further. But woe to a young movement if the conduct of it
|
||
should fall into the hands of such people. A business man who has been
|
||
in charge of a great firm for forty years and who has completely ruined
|
||
it through his mismanagement is not the kind of person one would
|
||
recommend for the founding of a new firm. And it is just the same with a
|
||
new national movement. Nobody of common sense would appoint to a leading
|
||
post in such a movement some Teutonic Methuselah who had been
|
||
ineffectively preaching some idea for a period of forty years, until
|
||
himself and his idea had entered the stage of senile decay.
|
||
|
||
Furthermore, only a very small percentage of such people join a new
|
||
movement with the intention of serving its end unselfishly and helping
|
||
in the spread of its principles. In most cases they come because they
|
||
think that, under the aegis of the new movement, it will be possible for
|
||
them to promulgate their old ideas to the misfortune of their new
|
||
listeners. Anyhow, nobody ever seems able to describe what exactly these
|
||
ideas are.
|
||
|
||
It is typical of such persons that they rant about ancient Teutonic
|
||
heroes of the dim and distant ages, stone axes, battle spears and
|
||
shields, whereas in reality they themselves are the woefullest poltroons
|
||
imaginable. For those very same people who brandish Teutonic tin swords
|
||
that have been fashioned carefully according to ancient models and wear
|
||
padded bear-skins, with the horns of oxen mounted over their bearded
|
||
faces, proclaim that all contemporary conflicts must be decided by the
|
||
weapons of the mind alone. And thus they skedaddle when the first
|
||
communist cudgel appears. Posterity will have little occasion to write a
|
||
new epic on these heroic gladiators.
|
||
|
||
I have seen too much of that kind of people not to feel a profound
|
||
contempt for their miserable play-acting. To the masses of the nation
|
||
they are just an object of ridicule; but the Jew finds it to his own
|
||
interest to treat these folk-lore comedians with respect and to prefer
|
||
them to real men who are fighting to establish a German State. And yet
|
||
these comedians are extremely proud of themselves. Notwithstanding their
|
||
complete fecklessness, which is an established fact, they pretend to
|
||
know everything better than other people; so much so that they make
|
||
themselves a veritable nuisance to all sincere and honest patriots, to
|
||
whom not only the heroism of the past is worthy of honour but who also
|
||
feel bound to leave examples of their own work for the inspiration of
|
||
the coming generation.
|
||
|
||
Among those people there were some whose conduct can be explained by
|
||
their innate stupidity and incompetence; but there are others who have a
|
||
definite ulterior purpose in view. Often it is difficult to distinguish
|
||
between the two classes. The impression which I often get, especially of
|
||
those so-called religious reformers whose creed is grounded on ancient
|
||
Germanic customs, is that they are the missionaries and prot<6F>g<EFBFBD>s of
|
||
those forces which do not wish to see a national revival taking place in
|
||
Germany. All their activities tend to turn the attention of the people
|
||
away from the necessity of fighting together in a common cause against
|
||
the common enemy, namely the Jew. Moreover, that kind of preaching
|
||
induces the people to use up their energies, not in fighting for the
|
||
common cause, but in absurd and ruinous religious controversies within
|
||
their own ranks. There are definite grounds that make it absolutely
|
||
necessary for the movement to be dominated by a strong central force
|
||
which is embodied in the authoritative leadership. In this way alone is
|
||
it possible to counteract the activity of such fatal elements. And that
|
||
is just the reason why these folk-lore Ahasueruses are vigorously
|
||
hostile to any movement whose members are firmly united under one leader
|
||
and one discipline. Those people of whom I have spoken hate such a
|
||
movement because it is capable of putting a stop to their mischief.
|
||
|
||
It was not without good reason that when we laid down a clearly defined
|
||
programme for the new movement we excluded the word V<>LKISCH from it.
|
||
The concept underlying the term V<>LKISCH cannot serve as the basis of a
|
||
movement, because it is too indefinite and general in its application.
|
||
Therefore, if somebody called himself V<>LKISCH such a designation could
|
||
not be taken as the hall-mark of some definite, party affiliation.
|
||
|
||
Because this concept is so indefinite from the practical viewpoint, it
|
||
gives rise to various interpretations and thus people can appeal to it
|
||
all the more easily as a sort of personal recommendation. Whenever such
|
||
a vague concept, which is subject to so many interpretations, is
|
||
admitted into a political movement it tends to break up the disciplined
|
||
solidarity of the fighting forces. No such solidarity can be maintained
|
||
if each individual member be allowed to define for himself what he
|
||
believes and what he is willing to do.
|
||
|
||
One feels it a disgrace when one notices the kind of people who float
|
||
about nowadays with the V<>LKISCH symbol stuck in their buttonholes, and
|
||
at the same time to notice how many people have various ideas of their
|
||
own as to the significance of that symbol. A well-known professor in
|
||
Bavaria, a famous combatant who fights only with the weapons of the mind
|
||
and who boasts of having marched against Berlin--by shouldering the
|
||
weapons of the mind, of course--believes that the word V<>LKISCH is
|
||
synonymous with 'monarchical'. But this learned authority has hitherto
|
||
neglected to explain how our German monarchs of the past can be
|
||
identified with what we generally mean by the word V<>LKISCH to-day. I am
|
||
afraid he will find himself at a loss if he is asked to give a precise
|
||
answer. For it would be very difficult indeed to imagine anything less
|
||
V<EFBFBD>LKISCH than most of those German monarchical States were. Had they
|
||
been otherwise they would not have disappeared; or if they were
|
||
V<EFBFBD>LKISCH, then the fact of their downfall may be taken as evidence that
|
||
the V<>LKISCH outlook on the world (WELTANSCHAUUNG) is a false outlook.
|
||
|
||
Everybody interprets this concept in his own way. But such multifarious
|
||
opinions cannot be adopted as the basis of a militant political
|
||
movement. I need not call attention to the absolute lack of worldly
|
||
wisdom, and especially the failure to understand the soul of the nation,
|
||
which is displayed by these Messianic Precursors of the Twentieth
|
||
Century. Sufficient attention has been called to those people by the
|
||
ridicule which the left-wing parties have bestowed on them. They allow
|
||
them to babble on and sneer at them.
|
||
|
||
I do not set much value on the friendship of people who do not succeed
|
||
in getting disliked by their enemies. Therefore, we considered the
|
||
friendship of such people as not only worthless but even dangerous to
|
||
our young movement. That was the principal reason why we first called
|
||
ourselves a PARTY. We hoped that by giving ourselves such a name we
|
||
might scare away a whole host of V<>LKISCH dreamers. And that was the
|
||
reason also why we named our Party, THE NATIONAL SOCIALIST GERMAN LABOUR
|
||
PARTY.
|
||
|
||
The first term, Party, kept away all those dreamers who live in the past
|
||
and all the lovers of bombastic nomenclature, as well as those who went
|
||
around beating the big drum for the V<>LKISCH idea. The full name of the
|
||
Party kept away all those heroes whose weapon is the sword of the spirit
|
||
and all those whining poltroons who take refuge behind their so-called
|
||
'intelligence' as if it were a kind of shield.
|
||
|
||
It was only to be expected that this latter class would launch a massed
|
||
attack against us after our movement had started; but, of course, it was
|
||
only a pen-and-ink attack, for the goose-quill is the only weapon which
|
||
these V<>LKISCH lancers wield. We had declared one of our principles
|
||
thus: "We shall meet violence with violence in our own defence".
|
||
Naturally that principle disturbed the equanimity of the knights of the
|
||
pen. They reproached us bitterly not only for what they called our crude
|
||
worship of the cudgel but also because, according to them, we had no
|
||
intellectual forces on our side. These charlatans did not think for a
|
||
moment that a Demosthenes could be reduced to silence at a mass-meeting
|
||
by fifty idiots who had come there to shout him down and use their fists
|
||
against his supporters. The innate cowardice of the pen-and-ink
|
||
charlatan prevents him from exposing himself to such a danger, for he
|
||
always works in safe retirement and never dares to make a noise or come
|
||
forward in public.
|
||
|
||
Even to-day I must warn the members of our young movement in the
|
||
strongest possible terms to guard against the danger of falling into the
|
||
snare of those who call themselves 'silent workers'. These 'silent
|
||
workers' are not only a whitelivered lot but are also, and always will
|
||
be, ignorant do-nothings. A man who is aware of certain happenings and
|
||
knows that a certain danger threatens, and at the same time sees a
|
||
certain remedy which can be employed against it, is in duty bound not to
|
||
work in silence but to come into the open and publicly fight for the
|
||
destruction of the evil and the acceptance of his own remedy. If he does
|
||
not do so, then he is neglecting his duty and shows that he is weak in
|
||
character and that he fails to act either because of his timidity, or
|
||
indolence or incompetence. Most of these 'silent workers' generally
|
||
pretend to know God knows what. Not one of them is capable of any real
|
||
achievement, but they keep on trying to fool the world with their
|
||
antics. Though quite indolent, they try to create the impression that
|
||
their 'silent work' keeps them very busy. To put it briefly, they are
|
||
sheer swindlers, political jobbers who feel chagrined by the honest work
|
||
which others are doing. When you find one of these V<>LKISCH moths
|
||
buzzing over the value of his 'silent work' you may be sure that you are
|
||
dealing with a fellow who does no productive work at all but steals from
|
||
others the fruits of their honest labour.
|
||
|
||
In addition to all this one ought to note the arrogance and conceited
|
||
impudence with which these obscurantist idlers try to tear to pieces the
|
||
work of other people, criticizing it with an air of superiority, and
|
||
thus playing into the hands of the mortal enemy of our people.
|
||
|
||
Even the simplest follower who has the courage to stand on the table in
|
||
some beer-hall where his enemies are gathered, and manfully and openly
|
||
defend his position against them, achieves a thousand times more than
|
||
these slinking hypocrites. He at least will convert one or two people to
|
||
believe in the movement. One can examine his work and test its
|
||
effectiveness by its actual results. But those knavish swindlers--who
|
||
praise their own 'silent work' and shelter themselves under the cloak of
|
||
anonymity, are just worthless drones, in the truest sense of the term,
|
||
and are utterly useless for the purpose of our national reconstruction.
|
||
|
||
In the beginning of 1920 I put forward the idea of holding our first
|
||
mass meeting. On this proposal there were differences of opinion amongst
|
||
us. Some leading members of our party thought that the time was not ripe
|
||
for such a meeting and that the result might be detrimental. The Press
|
||
of the Left had begun to take notice of us and we were lucky enough in
|
||
being able gradually to arouse their wrath. We had begun to appear at
|
||
other meetings and to ask questions or contradict the speakers, with the
|
||
natural result that we were shouted down forthwith. But still we thereby
|
||
gained some of our ends. People began to know of our existence and the
|
||
better they understood us, the stronger became their aversion and their
|
||
enmity. Therefore we might expect that a large contingent of our friends
|
||
from the Red Camp would attend our first mass meeting.
|
||
|
||
I fully realized that our meeting would probably be broken up. But we
|
||
had to face the fight; if not now, then some months later. Since the
|
||
first day of our foundation we were resolved to secure the future of the
|
||
movement by fighting our way forward in a spirit of blind faith and
|
||
ruthless determination. I was well acquainted with the mentality of all
|
||
those who belonged to the Red Camp, and I knew quite well that if we
|
||
opposed them tooth and nail not only would we make an impression on them
|
||
but that we even might win new followers for ourselves. Therefore I felt
|
||
that we must decide on a policy of active opposition.
|
||
|
||
Herr Harrer was then chairman of our party. He did not see eye to eye
|
||
with me as to the opportune time for our first mass meeting. Accordingly
|
||
he felt himself obliged to resign from the leadership of the movement,
|
||
as an upright and honest man. Herr Anton Drexler took his place. I kept
|
||
the work of organizing the propaganda in my own hands and I listened to
|
||
no compromise in carrying it out.
|
||
|
||
We decided on February 24th 1920 as the date for the first great popular
|
||
meeting to be held under the aegis of this movement which was hitherto
|
||
unknown.
|
||
|
||
I made all the preparatory arrangements personally. They did not take
|
||
very long. The whole apparatus of our organization was set in motion for
|
||
the purpose of being able to secure a rapid decision as to our policy.
|
||
Within twenty-four hours we had to decide on the attitude we should take
|
||
in regard to the questions of the day which would be put forward at the
|
||
mass meeting. The notices which advertised the meeting had to bring
|
||
these points before the public. In this direction we were forced to
|
||
depend on the use of posters and leaflets, the contents of which and the
|
||
manner in which they were displayed were decided upon in accordance with
|
||
the principles which I have already laid down in dealing with propaganda
|
||
in general. They were produced in a form which would appeal to the
|
||
crowd. They concentrated on a few points which were repeated again and
|
||
again. The text was concise and definite, an absolutely dogmatic form of
|
||
expression being used. We distributed these posters and leaflets with a
|
||
dogged energy and then we patiently waited for the effect they would
|
||
produce.
|
||
|
||
For our principal colour we chose red, as it has an exciting effect on
|
||
the eye and was therefore calculated to arouse the attention of our
|
||
opponents and irritate them. Thus they would have to take notice of
|
||
us--whether they liked it or not--and would not forget us.
|
||
|
||
One result of our tactics was to show up clearly the close political
|
||
fraternization that existed also here in Bavaria between the Marxists
|
||
and the Centre Party. The political party that held power in Bavaria,
|
||
which was the Bavarian People's Party (affiliated with the Centre Party)
|
||
did its best to counteract the effect which our placards were having on
|
||
the 'Red' masses. Thus they made a definite step to fetter our
|
||
activities. If the police could find no other grounds for prohibiting
|
||
our placards, then they might claim that we were disturbing the traffic
|
||
in the streets. And thus the so-called German National People's Party
|
||
calmed the anxieties of their 'Red' allies by completely prohibiting
|
||
those placards which proclaimed a message that was bringing back to the
|
||
bosom of their own people hundreds of thousands of workers who had been
|
||
misled by international agitators and incensed against their own nation.
|
||
These placards bear witness to the bitterness of the struggle in which
|
||
the young movement was then engaged. Future generations will find in
|
||
these placards a documentary proof of our determination and the justice
|
||
of our own cause. And these placards will also prove how the so-called
|
||
national officials took arbitrary action to strangle a movement that did
|
||
not please them, because it was nationalizing the broad masses of the
|
||
people and winning them back to their own racial stock.
|
||
|
||
These placards will also help to refute the theory that there was then a
|
||
national government in Bavaria and they will afford documentary
|
||
confirmation of the fact that if Bavaria remained nationally-minded
|
||
during the years 1919, 1920, 1921, 1922 and 1923, this was not due to a
|
||
national government but it was because the national spirit gradually
|
||
gained a deeper hold on the people and the Government was forced to
|
||
follow public feeling. The Government authorities themselves did
|
||
everything in their power to hamper this process of recovery and make it
|
||
impossible. But in this connection two officials must be mentioned as
|
||
outstanding exceptions.
|
||
|
||
Ernst P<>hner was Chief of Police at the time. He had a loyal counsellor
|
||
in Dr. Frick, who was his chief executive official. These were the only
|
||
men among the higher officials who had the courage to place the
|
||
interests of their country before their own interests in holding on to
|
||
their jobs. Of those in responsible positions Ernst P<>hner was the only
|
||
one who did not pay court to the mob but felt that his duty was towards
|
||
the nation as such and was ready to risk and sacrifice everything, even
|
||
his personal livelihood, to help in the restoration of the German
|
||
people, whom he dearly loved. For that reason he was a bitter thorn in
|
||
the side of the venal group of Government officials. It was not the
|
||
interests of the nation or the necessity of a national revival that
|
||
inspired or directed their conduct. They simply truckled to the wishes
|
||
of the Government, so as to secure their daily bread for themselves, but
|
||
they had no thought whatsoever for the national welfare that had been
|
||
entrusted to their care.
|
||
|
||
Above all, P<>hner was one of those people who, in contradistinction to
|
||
the majority of our so-called defenders of the authority of the State,
|
||
did not fear to incur the enmity of the traitors to the country and the
|
||
nation but rather courted it as a mark of honour and honesty. For such
|
||
men the hatred of the Jews and Marxists and the lies and calumnies they
|
||
spread, were their only source of happiness in the midst of the national
|
||
misery. P<>hner was a man of granite loyalty. He was like one of the
|
||
ascetic characters of the classical era and was at the same time that
|
||
kind of straightforward German for whom the saying 'Better dead than a
|
||
slave' is not an empty phrase but a veritable heart's cry.
|
||
|
||
In my opinion he and his collaborator, Dr. Frick, are the only men
|
||
holding positions then in Bavaria who have the right to be considered as
|
||
having taken active part in the creation of a national Bavaria.
|
||
|
||
Before holding our first great mass meeting it was necessary not only to
|
||
have our propaganda material ready but also to have the main items of
|
||
our programme printed.
|
||
|
||
In the second volume of this book I shall give a detailed account of the
|
||
guiding principles which we then followed in drawing up our programme.
|
||
Here I will only say that the programme was arranged not merely to set
|
||
forth the form and content of the young movement but also with an eye to
|
||
making it understood among the broad masses. The so-called intellectual
|
||
circles made jokes and sneered at it and then tried to criticize it. But
|
||
the effect of our programme proved that the ideas which we then held
|
||
were right.
|
||
|
||
During those years I saw dozens of new movements arise and disappear
|
||
without leaving a trace behind. Only one movement has survived. It is
|
||
the National Socialist German Labour Party. To-day I am more convinced
|
||
than ever before that, though they may combat us and try to paralyse our
|
||
movement, and though pettifogging party ministers may forbid us the
|
||
right of free speech, they cannot prevent the triumph of our ideas. When
|
||
the present system of statal administration and even the names of the
|
||
political parties that represent it will be forgotten, the programmatic
|
||
basis of the National Socialist movement will supply the groundwork on
|
||
which the future State will be built.
|
||
|
||
The meetings which we held before January 1920 had enabled us to collect
|
||
the financial means that were necessary to have our first pamphlets and
|
||
posters and programmes printed.
|
||
|
||
I shall bring the first part of this book to a close by referring to our
|
||
first great mass meeting, because that meeting marked the occasion on
|
||
which our framework as a small party had to be broken up and we started
|
||
to become the most powerful factor of this epoch in the influence we
|
||
exercised on public opinion. At that time my chief anxiety was that we
|
||
might not fill the hall and that we might have to face empty benches. I
|
||
myself was firmly convinced that if only the people would come this day
|
||
would turn out a great success for the young movement. That was my
|
||
feeling as I waited impatiently for the hour to come.
|
||
|
||
It had been announced that the meeting would begin at 7.30. A
|
||
quarter-of-an-hour before the opening time I walked through the chief
|
||
hall of the Hofbr<62>uhaus on the PLATZ in Munich and my heart was nearly
|
||
bursting with joy. The great hall--for at that time it seemed very big
|
||
to me--was filled to overflowing. Nearly 2,000 people were present. And,
|
||
above all, those people had come whom we had always wished to reach.
|
||
More than half the audience consisted of persons who seemed to be
|
||
communists or independents. Our first great demonstration was destined,
|
||
in their view, to come to an abrupt end.
|
||
|
||
But things happened otherwise. When the first speaker had finished I got
|
||
up to speak. After a few minutes I was met with a hailstorm of
|
||
interruptions and violent encounters broke out in the body of the hall.
|
||
A handful of my loyal war comrades and some other followers grappled
|
||
with the disturbers and restored order in a little while. I was able to
|
||
continue my speech. After half an hour the applause began to drown the
|
||
interruptions and the hootings. Then interruptions gradually ceased and
|
||
applause took their place. When I finally came to explain the
|
||
twenty-five points and laid them, point after point, before the masses
|
||
gathered there and asked them to pass their own judgment on each point,
|
||
one point after another was accepted with increasing enthusiasm. When
|
||
the last point was reached I had before me a hall full of people united
|
||
by a new conviction, a new faith and a new will.
|
||
|
||
Nearly four hours had passed when the hall began to clear. As the masses
|
||
streamed towards the exits, crammed shoulder to shoulder, shoving and
|
||
pushing, I knew that a movement was now set afoot among the German
|
||
people which would never pass into oblivion.
|
||
|
||
A fire was enkindled from whose glowing heat the sword would be
|
||
fashioned which would restore freedom to the German Siegfried and bring
|
||
back life to the German nation.
|
||
|
||
Beside the revival which I then foresaw, I also felt that the Goddess of
|
||
Vengeance was now getting ready to redress the treason of the 9th of
|
||
November, 1918. The hall was emptied. The movement was on the march.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
VOLUME II: THE NATIONAL SOCIALIST MOVEMENT
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
CHAPTER I
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
WELTANSCHAUUNG AND PARTY
|
||
|
||
|
||
On February 24th, 1920, the first great mass meeting under the auspices
|
||
of the new movement took place. In the Banquet Hall of the Hofbr<62>uhaus
|
||
in Munich the twenty-five theses which constituted the programme of our
|
||
new party were expounded to an audience of nearly two thousand people
|
||
and each thesis was enthusiastically received.
|
||
|
||
Thus we brought to the knowledge of the public those first principles
|
||
and lines of action along which the new struggle was to be conducted for
|
||
the abolition of a confused mass of obsolete ideas and opinions which
|
||
had obscure and often pernicious tendencies. A new force was to make its
|
||
appearance among the timid and feckless bourgeoisie. This force was
|
||
destined to impede the triumphant advance of the Marxists and bring the
|
||
Chariot of Fate to a standstill just as it seemed about to reach its
|
||
goal.
|
||
|
||
It was evident that this new movement could gain the public significance
|
||
and support which are necessary pre-requisites in such a gigantic
|
||
struggle only if it succeeded from the very outset in awakening a
|
||
sacrosanct conviction in the hearts of its followers, that here it was
|
||
not a case of introducing a new electoral slogan into the political
|
||
field but that an entirely new WELTANSCHAUUNG, which was of a radical
|
||
significance, had to be promoted.
|
||
|
||
One must try to recall the miserable jumble of opinions that used to be
|
||
arrayed side by side to form the usual Party Programme, as it was
|
||
called, and one must remember how these opinions used to be brushed up
|
||
or dressed in a new form from time to time. If we would properly
|
||
understand these programmatic monstrosities we must carefully
|
||
investigate the motives which inspired the average bourgeois 'programme
|
||
committee'.
|
||
|
||
Those people are always influenced by one and the same preoccupation
|
||
when they introduce something new into their programme or modify
|
||
something already contained in it. That preoccupation is directed
|
||
towards the results of the next election. The moment these artists in
|
||
parliamentary government have the first glimmering of a suspicion that
|
||
their darling public may be ready to kick up its heels and escape from
|
||
the harness of the old party wagon they begin to paint the shafts with
|
||
new colours. On such occasions the party astrologists and horoscope
|
||
readers, the so-called 'experienced men' and 'experts', come forward.
|
||
For the most part they are old parliamentary hands whose political
|
||
schooling has furnished them with ample experience. They can remember
|
||
former occasions when the masses showed signs of losing patience and
|
||
they now diagnose the menace of a similar situation arising. Resorting
|
||
to their old prescription, they form a 'committee'. They go around among
|
||
the darling public and listen to what is being said. They dip their
|
||
noses into the newspapers and gradually begin to scent what it is that
|
||
their darlings, the broad masses, are wishing for, what they reject and
|
||
what they are hoping for. The groups that belong to each trade or
|
||
business, and even office employees, are carefully studied and their
|
||
innermost desires are investigated. The 'malicious slogans' of the
|
||
opposition from which danger is threatened are now suddenly looked upon
|
||
as worthy of reconsideration, and it often happens that these slogans,
|
||
to the great astonishment of those who originally coined and circulated
|
||
them, now appear to be quite harmless and indeed are to be found among
|
||
the dogmas of the old parties.
|
||
|
||
So the committees meet to revise the old programme and draw up a new
|
||
one.
|
||
|
||
For these people change their convictions just as the soldier changes
|
||
his shirt in war--when the old one is bug-eaten. In the new programme
|
||
everyone gets everything he wants. The farmer is assured that the
|
||
interests of agriculture will be safeguarded. The industrialist is
|
||
assured of protection for his products. The consumer is assured that his
|
||
interests will be protected in the market prices. Teachers are given
|
||
higher salaries and civil servants will have better pensions. Widows and
|
||
orphans will receive generous assistance from the State. Trade will be
|
||
promoted. The tariff will be lowered and even the taxes, though they
|
||
cannot be entirely abolished, will be almost abolished. It sometimes
|
||
happens that one section of the public is forgotten or that one of the
|
||
demands mooted among the public has not reached the ears of the party.
|
||
This is also hurriedly patched on to the whole, should there be any
|
||
space available for it: until finally it is felt that there are good
|
||
grounds for hoping that the whole normal host of philistines, including
|
||
their wives, will have their anxieties laid to rest and will beam with
|
||
satisfaction once again. And so, internally armed with faith in the
|
||
goodness of God and the impenetrable stupidity of the electorate, the
|
||
struggle for what is called 'the reconstruction of the REICH' can now
|
||
begin.
|
||
|
||
When the election day is over and the parliamentarians have held their
|
||
last public meeting for the next five years, when they can leave their
|
||
job of getting the populace to toe the line and can now devote
|
||
themselves to higher and more pleasing tasks--then the programme
|
||
committee is dissolved and the struggle for the progressive
|
||
reorganization of public affairs becomes once again a business of
|
||
earning one's daily bread, which for the parliamentarians means merely
|
||
the attendance that is required in order to be able to draw their daily
|
||
remunerations. Morning after morning the honourable deputy wends his way
|
||
to the House, and though he may not enter the Chamber itself he gets at
|
||
least as far as the front hall, where he will find the register on which
|
||
the names of the deputies in attendance have to be inscribed. As a part
|
||
of his onerous service to his constituents he enters his name, and in
|
||
return receives a small indemnity as a well-earned reward for his
|
||
unceasing and exhausting labours.
|
||
|
||
When four years have passed, or in the meantime if there should be some
|
||
critical weeks during which the parliamentary corporations have to face
|
||
the danger of being dissolved, these honourable gentlemen become
|
||
suddenly seized by an irresistible desire to act. Just as the grub-worm
|
||
cannot help growing into a cock-chafer, these parliamentarian worms
|
||
leave the great House of Puppets and flutter on new wings out among the
|
||
beloved public. They address the electors once again, give an account of
|
||
the enormous labours they have accomplished and emphasize the malicious
|
||
obstinacy of their opponents. They do not always meet with grateful
|
||
applause; for occasionally the unintelligent masses throw rude and
|
||
unfriendly remarks in their faces. When this spirit of public
|
||
ingratitude reaches a certain pitch there is only one way of saving the
|
||
situation. The prestige of the party must be burnished up again. The
|
||
programme has to be amended. The committee is called into existence once
|
||
again. And the swindle begins anew. Once we understand the impenetrable
|
||
stupidity of our public we cannot be surprised that such tactics turn
|
||
out successful. Led by the Press and blinded once again by the alluring
|
||
appearance of the new programme, the bourgeois as well as the
|
||
proletarian herds of voters faithfully return to the common stall and
|
||
re-elect their old deceivers. The 'people's man' and labour candidate
|
||
now change back again into the parliamentarian grub and become fat and
|
||
rotund as they batten on the leaves that grow on the tree of public
|
||
life--to be retransformed into the glittering butterfly after another
|
||
four years have passed.
|
||
|
||
Scarcely anything else can be so depressing as to watch this process in
|
||
sober reality and to be the eyewitness of this repeatedly recurring
|
||
fraud. On a spiritual training ground of that kind it is not possible
|
||
for the bourgeois forces to develop the strength which is necessary to
|
||
carry on the fight against the organized might of Marxism. Indeed they
|
||
have never seriously thought of doing so. Though these parliamentary
|
||
quacks who represent the white race are generally recognized as persons
|
||
of quite inferior mental capacity, they are shrewd enough to know that
|
||
they could not seriously entertain the hope of being able to use the
|
||
weapon of Western Democracy to fight a doctrine for the advance of which
|
||
Western Democracy, with all its accessories, is employed as a means to
|
||
an end. Democracy is exploited by the Marxists for the purpose of
|
||
paralysing their opponents and gaining for themselves a free hand to put
|
||
their own methods into action. When certain groups of Marxists use all
|
||
their ingenuity for the time being to make it be believed that they are
|
||
inseparably attached to the principles of democracy, it may be well to
|
||
recall the fact that when critical occasions arose these same gentlemen
|
||
snapped their fingers at the principle of decision by majority vote, as
|
||
that principle is understood by Western Democracy. Such was the case in
|
||
those days when the bourgeois parliamentarians, in their monumental
|
||
shortsightedness, believed that the security of the REICH was guaranteed
|
||
because it had an overwhelming numerical majority in its favour, and the
|
||
Marxists did not hesitate suddenly to grasp supreme power in their own
|
||
hands, backed by a mob of loafers, deserters, political place-hunters
|
||
and Jewish dilettanti. That was a blow in the face for that democracy in
|
||
which so many parliamentarians believed. Only those credulous
|
||
parliamentary wizards who represented bourgeois democracy could have
|
||
believed that the brutal determination of those whose interest it is to
|
||
spread the Marxist world-pest, of which they are the carriers, could for
|
||
a moment, now or in the future, be held in check by the magical formulas
|
||
of Western Parliamentarianism. Marxism will march shoulder to shoulder
|
||
with democracy until it succeeds indirectly in securing for its own
|
||
criminal purposes even the support of those whose minds are nationally
|
||
orientated and whom Marxism strives to exterminate. But if the Marxists
|
||
should one day come to believe that there was a danger that from this
|
||
witch's cauldron of our parliamentary democracy a majority vote might be
|
||
concocted, which by reason of its numerical majority would be empowered
|
||
to enact legislation and might use that power seriously to combat
|
||
Marxism, then the whole parliamentarian hocus-pocus would be at an end.
|
||
Instead of appealing to the democratic conscience, the standard bearers
|
||
of the Red International would immediately send forth a furious
|
||
rallying-cry among the proletarian masses and the ensuing fight would
|
||
not take place in the sedate atmosphere of Parliament but in the
|
||
factories and the streets. Then democracy would be annihilated
|
||
forthwith. And what the intellectual prowess of the apostles who
|
||
represented the people in Parliament had failed to accomplish would now
|
||
be successfully carried out by the crow-bar and the sledge-hammer of the
|
||
exasperated proletarian masses--just as in the autumn of 1918. At a blow
|
||
they would awaken the bourgeois world to see the madness of thinking
|
||
that the Jewish drive towards world-conquest can be effectually opposed
|
||
by means of Western Democracy.
|
||
|
||
As I have said, only a very credulous soul could think of binding
|
||
himself to observe the rules of the game when he has to face a player
|
||
for whom those rules are nothing but a mere bluff or a means of serving
|
||
his own interests, which means he will discard them when they prove no
|
||
longer useful for his purpose.
|
||
|
||
All the parties that profess so-called bourgeois principles look upon
|
||
political life as in reality a struggle for seats in Parliament. The
|
||
moment their principles and convictions are of no further use in that
|
||
struggle they are thrown overboard, as if they were sand ballast. And
|
||
the programmes are constructed in such a way that they can be dealt with
|
||
in like manner. But such practice has a correspondingly weakening effect
|
||
on the strength of those parties. They lack the great magnetic force
|
||
which alone attracts the broad masses; for these masses always respond
|
||
to the compelling force which emanates from absolute faith in the ideas
|
||
put forward, combined with an indomitable zest to fight for and defend
|
||
them.
|
||
|
||
At a time in which the one side, armed with all the fighting power that
|
||
springs from a systematic conception of life--even though it be criminal
|
||
in a thousand ways--makes an attack against the established order the
|
||
other side will be able to resist when it draws its strength from a new
|
||
faith, which in our case is a political faith. This faith must supersede
|
||
the weak and cowardly command to defend. In its stead we must raise the
|
||
battle-cry of a courageous and ruthless attack. Our present movement is
|
||
accused, especially by the so-called national bourgeois cabinet
|
||
ministers--the Bavarian representatives of the Centre, for example--of
|
||
heading towards a revolution. We have one answer to give to those
|
||
political pigmies. We say to them: We are trying to make up for that
|
||
which you, in your criminal stupidity, have failed to carry out. By your
|
||
parliamentarian jobbing you have helped to drag the nation into ruin.
|
||
But we, by our aggressive policy, are setting up a new WELTANSCHAUUNG
|
||
which we shall defend with indomitable devotion. Thus we are building
|
||
the steps on which our nation once again may ascend to the temple of
|
||
freedom.
|
||
|
||
And so during the first stages of founding our movement we had to take
|
||
special care that our militant group which fought for the establishment
|
||
of a new and exalted political faith should not degenerate into a
|
||
society for the promotion of parliamentarian interests.
|
||
|
||
The first preventive measure was to lay down a programme which of itself
|
||
would tend towards developing a certain moral greatness that would scare
|
||
away all the petty and weakling spirits who make up the bulk of our
|
||
present party politicians.
|
||
|
||
Those fatal defects which finally led to Germany's downfall afford the
|
||
clearest proof of how right we were in considering it absolutely
|
||
necessary to set up programmatic aims which were sharply and distinctly
|
||
defined.
|
||
|
||
Because we recognized the defects above mentioned, we realized that a
|
||
new conception of the State had to be formed, which in itself became a
|
||
part of our new conception of life in general.
|
||
|
||
In the first volume of this book I have already dealt with the term
|
||
V<EFBFBD>LKISCH, and I said then that this term has not a sufficiently precise
|
||
meaning to furnish the kernel around which a closely consolidated
|
||
militant community could be formed. All kinds of people, with all kinds
|
||
of divergent opinions, are parading about at the present moment under
|
||
the device V<>LKISCH on their banners. Before I come to deal with the
|
||
purposes and aims of the National Socialist Labour Party I want to
|
||
establish a clear understanding of what is meant by the concept V<>LKISCH
|
||
and herewith explain its relation to our party movement. The word
|
||
V<EFBFBD>LKISCH does not express any clearly specified idea. It may be
|
||
interpreted in several ways and in practical application it is just as
|
||
general as the word 'religious', for instance. It is difficult to attach
|
||
any precise meaning to this latter word, either as a theoretical concept
|
||
or as a guiding principle in practical life. The word 'religious'
|
||
acquires a precise meaning only when it is associated with a distinct
|
||
and definite form through which the concept is put into practice. To say
|
||
that a person is 'deeply religious' may be very fine phraseology; but,
|
||
generally speaking, it tells us little or nothing. There may be some few
|
||
people who are content with such a vague description and there may even
|
||
be some to whom the word conveys a more or less definite picture of the
|
||
inner quality of a person thus described. But, since the masses of the
|
||
people are not composed of philosophers or saints, such a vague
|
||
religious idea will mean for them nothing else than to justify each
|
||
individual in thinking and acting according to his own bent. It will not
|
||
lead to that practical faith into which the inner religious yearning is
|
||
transformed only when it leaves the sphere of general metaphysical ideas
|
||
and is moulded to a definite dogmatic belief. Such a belief is certainly
|
||
not an end in itself, but the means to an end. Yet it is a means without
|
||
which the end could never be reached at all. This end, however, is not
|
||
merely something ideal; for at the bottom it is eminently practical. We
|
||
must always bear in mind the fact that, generally speaking, the highest
|
||
ideals are always the outcome of some profound vital need, just as the
|
||
most sublime beauty owes its nobility of shape, in the last analysis, to
|
||
the fact that the most beautiful form is the form that is best suited to
|
||
the purpose it is meant to serve.
|
||
|
||
By helping to lift the human being above the level of mere animal
|
||
existence, Faith really contributes to consolidate and safeguard its own
|
||
existence. Taking humanity as it exists to-day and taking into
|
||
consideration the fact that the religious beliefs which it generally
|
||
holds and which have been consolidated through our education, so that
|
||
they serve as moral standards in practical life, if we should now
|
||
abolish religious teaching and not replace it by anything of equal value
|
||
the result would be that the foundations of human existence would be
|
||
seriously shaken. We may safely say that man does not live merely to
|
||
serve higher ideals, but that these ideals, in their turn, furnish the
|
||
necessary conditions of his existence as a human being. And thus the
|
||
circle is closed.
|
||
|
||
Of course, the word 'religious' implies some ideas and beliefs that are
|
||
fundamental. Among these we may reckon the belief in the immortality of
|
||
the soul, its future existence in eternity, the belief in the existence
|
||
of a Higher Being, and so on. But all these ideas, no matter how firmly
|
||
the individual believes in them, may be critically analysed by any
|
||
person and accepted or rejected accordingly, until the emotional concept
|
||
or yearning has been transformed into an active service that is governed
|
||
by a clearly defined doctrinal faith. Such a faith furnishes the
|
||
practical outlet for religious feeling to express itself and thus opens
|
||
the way through which it can be put into practice.
|
||
|
||
Without a clearly defined belief, the religious feeling would not only
|
||
be worthless for the purposes of human existence but even might
|
||
contribute towards a general disorganization, on account of its vague
|
||
and multifarious tendencies.
|
||
|
||
What I have said about the word 'religious' can also be applied to the
|
||
term V<>LKISCH. This word also implies certain fundamental ideas. Though
|
||
these ideas are very important indeed, they assume such vague and
|
||
indefinite forms that they cannot be estimated as having a greater value
|
||
than mere opinions, until they become constituent elements in the
|
||
structure of a political party. For in order to give practical force to
|
||
the ideals that grow out of a WELTANSCHAUUNG and to answer the demands
|
||
which are a logical consequence of such ideals, mere sentiment and inner
|
||
longing are of no practical assistance, just as freedom cannot be won by
|
||
a universal yearning for it. No. Only when the idealistic longing for
|
||
independence is organized in such a way that it can fight for its ideal
|
||
with military force, only then can the urgent wish of a people be
|
||
transformed into a potent reality.
|
||
|
||
Any WELTANSCHAUUNG, though a thousandfold right and supremely
|
||
beneficial to humanity, will be of no practical service for the
|
||
maintenance of a people as long as its principles have not yet become
|
||
the rallying point of a militant movement. And, on its own side, this
|
||
movement will remain a mere party until is has brought its ideals to
|
||
victory and transformed its party doctrines into the new foundations of
|
||
a State which gives the national community its final shape.
|
||
|
||
If an abstract conception of a general nature is to serve as the basis
|
||
of a future development, then the first prerequisite is to form a clear
|
||
understanding of the nature and character and scope of this conception.
|
||
For only on such a basis can a movement he founded which will be able to
|
||
draw the necessary fighting strength from the internal cohesion of its
|
||
principles and convictions. From general ideas a political programme
|
||
must be constructed and a general WELTANSCHAUUNG must receive the stamp
|
||
of a definite political faith. Since this faith must be directed towards
|
||
ends that have to be attained in the world of practical reality, not
|
||
only must it serve the general ideal as such but it must also take into
|
||
consideration the means that have to be employed for the triumph of the
|
||
ideal. Here the practical wisdom of the statesman must come to the
|
||
assistance of the abstract idea, which is correct in itself. In that way
|
||
an eternal ideal, which has everlasting significance as a guiding star
|
||
to mankind, must be adapted to the exigencies of human frailty so that
|
||
its practical effect may not be frustrated at the very outset through
|
||
those shortcomings which are general to mankind. The exponent of truth
|
||
must here go hand in hand with him who has a practical knowledge of the
|
||
soul of the people, so that from the realm of eternal verities and
|
||
ideals what is suited to the capacities of human nature may be selected
|
||
and given practical form. To take abstract and general principles,
|
||
derived from a WELTANSCHAUUNG which is based on a solid foundation of
|
||
truth, and transform them into a militant community whose members have
|
||
the same political faith--a community which is precisely defined,
|
||
rigidly organized, of one mind and one will--such a transformation is
|
||
the most important task of all; for the possibility of successfully
|
||
carrying out the idea is dependent on the successful fulfilment of that
|
||
task. Out of the army of millions who feel the truth of these ideas, and
|
||
even may understand them to some extent, one man must arise. This man
|
||
must have the gift of being able to expound general ideas in a clear and
|
||
definite form, and, from the world of vague ideas shimmering before the
|
||
minds of the masses, he must formulate principles that will be as
|
||
clear-cut and firm as granite. He must fight for these principles as the
|
||
only true ones, until a solid rock of common faith and common will
|
||
emerges above the troubled waves of vagrant ideas. The general
|
||
justification of such action is to be sought in the necessity for it and
|
||
the individual will be justified by his success.
|
||
|
||
If we try to penetrate to the inner meaning of the word V<>LKISCH we
|
||
arrive at the following conclusions:
|
||
|
||
The current political conception of the world is that the State, though
|
||
it possesses a creative force which can build up civilizations, has
|
||
nothing in common with the concept of race as the foundation of the
|
||
State. The State is considered rather as something which has resulted
|
||
from economic necessity, or, at best, the natural outcome of the play of
|
||
political forces and impulses. Such a conception of the foundations of
|
||
the State, together with all its logical consequences, not only ignores
|
||
the primordial racial forces that underlie the State, but it also leads
|
||
to a policy in which the importance of the individual is minimized. If
|
||
it be denied that races differ from one another in their powers of
|
||
cultural creativeness, then this same erroneous notion must necessarily
|
||
influence our estimation of the value of the individual. The assumption
|
||
that all races are alike leads to the assumption that nations and
|
||
individuals are equal to one another. And international Marxism is
|
||
nothing but the application--effected by the Jew, Karl Marx--of a
|
||
general conception of life to a definite profession of political faith;
|
||
but in reality that general concept had existed long before the time of
|
||
Karl Marx. If it had not already existed as a widely diffused infection
|
||
the amazing political progress of the Marxist teaching would never have
|
||
been possible. In reality what distinguished Karl Marx from the millions
|
||
who were affected in the same way was that, in a world already in a
|
||
state of gradual decomposition, he used his keen powers of prognosis to
|
||
detect the essential poisons, so as to extract them and concentrate
|
||
them, with the art of a necromancer, in a solution which would bring
|
||
about the rapid destruction of the independent nations on the globe. But
|
||
all this was done in the service of his race.
|
||
|
||
Thus the Marxist doctrine is the concentrated extract of the mentality
|
||
which underlies the general concept of life to-day. For this reason
|
||
alone it is out of the question and even ridiculous to think that what
|
||
is called our bourgeois world can put up any effective fight against
|
||
Marxism. For this bourgeois world is permeated with all those same
|
||
poisons and its conception of life in general differs from Marxism only
|
||
in degree and in the character of the persons who hold it. The bourgeois
|
||
world is Marxist but believes in the possibility of a certain group of
|
||
people--that is to say, the bourgeoisie--being able to dominate the
|
||
world, while Marxism itself systematically aims at delivering the world
|
||
into the hands of the Jews.
|
||
|
||
Over against all this, the V<>LKISCH concept of the world recognizes that
|
||
the primordial racial elements are of the greatest significance for
|
||
mankind. In principle, the State is looked upon only as a means to an
|
||
end and this end is the conservation of the racial characteristics of
|
||
mankind. Therefore on the V<>LKISCH principle we cannot admit that one
|
||
race is equal to another. By recognizing that they are different, the
|
||
V<EFBFBD>LKISCH concept separates mankind into races of superior and inferior
|
||
quality. On the basis of this recognition it feels bound in conformity
|
||
with the eternal Will that dominates the universe, to postulate the
|
||
victory of the better and stronger and the subordination of the inferior
|
||
and weaker. And so it pays homage to the truth that the principle
|
||
underlying all Nature's operations is the aristocratic principle and it
|
||
believes that this law holds good even down to the last individual
|
||
organism. It selects individual values from the mass and thus operates
|
||
as an organizing principle, whereas Marxism acts as a disintegrating
|
||
solvent. The V<>LKISCH belief holds that humanity must have its ideals,
|
||
because ideals are a necessary condition of human existence itself. But,
|
||
on the other hand, it denies that an ethical ideal has the right to
|
||
prevail if it endangers the existence of a race that is the
|
||
standard-bearer of a higher ethical ideal. For in a world which would be
|
||
composed of mongrels and negroids all ideals of human beauty and
|
||
nobility and all hopes of an idealized future for our humanity would be
|
||
lost forever.
|
||
|
||
On this planet of ours human culture and civilization are indissolubly
|
||
bound up with the presence of the Aryan. If he should be exterminated or
|
||
subjugated, then the dark shroud of a new barbarian era would enfold the
|
||
earth.
|
||
|
||
To undermine the existence of human culture by exterminating its
|
||
founders and custodians would be an execrable crime in the eyes of those
|
||
who believe that the folk-idea lies at the basis of human existence.
|
||
Whoever would dare to raise a profane hand against that highest image of
|
||
God among His creatures would sin against the bountiful Creator of this
|
||
marvel and would collaborate in the expulsion from Paradise.
|
||
|
||
Hence the folk concept of the world is in profound accord with Nature's
|
||
will; because it restores the free play of the forces which will lead
|
||
the race through stages of sustained reciprocal education towards a
|
||
higher type, until finally the best portion of mankind will possess the
|
||
earth and will be free to work in every domain all over the world and
|
||
even reach spheres that lie outside the earth.
|
||
|
||
We all feel that in the distant future many may be faced with problems
|
||
which can be solved only by a superior race of human beings, a race
|
||
destined to become master of all the other peoples and which will have
|
||
at its disposal the means and resources of the whole world.
|
||
|
||
It is evident that such a general sketch of the ideas implied in the
|
||
folk concept of the world may easily be interpreted in a thousand
|
||
different ways. As a matter of fact there is scarcely one of our recent
|
||
political movements that does not refer at some point to this conception
|
||
of the world. But the fact that this conception of the world still
|
||
maintains its independent existence in face of all the others proves
|
||
that their ways of looking at life are quite difierent from this. Thus
|
||
the Marxist conception, directed by a central organization endowed with
|
||
supreme authority, is opposed by a motley crew of opinions which is not
|
||
very impressive in face of the solid phalanx presented by the enemy.
|
||
Victory cannot be achieved with such weak weapons. Only when the
|
||
international idea, politically organized by Marxism, is confronted by
|
||
the folk idea, equally well organized in a systematic way and equally
|
||
well led--only then will the fighting energy in the one camp be able to
|
||
meet that of the other on an equal footing; and victory will be found on
|
||
the side of eternal truth.
|
||
|
||
But a general conception of life can never be given an organic
|
||
embodiment until it is precisely and definitely formulated. The function
|
||
which dogma fulfils in religious belief is parallel to the function
|
||
which party principles fulfil for a political party which is in the
|
||
process of being built up. Therefore, for the conception of life that is
|
||
based on the folk idea it is necessary that an instrument be forged
|
||
which can be used in fighting for this ideal, similar to the Marxist
|
||
party organization which clears the way for internationalism.
|
||
|
||
And this is the aim which the German National Socialist Labour Movement
|
||
pursues.
|
||
|
||
The folk conception must therefore be definitely formulated so that it
|
||
may be organically incorporated in the party. That is a necessary
|
||
prerequisite for the success of this idea. And that it is so is very
|
||
clearly proved even by the indirect acknowledgment of those who oppose
|
||
such an amalgamation of the folk idea with party principles. The very
|
||
people who never tire of insisting again and again that the conception
|
||
of life based on the folk idea can never be the exclusive property of a
|
||
single group, because it lies dormant or 'lives' in myriads of hearts,
|
||
only confirm by their own statements the simple fact that the general
|
||
presence of such ideas in the hearts of millions of men has not proved
|
||
sufficient to impede the victory of the opposing ideas, which are
|
||
championed by a political party organized on the principle of class
|
||
conflict. If that were not so, the German people ought already to have
|
||
gained a gigantic victory instead of finding themselves on the brink of
|
||
the abyss. The international ideology achieved success because it was
|
||
organized in a militant political party which was always ready to take
|
||
the offensive. If hitherto the ideas opposed to the international
|
||
concept have had to give way before the latter the reason is that they
|
||
lacked a united front to fight for their cause. A doctrine which forms a
|
||
definite outlook on life cannot struggle and triumph by allowing the
|
||
right of free interpretation of its general teaching, but only by
|
||
defining that teaching in certain articles of faith that have to be
|
||
accepted and incorporating it in a political organization.
|
||
|
||
Therefore I considered it my special duty to extract from the extensive
|
||
but vague contents of a general WELTANSCHAUUNG the ideas which were
|
||
essential and give them a more or less dogmatic form. Because of their
|
||
precise and clear meaning, these ideas are suited to the purpose of
|
||
uniting in a common front all those who are ready to accept them as
|
||
principles. In other words: The German National Socialist Labour Party
|
||
extracts the essential principles from the general conception of the
|
||
world which is based on the folk idea. On these principles it
|
||
establishes a political doctrine which takes into account the practical
|
||
realities of the day, the nature of the times, the available human
|
||
material and all its deficiencies. Through this political doctrine it is
|
||
possible to bring great masses of the people into an organization which
|
||
is constructed as rigidly as it could be. Such an organization is the
|
||
main preliminary that is necessary for the final triumph of this ideal.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
CHAPTER II
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
THE STATE
|
||
|
||
|
||
Already in 1920-1921 certain circles belonging to the effete bourgeois
|
||
class accused our movement again and again of taking up a negative
|
||
attitude towards the modern State. For that reason the motley gang of
|
||
camp followers attached to the various political parties, representing a
|
||
heterogeneous conglomeration of political views, assumed the right of
|
||
utilizing all available means to suppress the protagonists of this young
|
||
movement which was preaching a new political gospel. Our opponents
|
||
deliberately ignored the fact that the bourgeois class itself stood for
|
||
no uniform opinion as to what the State really meant and that the
|
||
bourgeoisie did not and could not give any coherent definition of this
|
||
institution. Those whose duty it is to explain what is meant when we
|
||
speak of the State, hold chairs in State universities, often in the
|
||
department of constitutional law, and consider it their highest duty to
|
||
find explanations and justifications for the more or less fortunate
|
||
existence of that particular form of State which provides them with
|
||
their daily bread. The more absurd such a form of State is the more
|
||
obscure and artificial and incomprehensible are the definitions which
|
||
are advanced to explain the purpose of its existence. What, for
|
||
instance, could a royal and imperial university professor write about
|
||
the meaning and purpose of a State in a country whose statal form
|
||
represented the greatest monstrosity of the twentieth century? That
|
||
would be a difficult undertaking indeed, in view of the fact that the
|
||
contemporary professor of constitutional law is obliged not so much to
|
||
serve the cause of truth but rather to serve a certain definite purpose.
|
||
And this purpose is to defend at all costs the existence of that
|
||
monstrous human mechanism which we now call the State. Nobody can be
|
||
surprised if concrete facts are evaded as far as possible when the
|
||
problem of the State is under discussion and if professors adopt the
|
||
tactics of concealing themselves in morass of abstract values and duties
|
||
and purposes which are described as 'ethical' and 'moral'.
|
||
|
||
Generally speaking, these various theorists may be classed in three
|
||
groups:
|
||
|
||
1. Those who hold that the State is a more or less voluntary association
|
||
of men who have agreed to set up and obey a ruling authority.
|
||
|
||
This is numerically the largest group. In its ranks are to be found
|
||
those who worship our present principle of legalized authority. In their
|
||
eyes the will of the people has no part whatever in the whole affair.
|
||
For them the fact that the State exists is sufficient reason to consider
|
||
it sacred and inviolable. To accept this aberration of the human brain
|
||
one would have to have a sort of canine adoration for what is called the
|
||
authority of the State. In the minds of these people the means is
|
||
substituted for the end, by a sort of sleight-of-hand movement. The
|
||
State no longer exists for the purpose of serving men but men exist for
|
||
the purpose of adoring the authority of the State, which is vested in
|
||
its functionaries, even down to the smallest official. So as to prevent
|
||
this placid and ecstatic adoration from changing into something that
|
||
might become in any way disturbing, the authority of the State is
|
||
limited simply to the task of preserving order and tranquillity.
|
||
Therewith it is no longer either a means or an end. The State must see
|
||
that public peace and order are preserved and, in their turn, order and
|
||
peace must make the existence of the State possible. All life must move
|
||
between these two poles. In Bavaria this view is upheld by the artful
|
||
politicians of the Bavarian Centre, which is called the 'Bavarian
|
||
Populist Party'. In Austria the Black-and-Yellow legitimists adopt a
|
||
similar attitude. In the REICH, unfortunately, the so-called
|
||
conservative elements follow the same line of thought.
|
||
|
||
2. The second group is somewhat smaller in numbers. It includes those
|
||
who would make the existence of the State dependent on some conditions
|
||
at least. They insist that not only should there be a uniform system of
|
||
government but also, if possible, that only one language should be used,
|
||
though solely for technical reasons of administration. In this view the
|
||
authority of the State is no longer the sole and exclusive end for which
|
||
the State exists. It must also promote the good of its subjects. Ideas
|
||
of 'freedom', mostly based on a misunderstanding of the meaning of that
|
||
word, enter into the concept of the State as it exists in the minds of
|
||
this group. The form of government is no longer considered inviolable
|
||
simply because it exists. It must submit to the test of practical
|
||
efficiency. Its venerable age no longer protects it from being
|
||
criticized in the light of modern exigencies. Moreover, in this view the
|
||
first duty laid upon the State is to guarantee the economic well-being
|
||
of the individual citizens. Hence it is judged from the practical
|
||
standpoint and according to general principles based on the idea of
|
||
economic returns. The chief representatives of this theory of the State
|
||
are to be found among the average German bourgeoisie, especially our
|
||
liberal democrats.
|
||
|
||
3. The third group is numerically the smallest. In the State they
|
||
discover a means for the realization of tendencies that arise from a
|
||
policy of power, on the part of a people who are ethnically homogeneous
|
||
and speak the same language. But those who hold this view are not clear
|
||
about what they mean by 'tendencies arising from a policy of power'. A
|
||
common language is postulated not only because they hope that thereby
|
||
the State would be furnished with a solid basis for the extension of its
|
||
power outside its own frontiers, but also because they think--though
|
||
falling into a fundamental error by doing so--that such a common
|
||
language would enable them to carry out a process of nationalization in
|
||
a definite direction.
|
||
|
||
During the last century it was lamentable for those who had to witness
|
||
it, to notice how in these circles I have just mentioned the word
|
||
'Germanization' was frivolously played with, though the practice was
|
||
often well intended. I well remember how in the days of my youth this
|
||
very term used to give rise to notions which were false to an incredible
|
||
degree. Even in Pan-German circles one heard the opinion expressed that
|
||
the Austrian Germans might very well succeed in Germanizing the Austrian
|
||
Slavs, if only the Government would be ready to co-operate. Those people
|
||
did not understand that a policy of Germanization can be carried out
|
||
only as regards human beings. What they mostly meant by Germanization
|
||
was a process of forcing other people to speak the German language. But
|
||
it is almost inconceivable how such a mistake could be made as to think
|
||
that a Nigger or a Chinaman will become a German because he has learned
|
||
the German language and is willing to speak German for the future, and
|
||
even to cast his vote for a German political party. Our bourgeois
|
||
nationalists could never clearly see that such a process of
|
||
Germanization is in reality de-Germanization; for even if all the
|
||
outstanding and visible differences between the various peoples could be
|
||
bridged over and finally wiped out by the use of a common language, that
|
||
would produce a process of bastardization which in this case would not
|
||
signify Germanization but the annihilation of the German element. In the
|
||
course of history it has happened only too often that a conquering race
|
||
succeeded by external force in compelling the people whom they subjected
|
||
to speak the tongue of the conqueror and that after a thousand years
|
||
their language was spoken by another people and that thus the conqueror
|
||
finally turned out to be the conquered.
|
||
|
||
What makes a people or, to be more correct, a race, is not language but
|
||
blood. Therefore it would be justifiable to speak of Germanization only
|
||
if that process could change the blood of the people who would be
|
||
subjected to it, which is obviously impossible. A change would be
|
||
possible only by a mixture of blood, but in this case the quality of the
|
||
superior race would be debased. The final result of such a mixture would
|
||
be that precisely those qualities would be destroyed which had enabled
|
||
the conquering race to achieve victory over an inferior people. It is
|
||
especially the cultural creativeness which disappears when a superior
|
||
race intermixes with an inferior one, even though the resultant mongrel
|
||
race should excel a thousandfold in speaking the language of the race
|
||
that once had been superior. For a certain time there will be a conflict
|
||
between the different mentalities, and it may be that a nation which is
|
||
in a state of progressive degeneration will at the last moment rally its
|
||
cultural creative power and once again produce striking examples of that
|
||
power. But these results are due only to the activity of elements that
|
||
have remained over from the superior race or hybrids of the first
|
||
crossing in whom the superior blood has remained dominant and seeks to
|
||
assert itself. But this will never happen with the final descendants of
|
||
such hybrids. These are always in a state of cultural retrogression.
|
||
|
||
We must consider it as fortunate that a Germanization of Austria
|
||
according to the plan of Joseph II did not succeed. Probably the result
|
||
would have been that the Austrian State would have been able to survive,
|
||
but at the same time participation in the use of a common language would
|
||
have debased the racial quality of the German element. In the course of
|
||
centuries a certain herd instinct might have been developed but the herd
|
||
itself would have deteriorated in quality. A national State might have
|
||
arisen, but a people who had been culturally creative would have
|
||
disappeared.
|
||
|
||
For the German nation it was better that this process of intermixture
|
||
did not take place, although it was not renounced for any high-minded
|
||
reasons but simply through the short-sighted pettiness of the Habsburgs.
|
||
If it had taken place the German people could not now be looked upon as
|
||
a cultural factor.
|
||
|
||
Not only in Austria, however, but also in the REICH, these so-called
|
||
national circles were, and still are, under the influence of similar
|
||
erroneous ideas. Unfortunately, a policy towards Poland, whereby the
|
||
East was to be Germanized, was demanded by many and was based on the
|
||
same false reasoning. Here again it was believed that the Polish people
|
||
could be Germanized by being compelled to use the German language. The
|
||
result would have been fatal. A people of foreign race would have had to
|
||
use the German language to express modes of thought that were foreign to
|
||
the German, thus compromising by its own inferiority the dignity and
|
||
nobility of our nation.
|
||
|
||
It is revolting to think how much damage is indirectly done to German
|
||
prestige to-day through the fact that the German patois of the Jews when
|
||
they enter the United States enables them to be classed as Germans,
|
||
because many Americans are quite ignorant of German conditions. Among
|
||
us, nobody would think of taking these unhygienic immigrants from the
|
||
East for members of the German race and nation merely because they
|
||
mostly speak German.
|
||
|
||
What has been beneficially Germanized in the course of history was the
|
||
land which our ancestors conquered with the sword and colonized with
|
||
German tillers of the soil. To the extent that they introduced foreign
|
||
blood into our national body in this colonization, they have helped to
|
||
disintegrate our racial character, a process which has resulted in our
|
||
German hyper-individualism, though this latter characteristic is even
|
||
now frequently praised.
|
||
|
||
In this third group also there are people who, to a certain degree,
|
||
consider the State as an end in itself. Hence they consider its
|
||
preservation as one of the highest aims of human existence. Our analysis
|
||
may be summed up as follows:
|
||
|
||
All these opinions have this common feature and failing: that they are
|
||
not grounded in a recognition of the profound truth that the capacity
|
||
for creating cultural values is essentially based on the racial element
|
||
and that, in accordance with this fact, the paramount purpose of the
|
||
State is to preserve and improve the race; for this is an indispensable
|
||
condition of all progress in human civilization.
|
||
|
||
Thus the Jew, Karl Marx, was able to draw the final conclusions from
|
||
these false concepts and ideas on the nature and purpose of the State.
|
||
By eliminating from the concept of the State all thought of the
|
||
obligation which the State bears towards the race, without finding any
|
||
other formula that might be universally accepted, the bourgeois teaching
|
||
prepared the way for that doctrine which rejects the State as such.
|
||
|
||
That is why the bourgeois struggle against Marxist internationalism is
|
||
absolutely doomed to fail in this field. The bourgeois classes have
|
||
already sacrificed the basic principles which alone could furnish a
|
||
solid footing for their ideas. Their crafty opponent has perceived the
|
||
defects in their structure and advances to the assault on it with those
|
||
weapons which they themselves have placed in his hands though not
|
||
meaning to do so.
|
||
|
||
Therefore any new movement which is based on the racial concept of the
|
||
world will first of all have to put forward a clear and logical doctrine
|
||
of the nature and purpose of the State.
|
||
|
||
The fundamental principle is that the State is not an end in itself but
|
||
the means to an end. It is the preliminary condition under which alone a
|
||
higher form of human civilization can be developed, but it is not the
|
||
source of such a development. This is to be sought exclusively in the
|
||
actual existence of a race which is endowed with the gift of cultural
|
||
creativeness. There may be hundreds of excellent States on this earth,
|
||
and yet if the Aryan, who is the creator and custodian of civilization,
|
||
should disappear, all culture that is on an adequate level with the
|
||
spiritual needs of the superior nations to-day would also disappear. We
|
||
may go still further and say that the fact that States have been created
|
||
by human beings does not in the least exclude the possiblity that the
|
||
human race may become extinct, because the superior intellectual
|
||
faculties and powers of adaptation would be lost when the racial bearer
|
||
of these faculties and powers disappeared.
|
||
|
||
If, for instance, the surface of the globe should be shaken to-day by
|
||
some seismic convulsion and if a new Himalaya would emerge from the
|
||
waves of the sea, this one catastrophe alone might annihilate human
|
||
civilization. No State could exist any longer. All order would be
|
||
shattered. And all vestiges of cultural products which had been evolved
|
||
through thousands of years would disappear. Nothing would be left but
|
||
one tremendous field of death and destruction submerged in floods of
|
||
water and mud. If, however, just a few people would survive this
|
||
terrible havoc, and if these people belonged to a definite race that had
|
||
the innate powers to build up a civilization, when the commotion had
|
||
passed, the earth would again bear witness to the creative power of the
|
||
human spirit, even though a span of a thousand years might intervene.
|
||
Only with the extermination of the last race that possesses the gift of
|
||
cultural creativeness, and indeed only if all the individuals of that
|
||
race had disappeared, would the earth definitely be turned into a
|
||
desert. On the other hand, modern history furnishes examples to show
|
||
that statal institutions which owe their beginnings to members of a race
|
||
which lacks creative genius are not made of stuff that will endure. Just
|
||
as many varieties of prehistoric animals had to give way to others and
|
||
leave no trace behind them, so man will also have to give way, if he
|
||
loses that definite faculty which enables him to find the weapons that
|
||
are necessary for him to maintain his own existence.
|
||
|
||
It is not the State as such that brings about a certain definite advance
|
||
in cultural progress. The State can only protect the race that is the
|
||
cause of such progress. The State as such may well exist without
|
||
undergoing any change for hundreds of years, though the cultural
|
||
faculties and the general life of the people, which is shaped by these
|
||
faculties, may have suffered profound changes by reason of the fact that
|
||
the State did not prevent a process of racial mixture from taking place.
|
||
The present State, for instance, may continue to exist in a mere
|
||
mechanical form, but the poison of miscegenation permeating the national
|
||
body brings about a cultural decadence which manifests itself already in
|
||
various symptoms that are of a detrimental character.
|
||
|
||
Thus the indispensable prerequisite for the existence of a superior
|
||
quality of human beings is not the State but the race, which is alone
|
||
capable of producing that higher human quality.
|
||
|
||
This capacity is always there, though it will lie dormant unless
|
||
external circumstances awaken it to action. Nations, or rather races,
|
||
which are endowed with the faculty of cultural creativeness possess this
|
||
faculty in a latent form during periods when the external circumstances
|
||
are unfavourable for the time being and therefore do not allow the
|
||
faculty to express itself effectively. It is therefore outrageously
|
||
unjust to speak of the pre-Christian Germans as barbarians who had no
|
||
civilization. They never have been such. But the severity of the climate
|
||
that prevailed in the northern regions which they inhabited imposed
|
||
conditions of life which hampered a free development of their creative
|
||
faculties. If they had come to the fairer climate of the South, with no
|
||
previous culture whatsoever, and if they acquired the necessary human
|
||
material--that is to say, men of an inferior race--to serve them as
|
||
working implements, the cultural faculty dormant in them would have
|
||
splendidly blossomed forth, as happened in the case of the Greeks, for
|
||
example. But this primordial creative faculty in cultural things was not
|
||
solely due to their northern climate. For the Laplanders or the Eskimos
|
||
would not have become creators of a culture if they were transplanted to
|
||
the South. No, this wonderful creative faculty is a special gift
|
||
bestowed on the Aryan, whether it lies dormant in him or becomes active,
|
||
according as the adverse conditions of nature prevent the active
|
||
expression of that faculty or favourable circumstances permit it.
|
||
|
||
From these facts the following conclusions may be drawn:
|
||
|
||
The State is only a means to an end. Its end and its purpose is to
|
||
preserve and promote a community of human beings who are physically as
|
||
well as spiritually kindred. Above all, it must preserve the existence
|
||
of the race, thereby providing the indispensable condition for the free
|
||
development of all the forces dormant in this race. A great part of
|
||
these faculties will always have to be employed in the first place to
|
||
maintain the physical existence of the race, and only a small portion
|
||
will be free to work in the field of intellectual progress. But, as a
|
||
matter of fact, the one is always the necessary counterpart of the
|
||
other.
|
||
|
||
Those States which do not serve this purpose have no justification for
|
||
their existence. They are monstrosities. The fact that they do exist is
|
||
no more of a justification than the successful raids carried out by a
|
||
band of pirates can be considered a justification of piracy.
|
||
|
||
We National Socialists, who are fighting for a new WELTANSCHAUUNG, must
|
||
never take our stand on the famous 'basis of facts', and especially not
|
||
on mistaken facts. If we did so, we should cease to be the protagonists
|
||
of a new and great idea and would become slaves in the service of the
|
||
fallacy which is dominant to-day. We must make a clear-cut distinction
|
||
between the vessel and its contents. The State is only the vessel and
|
||
the race is what it contains. The vessel can have a meaning only if it
|
||
preserves and safeguards the contents. Otherwise it is worthless.
|
||
|
||
Hence the supreme purpose of the ethnical State is to guard and preserve
|
||
those racial elements which, through their work in the cultural field,
|
||
create that beauty and dignity which are characteristic of a higher
|
||
mankind. As Aryans, we can consider the State only as the living
|
||
organism of a people, an organism which does not merely maintain the
|
||
existence of a people, but functions in such a way as to lead its people
|
||
to a position of supreme liberty by the progressive development of the
|
||
intellectual and cultural faculties.
|
||
|
||
What they want to impose upon us as a State to-day is in most cases
|
||
nothing but a monstrosity, the product of a profound human aberration
|
||
which brings untold suffering in its train.
|
||
|
||
We National Socialists know that in holding these views we take up a
|
||
revolutionary stand in the world of to-day and that we are branded as
|
||
revolutionaries. But our views and our conduct will not be determined by
|
||
the approbation or disapprobation of our contemporaries, but only by our
|
||
duty to follow a truth which we have acknowledged. In doing this we have
|
||
reason to believe that posterity will have a clearer insight, and will
|
||
not only understand the work we are doing to-day, but will also ratify
|
||
it as the right work and will exalt it accordingly.
|
||
|
||
On these principles we National Socialists base our standards of value
|
||
in appraising a State. This value will be relative when viewed from the
|
||
particular standpoint of the individual nation, but it will be absolute
|
||
when considered from the standpoint of humanity as a whole. In other
|
||
words, this means:
|
||
|
||
That the excellence of a State can never be judged by the level of its
|
||
culture or the degree of importance which the outside world attaches to
|
||
its power, but that its excellence must be judged by the degree to which
|
||
its institutions serve the racial stock which belongs to it.
|
||
|
||
A State may be considered as a model example if it adequately serves not
|
||
only the vital needs of the racial stock it represents but if it
|
||
actually assures by its own existence the preservation of this same
|
||
racial stock, no matter what general cultural significance this statal
|
||
institution may have in the eyes of the rest of the world. For it is not
|
||
the task of the State to create human capabilities, but only to assure
|
||
free scope for the exercise of capabilities that already exist. On the
|
||
other hand, a State may be called bad if, in spite of the existence of a
|
||
high cultural level, it dooms to destruction the bearers of that culture
|
||
by breaking up their racial uniformity. For the practical effect of such
|
||
a policy would be to destroy those conditions that are indispensable for
|
||
the ulterior existence of that culture, which the State did not create
|
||
but which is the fruit of the creative power inherent in the racial
|
||
stock whose existence is assured by being united in the living organism
|
||
of the State. Once again let me emphasize the fact that the State itself
|
||
is not the substance but the form. Therefore, the cultural level is not
|
||
the standard by which we can judge the value of the State in which that
|
||
people lives. It is evident that a people which is endowed with high
|
||
creative powers in the cultural sphere is of more worth than a tribe of
|
||
negroes. And yet the statal organization of the former, if judged from
|
||
the standpoint of efficiency, may be worse than that of the negroes. Not
|
||
even the best of States and statal institutions can evolve faculties
|
||
from a people which they lack and which they never possessed, but a bad
|
||
State may gradually destroy the faculties which once existed. This it
|
||
can do by allowing or favouring the suppression of those who are the
|
||
bearers of a racial culture.
|
||
|
||
Therefore, the worth of a State can be determined only by asking how far
|
||
it actually succeeds in promoting the well-being of a definite race and
|
||
not by the role which it plays in the world at large. Its relative worth
|
||
can be estimated readily and accurately; but it is difficult to judge
|
||
its absolute worth, because the latter is conditioned not only by the
|
||
State but also by the quality and cultural level of the people that
|
||
belong to the individual State in question.
|
||
|
||
Therefore, when we speak of the high mission of the State we must not
|
||
forget that the high mission belongs to the people and that the business
|
||
of the State is to use its organizing powers for the purpose of
|
||
furnishing the necessary conditions which allow this people freely to
|
||
unfold its creative faculties. And if we ask what kind of statal
|
||
institution we Germans need, we must first have a clear notion as to the
|
||
people which that State must embrace and what purpose it must serve.
|
||
|
||
Unfortunately the German national being is not based on a uniform racial
|
||
type. The process of welding the original elements together has not gone
|
||
so far as to warrant us in saying that a new race has emerged. On the
|
||
contrary, the poison which has invaded the national body, especially
|
||
since the Thirty Years' War, has destroyed the uniform constitution not
|
||
only of our blood but also of our national soul. The open frontiers of
|
||
our native country, the association with non-German foreign elements in
|
||
the territories that lie all along those frontiers, and especially the
|
||
strong influx of foreign blood into the interior of the REICH itself,
|
||
has prevented any complete assimilation of those various elements,
|
||
because the influx has continued steadily. Out of this melting-pot no
|
||
new race arose. The heterogeneous elements continue to exist side by
|
||
side. And the result is that, especially in times of crisis, when the
|
||
herd usually flocks together, the Germans disperse in all directions.
|
||
The fundamental racial elements are not only different in different
|
||
districts, but there are also various elements in the single districts.
|
||
Beside the Nordic type we find the East-European type, beside the
|
||
Eastern there is the Dinaric, the Western type intermingling with both,
|
||
and hybrids among them all. That is a grave drawback for us. Through it
|
||
the Germans lack that strong herd instinct which arises from unity of
|
||
blood and saves nations from ruin in dangerous and critical times;
|
||
because on such occasions small differences disappear, so that a united
|
||
herd faces the enemy. What we understand by the word hyper-individualism
|
||
arises from the fact that our primordial racial elements have existed
|
||
side by side without ever consolidating. During times of peace such a
|
||
situation may offer some advantages, but, taken all in all, it has
|
||
prevented us from gaining a mastery in the world. If in its historical
|
||
development the German people had possessed the unity of herd instinct
|
||
by which other peoples have so much benefited, then the German REICH
|
||
would probably be mistress of the globe to-day. World history would have
|
||
taken another course and in this case no man can tell if what many
|
||
blinded pacifists hope to attain by petitioning, whining and crying, may
|
||
not have been reached in this way: namely, a peace which would not be
|
||
based upon the waving of olive branches and tearful misery-mongering of
|
||
pacifist old women, but a peace that would be guaranteed by the
|
||
triumphant sword of a people endowed with the power to master the world
|
||
and administer it in the service of a higher civilization.
|
||
|
||
The fact that our people did not have a national being based on a unity
|
||
of blood has been the source of untold misery for us. To many petty
|
||
German potentates it gave residential capital cities, but the German
|
||
people as a whole was deprived of its right to rulership.
|
||
|
||
Even to-day our nation still suffers from this lack of inner unity; but
|
||
what has been the cause of our past and present misfortunes may turn out
|
||
a blessing for us in the future. Though on the one hand it may be a
|
||
drawback that our racial elements were not welded together, so that no
|
||
homogeneous national body could develop, on the other hand, it was
|
||
fortunate that, since at least a part of our best blood was thus kept
|
||
pure, its racial quality was not debased.
|
||
|
||
A complete assimilation of all our racial elements would certainly have
|
||
brought about a homogeneous national organism; but, as has been proved
|
||
in the case of every racial mixture, it would have been less capable of
|
||
creating a civilization than by keeping intact its best original
|
||
elements. A benefit which results from the fact that there was no
|
||
all-round assimilation is to be seen in that even now we have large
|
||
groups of German Nordic people within our national organization, and
|
||
that their blood has not been mixed with the blood of other races. We
|
||
must look upon this as our most valuable treasure for the sake of the
|
||
future. During that dark period of absolute ignorance in regard to all
|
||
racial laws, when each individual was considered to be on a par with
|
||
every other, there could be no clear appreciation of the difference
|
||
between the various fundamental racial characteristics. We know to-day
|
||
that a complete assimilation of all the various elements which
|
||
constitute the national being might have resulted in giving us a larger
|
||
share of external power: but, on the other hand, the highest of human
|
||
aims would not have been attained, because the only kind of people which
|
||
fate has obviously chosen to bring about this perfection would have been
|
||
lost in such a general mixture of races which would constitute such a
|
||
racial amalgamation.
|
||
|
||
But what has been prevented by a friendly Destiny, without any
|
||
assistance on our part, must now be reconsidered and utilized in the
|
||
light of our new knowledge.
|
||
|
||
He who talks of the German people as having a mission to fulfil on this
|
||
earth must know that this cannot be fulfilled except by the building up
|
||
of a State whose highest purpose is to preserve and promote those nobler
|
||
elements of our race and of the whole of mankind which have remained
|
||
unimpaired.
|
||
|
||
Thus for the first time a high inner purpose is accredited to the State.
|
||
In face of the ridiculous phrase that the State should do no more than
|
||
act as the guardian of public order and tranquillity, so that everybody
|
||
can peacefully dupe everybody else, it is given a very high mission
|
||
indeed to preserve and encourage the highest type of humanity which a
|
||
beneficent Creator has bestowed on this earth. Out of a dead mechanism
|
||
which claims to be an end in itself a living organism shall arise which
|
||
has to serve one purpose exclusively: and that, indeed, a purpose which
|
||
belongs to a higher order of ideas.
|
||
|
||
As a State the German REICH shall include all Germans. Its task is not
|
||
only to gather in and foster the most valuable sections of our people
|
||
but to lead them slowly and surely to a dominant position in the world.
|
||
|
||
Thus a period of stagnation is superseded by a period of effort. And
|
||
here, as in every other sphere, the proverb holds good that to rest is
|
||
to rust; and furthermore the proverb that victory will always be won by
|
||
him who attacks. The higher the final goal which we strive to reach, and
|
||
the less it be understood at the time by the broad masses, the more
|
||
magnificent will be its success. That is what the lesson of history
|
||
teaches. And the achievement will be all the more significant if the end
|
||
is conceived in the right way and the fight carried through with
|
||
unswerving persistence. Many of the officials who direct the affairs of
|
||
State nowadays may find it easier to work for the maintenance of the
|
||
present order than to fight for a new one. They will find it more
|
||
comfortable to look upon the State as a mechanism, whose purpose is its
|
||
own preservation, and to say that 'their lives belong to the State,' as
|
||
if anything that grew from the inner life of the nation can logically
|
||
serve anything but the national being, and as if man could be made for
|
||
anything else than for his fellow beings. Naturally, it is easier, as I
|
||
have said, to consider the authority of the State as nothing but the
|
||
formal mechanism of an organization, rather than as the sovereign
|
||
incarnation of a people's instinct for self-preservation on this earth.
|
||
For these weak minds the State and the authority of the State is nothing
|
||
but an aim in itself, while for us it is an effective weapon in the
|
||
service of the great and eternal struggle for existence, a weapon which
|
||
everyone must adopt, not because it is a mere formal mechanism, but
|
||
because it is the main expression of our common will to exist.
|
||
|
||
Therefore, in the fight for our new idea, which conforms completely to
|
||
the primal meaning of life, we shall find only a small number of
|
||
comrades in a social order which has become decrepit not only physically
|
||
but mentally also. From these strata of our population only a few
|
||
exceptional people will join our ranks, only those few old people whose
|
||
hearts have remained young and whose courage is still vigorous, but not
|
||
those who consider it their duty to maintain the state of affairs that
|
||
exists.
|
||
|
||
Against us we have the innumerable army of all those who are lazy-minded
|
||
and indifferent rather than evil, and those whose self-interest leads
|
||
them to uphold the present state of affairs. On the apparent
|
||
hopelessness of our great struggle is based the magnitude of our task
|
||
and the possibilities of success. A battle-cry which from the very start
|
||
will scare off all the petty spirits, or at least discourage them, will
|
||
become the signal for a rally of all those temperaments that are of the
|
||
real fighting metal. And it must be clearly recognized that if a highly
|
||
energetic and active body of men emerge from a nation and unite in the
|
||
fight for one goal, thereby ultimately rising above the inert masses of
|
||
the people, this small percentage will become masters of the whole.
|
||
World history is made by minorities if these numerical minorities
|
||
represent in themselves the will and energy and initiative of the people
|
||
as a whole.
|
||
|
||
What seems an obstacle to many persons is really a preliminary condition
|
||
of our victory. Just because our task is so great and because so many
|
||
difficulties have to be overcome, the highest probability is that only
|
||
the best kind of protagonists will join our ranks. This selection is the
|
||
guarantee of our success. Nature generally takes certain measures to
|
||
correct the effect which racial mixture produces in life. She is not
|
||
much in favour of the mongrel. The later products of cross-breeding have
|
||
to suffer bitterly, especially the third, fourth and fifth generations.
|
||
Not only are they deprived of the higher qualities that belonged to the
|
||
parents who participated in the first mixture, but they also lack
|
||
definite will-power and vigorous vital energies owing to the lack of
|
||
harmony in the quality of their blood. At all critical moments in which
|
||
a person of pure racial blood makes correct decisions, that is to say,
|
||
decisions that are coherent and uniform, the person of mixed blood will
|
||
become confused and take measures that are incoherent. Hence we see that
|
||
a person of mixed blood is not only relatively inferior to a person of
|
||
pure blood, but is also doomed to become extinct more rapidly. In
|
||
innumerable cases wherein the pure race holds its ground the mongrel
|
||
breaks down. Therein we witness the corrective provision which Nature
|
||
adopts. She restricts the possibilities of procreation, thus impeding
|
||
the fertility of cross-breeds and bringing them to extinction.
|
||
|
||
For instance, if an individual member of a race should mingle his blood
|
||
with the member of a superior race the first result would be a lowering
|
||
of the racial level, and furthermore the descendants of this
|
||
cross-breeding would be weaker than those of the people around them who
|
||
had maintained their blood unadulterated. Where no new blood from the
|
||
superior race enters the racial stream of the mongrels, and where those
|
||
mongrels continue to cross-breed among themselves, the latter will
|
||
either die out because they have insufficient powers of resistance,
|
||
which is Nature's wise provision, or in the course of many thousands of
|
||
years they will form a new mongrel race in which the original elements
|
||
will become so wholly mixed through this millennial crossing that traces
|
||
of the original elements will be no longer recognizable. And thus a new
|
||
people would be developed which possessed a certain resistance capacity
|
||
of the herd type, but its intellectual value and its cultural
|
||
significance would be essentially inferior to those which the first
|
||
cross-breeds possessed. But even in this last case the mongrel product
|
||
would succumb in the mutual struggle for existence with a higher racial
|
||
group that had maintained its blood unmixed. The herd solidarity which
|
||
this mongrel race had developed through thousands of years will not be
|
||
equal to the struggle. And this is because it would lack elasticity and
|
||
constructive capacity to prevail over a race of homogeneous blood that
|
||
was mentally and culturally superior.
|
||
|
||
Therewith we may lay down the following principle as valid: every racial
|
||
mixture leads, of necessity, sooner or later to the downfall of the
|
||
mongrel product, provided the higher racial strata of this cross-breed
|
||
has not retained within itself some sort of racial homogeneity. The
|
||
danger to the mongrels ceases only when this higher stratum, which has
|
||
maintained certain standards of homogeneous breeding, ceases to be true
|
||
to its pedigree and intermingles with the mongrels.
|
||
|
||
This principle is the source of a slow but constant regeneration whereby
|
||
all the poison which has invaded the racial body is gradually eliminated
|
||
so long as there still remains a fundamental stock of pure racial
|
||
elements which resists further crossbreeding.
|
||
|
||
Such a process may set in automatically among those people where a
|
||
strong racial instinct has remained. Among such people we may count
|
||
those elements which, for some particular cause such as coercion, have
|
||
been thrown out of the normal way of reproduction along strict racial
|
||
lines. As soon as this compulsion ceases, that part of the race which
|
||
has remained intact will tend to marry with its own kind and thus impede
|
||
further intermingling. Then the mongrels recede quite naturally into the
|
||
background unless their numbers had increased so much as to be able to
|
||
withstand all serious resistance from those elements which had preserved
|
||
the purity of their race.
|
||
|
||
When men have lost their natural instincts and ignore the obligations
|
||
imposed on them by Nature, then there is no hope that Nature will
|
||
correct the loss that has been caused, until recognition of the lost
|
||
instincts has been restored. Then the task of bringing back what has
|
||
been lost will have to be accomplished. But there is serious danger that
|
||
those who have become blind once in this respect will continue more and
|
||
more to break down racial barriers and finally lose the last remnants of
|
||
what is best in them. What then remains is nothing but a uniform
|
||
mish-mash, which seems to be the dream of our fine Utopians. But that
|
||
mish-mash would soon banish all ideals from the world. Certainly a great
|
||
herd could thus be formed. One can breed a herd of animals; but from a
|
||
mixture of this kind men such as have created and founded civilizations
|
||
would not be produced. The mission of humanity might then be considered
|
||
at an end.
|
||
|
||
Those who do not wish that the earth should fall into such a condition
|
||
must realize that it is the task of the German State in particular to
|
||
see to it that the process of bastardization is brought to a stop.
|
||
|
||
Our contemporary generation of weaklings will naturally decry such a
|
||
policy and whine and complain about it as an encroachment on the most
|
||
sacred of human rights. But there is only one right that is sacrosanct
|
||
and this right is at the same time a most sacred duty. This right and
|
||
obligation are: that the purity of the racial blood should be guarded,
|
||
so that the best types of human beings may be preserved and that thus we
|
||
should render possible a more noble development of humanity itself.
|
||
|
||
A folk-State should in the first place raise matrimony from the level of
|
||
being a constant scandal to the race. The State should consecrate it as
|
||
an institution which is called upon to produce creatures made in the
|
||
likeness of the Lord and not create monsters that are a mixture of man
|
||
and ape. The protest which is put forward in the name of humanity does
|
||
not fit the mouth of a generation that makes it possible for the most
|
||
depraved degenerates to propagate themselves, thereby imposing
|
||
unspeakable suffering on their own products and their contemporaries,
|
||
while on the other hand contraceptives are permitted and sold in every
|
||
drug store and even by street hawkers, so that babies should not be born
|
||
even among the healthiest of our people. In this present State of ours,
|
||
whose function it is to be the guardian of peace and good order, our
|
||
national bourgeoisie look upon it as a crime to make procreation
|
||
impossible for syphilitics and those who suffer from tuberculosis or
|
||
other hereditary diseases, also cripples and imbeciles. But the
|
||
practical prevention of procreation among millions of our very best
|
||
people is not considered as an evil, nor does it offend against the
|
||
noble morality of this social class but rather encourages their
|
||
short-sightedness and mental lethargy. For otherwise they would at least
|
||
stir their brains to find an answer to the question of how to create
|
||
conditions for the feeding and maintaining of those future beings who
|
||
will be the healthy representatives of our nation and must also provide
|
||
the conditions on which the generation that is to follow them will have
|
||
to support itself and live.
|
||
|
||
How devoid of ideals and how ignoble is the whole contemporary system!
|
||
The fact that the churches join in committing this sin against the image
|
||
of God, even though they continue to emphasize the dignity of that
|
||
image, is quite in keeping with their present activities. They talk
|
||
about the Spirit, but they allow man, as the embodiment of the Spirit,
|
||
to degenerate to the proletarian level. Then they look on with amazement
|
||
when they realize how small is the influence of the Christian Faith in
|
||
their own country and how depraved and ungodly is this riff-raff which
|
||
is physically degenerate and therefore morally degenerate also. To
|
||
balance this state of affairs they try to convert the Hottentots and the
|
||
Zulus and the Kaffirs and to bestow on them the blessings of the Church.
|
||
While our European people, God be praised and thanked, are left to
|
||
become the victims of moral depravity, the pious missionary goes out to
|
||
Central Africa and establishes missionary stations for negroes. Finally,
|
||
sound and healthy--though primitive and backward--people will be
|
||
transformed, under the name of our 'higher civilization', into a motley
|
||
of lazy and brutalized mongrels.
|
||
|
||
It would better accord with noble human aspirations if our two Christian
|
||
denominations would cease to bother the negroes with their preaching,
|
||
which the negroes do not want and do not understand. It would be better
|
||
if they left this work alone, and if, in its stead, they tried to teach
|
||
people in Europe, kindly and seriously, that it is much more pleasing to
|
||
God if a couple that is not of healthy stock were to show loving
|
||
kindness to some poor orphan and become a father and mother to him,
|
||
rather than give life to a sickly child that will be a cause of
|
||
suffering and unhappiness to all.
|
||
|
||
In this field the People's State will have to repair the damage that
|
||
arises from the fact that the problem is at present neglected by all the
|
||
various parties concerned. It will be the task of the People's State to
|
||
make the race the centre of the life of the community. It must make sure
|
||
that the purity of the racial strain will be preserved. It must proclaim
|
||
the truth that the child is the most valuable possession a people can
|
||
have. It must see to it that only those who are healthy shall beget
|
||
children; that there is only one infamy, namely, for parents that are
|
||
ill or show hereditary defects to bring children into the world and that
|
||
in such cases it is a high honour to refrain from doing so. But, on the
|
||
other hand, it must be considered as reprehensible conduct to refrain
|
||
from giving healthy children to the nation. In this matter the State
|
||
must assert itself as the trustee of a millennial future, in face of
|
||
which the egotistic desires of the individual count for nothing and will
|
||
have to give way before the ruling of the State. In order to fulfil this
|
||
duty in a practical manner the State will have to avail itself of modern
|
||
medical discoveries. It must proclaim as unfit for procreation all those
|
||
who are inflicted with some visible hereditary disease or are the
|
||
carriers of it; and practical measures must be adopted to have such
|
||
people rendered sterile. On the other hand, provision must be made for
|
||
the normally fertile woman so that she will not be restricted in
|
||
child-bearing through the financial and economic system operating in a
|
||
political regime that looks upon the blessing of having children as a
|
||
curse to their parents. The State will have to abolish the cowardly and
|
||
even criminal indifference with which the problem of social amenities
|
||
for large families is treated, and it will have to be the supreme
|
||
protector of this greatest blessing that a people can boast of. Its
|
||
attention and care must be directed towards the child rather than the
|
||
adult.
|
||
|
||
Those who are physically and mentally unhealthy and unfit must not
|
||
perpetuate their own suffering in the bodies of their children. From the
|
||
educational point of view there is here a huge task for the People's
|
||
State to accomplish. But in a future era this work will appear greater
|
||
and more significant than the victorious wars of our present bourgeois
|
||
epoch. Through educational means the State must teach individuals that
|
||
illness is not a disgrace but an unfortunate accident which has to be
|
||
pitied, yet that it is a crime and a disgrace to make this affliction
|
||
all the worse by passing on disease and defects to innocent creatures
|
||
out of mere egotism.
|
||
|
||
And the State must also teach the people that it is an expression of a
|
||
really noble nature and that it is a humanitarian act worthy of
|
||
admiration if a person who innocently suffers from hereditary disease
|
||
refrains from having a child of his own but gives his love and affection
|
||
to some unknown child who, through its health, promises to become a
|
||
robust member of a healthy community. In accomplishing such an
|
||
educational task the State integrates its function by this activity in
|
||
the moral sphere. It must act on this principle without paying any
|
||
attention to the question of whether its conduct will be understood or
|
||
misconstrued, blamed or praised.
|
||
|
||
If for a period of only 600 years those individuals would be sterilized
|
||
who are physically degenerate or mentally diseased, humanity would not
|
||
only be delivered from an immense misfortune but also restored to a
|
||
state of general health such as we at present can hardly imagine. If the
|
||
fecundity of the healthy portion of the nation should be made a
|
||
practical matter in a conscientious and methodical way, we should have
|
||
at least the beginnings of a race from which all those germs would be
|
||
eliminated which are to-day the cause of our moral and physical
|
||
decadence. If a people and a State take this course to develop that
|
||
nucleus of the nation which is most valuable from the racial standpoint
|
||
and thus increase its fecundity, the people as a whole will subsequently
|
||
enjoy that most precious of gifts which consists in a racial quality
|
||
fashioned on truly noble lines.
|
||
|
||
To achieve this the State should first of all not leave the colonization
|
||
of newly acquired territory to a haphazard policy but should have it
|
||
carried out under the guidance of definite principles. Specially
|
||
competent committees ought to issue certificates to individuals
|
||
entitling them to engage in colonization work, and these certificates
|
||
should guarantee the racial purity of the individuals in question. In
|
||
this way frontier colonies could gradually be founded whose inhabitants
|
||
would be of the purest racial stock, and hence would possess the best
|
||
qualities of the race. Such colonies would be a valuable asset to the
|
||
whole nation. Their development would be a source of joy and confidence
|
||
and pride to each citizen of the nation, because they would contain the
|
||
pure germ which would ultimately bring about a great development of the
|
||
nation and indeed of mankind itself.
|
||
|
||
The WELTANSCHAUUNG which bases the State on the racial idea must
|
||
finally succeed in bringing about a nobler era, in which men will no
|
||
longer pay exclusive attention to breeding and rearing pedigree dogs and
|
||
horses and cats, but will endeavour to improve the breed of the human
|
||
race itself. That will be an era of silence and renunciation for one
|
||
class of people, while the others will give their gifts and make their
|
||
sacrifices joyfully.
|
||
|
||
That such a mentality may be possible cannot be denied in a world where
|
||
hundreds and thousands accept the principle of celibacy from their own
|
||
choice, without being obliged or pledged to do so by anything except an
|
||
ecclesiastical precept. Why should it not be possible to induce people
|
||
to make this sacrifice if, instead of such a precept, they were simply
|
||
told that they ought to put an end to this truly original sin of racial
|
||
corruption which is steadily being passed on from one generation to
|
||
another. And, further, they ought to be brought to realize that it is
|
||
their bounden duty to give to the Almighty Creator beings such as He
|
||
himself made to His own image.
|
||
|
||
Naturally, our wretched army of contemporary philistines will not
|
||
understand these things. They will ridicule them or shrug their round
|
||
shoulders and groan out their everlasting excuses: "Of course it is a
|
||
fine thing, but the pity is that it cannot be carried out." And we
|
||
reply: "With you indeed it cannot be done, for your world is incapable
|
||
of such an idea. You know only one anxiety and that is for your own
|
||
personal existence. You have one God, and that is your money. We do not
|
||
turn to you, however, for help, but to the great army of those who are
|
||
too poor to consider their personal existence as the highest good on
|
||
earth. They do not place their trust in money but in other gods, into
|
||
whose hands they confide their lives. Above all we turn to the vast army
|
||
of our German youth. They are coming to maturity in a great epoch, and
|
||
they will fight against the evils which were due to the laziness and
|
||
indifference of their fathers." Either the German youth will one day
|
||
create a new State founded on the racial idea or they will be the last
|
||
witnesses of the complete breakdown and death of the bourgeois world.
|
||
|
||
For if a generation suffers from defects which it recognizes and even
|
||
admits and is nevertheless quite pleased with itself, as the bourgeois
|
||
world is to-day, resorting to the cheap excuse that nothing can be done
|
||
to remedy the situation, then such a generation is doomed to disaster. A
|
||
marked characteristic of our bourgeois world is that they no longer can
|
||
deny the evil conditions that exist. They have to admit that there is
|
||
much which is foul and wrong; but they are not able to make up their
|
||
minds to fight against that evil, which would mean putting forth the
|
||
energy to mobilize the forces of 60 or 70 million people and thus oppose
|
||
this menace. They do just the opposite. When such an effort is made
|
||
elsewhere they only indulge in silly comment and try from a safe
|
||
distance to show that such an enterprise is theoretically impossible and
|
||
doomed to failure. No arguments are too stupid to be employed in the
|
||
service of their own pettifogging opinions and their knavish moral
|
||
attitude. If, for instance, a whole continent wages war against
|
||
alcoholic intoxication, so as to free a whole people from this
|
||
devastating vice, our bourgeois European does not know better than to
|
||
look sideways stupidly, shake the head in doubt and ridicule the
|
||
movement with a superior sneer--a state of mind which is effective in a
|
||
society that is so ridiculous. But when all these stupidities miss their
|
||
aim and in that part of the world this sublime and intangible attitude
|
||
is treated effectively and success attends the movement, then such
|
||
success is called into question or its importance minimized. Even moral
|
||
principles are used in this slanderous campaign against a movement which
|
||
aims at suppressing a great source of immorality.
|
||
|
||
No. We must not permit ourselves to be deceived by any illusions on this
|
||
point. Our contemporary bourgeois world has become useless for any such
|
||
noble human task because it has lost all high quality and is evil, not
|
||
so much--as I think--because evil is wished but rather because these
|
||
people are too indolent to rise up against it. That is why those
|
||
political societies which call themselves 'bourgeois parties' are
|
||
nothing but associations to promote the interests of certain
|
||
professional groups and classes. Their highest aim is to defend their
|
||
own egoistic interests as best they can. It is obvious that such a
|
||
guild, consisting of bourgeois politicians, may be considered fit for
|
||
anything rather than a struggle, especially when the adversaries are not
|
||
cautious shopkeepers but the proletarian masses, goaded on to
|
||
extremities and determined not to hesitate before deeds of violence.
|
||
|
||
If we consider it the first duty of the State to serve and promote the
|
||
general welfare of the people, by preserving and encouraging the
|
||
development of the best racial elements, the logical consequence is that
|
||
this task cannot be limited to measures concerning the birth of the
|
||
infant members of the race and nation but that the State will also have
|
||
to adopt educational means for making each citizen a worthy factor in
|
||
the further propagation of the racial stock.
|
||
|
||
Just as, in general, the racial quality is the preliminary condition for
|
||
the mental efficiency of any given human material, the training of the
|
||
individual will first of all have to be directed towards the development
|
||
of sound bodily health. For the general rule is that a strong and
|
||
healthy mind is found only in a strong and healthy body. The fact that
|
||
men of genius are sometimes not robust in health and stature, or even of
|
||
a sickly constitution, is no proof against the principle I have
|
||
enunciated. These cases are only exceptions which, as everywhere else,
|
||
prove the rule. But when the bulk of a nation is composed of physical
|
||
degenerates it is rare for a great spirit to arise from such a miserable
|
||
motley. And in any case his activities would never meet with great
|
||
success. A degenerate mob will either be incapable of understanding him
|
||
at all or their will-power is so feeble that they cannot follow the
|
||
soaring of such an eagle.
|
||
|
||
The State that is grounded on the racial principle and is alive to the
|
||
significance of this truth will first of all have to base its
|
||
educational work not on the mere imparting of knowledge but rather on
|
||
physical training and development of healthy bodies. The cultivation of
|
||
the intellectual facilities comes only in the second place. And here
|
||
again it is character which has to be developed first of all, strength
|
||
of will and decision. And the educational system ought to foster the
|
||
spirit of readiness to accept responsibilities gladly. Formal
|
||
instruction in the sciences must be considered last in importance.
|
||
Accordingly the State which is grounded on the racial idea must start
|
||
with the principle that a person whose formal education in the sciences
|
||
is relatively small but who is physically sound and robust, of a
|
||
steadfast and honest character, ready and able to make decisions and
|
||
endowed with strength of will, is a more useful member of the national
|
||
community than a weakling who is scholarly and refined. A nation
|
||
composed of learned men who are physical weaklings, hesitant about
|
||
decisions of the will, and timid pacifists, is not capable of assuring
|
||
even its own existence on this earth. In the bitter struggle which
|
||
decides the destiny of man it is very rare that an individual has
|
||
succumbed because he lacked learning. Those who fail are they who try to
|
||
ignore these consequences and are too faint-hearted about putting them
|
||
into effect. There must be a certain balance between mind and body. An
|
||
ill-kept body is not made a more beautiful sight by the indwelling of a
|
||
radiant spirit. We should not be acting justly if we were to bestow the
|
||
highest intellectual training on those who are physically deformed and
|
||
crippled, who lack decision and are weak-willed and cowardly. What has
|
||
made the Greek ideal of beauty immortal is the wonderful union of a
|
||
splendid physical beauty with nobility of mind and spirit.
|
||
|
||
Moltke's saying, that in the long run fortune favours only the
|
||
efficient, is certainly valid for the relationship between body and
|
||
spirit. A mind which is sound will generally maintain its dwelling in a
|
||
body that is sound.
|
||
|
||
Accordingly, in the People's State physical training is not a matter for
|
||
the individual alone. Nor is it a duty which first devolves on the
|
||
parents and only secondly or thirdly a public interest; but it is
|
||
necessary for the preservation of the people, who are represented and
|
||
protected by the State. As regards purely formal education the State
|
||
even now interferes with the individual's right of self-determination
|
||
and insists upon the right of the community by submitting the child to
|
||
an obligatory system of training, without paying attention to the
|
||
approval or disapproval of the parents. In a similar way and to a higher
|
||
degree the new People's State will one day make its authority prevail
|
||
over the ignorance and incomprehension of individuals in problems
|
||
appertaining to the safety of the nation. It must organize its
|
||
educational work in such a way that the bodies of the young will be
|
||
systematically trained from infancy onwards, so as to be tempered and
|
||
hardened for the demands to be made on them in later years. Above all,
|
||
the State must see to it that a generation of stay-at-homes is not
|
||
developed.
|
||
|
||
The work of education and hygiene has to begin with the young mother.
|
||
The painstaking efforts carried on for several decades have succeeded in
|
||
abolishing septic infection at childbirth and reducing puerperal fever
|
||
to a relatively small number of cases. And so it ought to be possible by
|
||
means of instructing sisters and mothers in an opportune way, to
|
||
institute a system of training the child from early infancy onwards so
|
||
that this may serve as an excellent basis for future development.
|
||
|
||
The People's State ought to allow much more time for physical training
|
||
in the school. It is nonsense to burden young brains with a load of
|
||
material of which, as experience shows, they retain only a small part,
|
||
and mostly not the essentials, but only the secondary and useless
|
||
portion; because the young mind is incapable of sifting the right kind
|
||
of learning out of all the stuff that is pumped into it. To-day, even in
|
||
the curriculum of the high schools, only two short hours in the week are
|
||
reserved for gymnastics; and worse still, it is left to the pupils to
|
||
decide whether or not they want to take part. This shows a grave
|
||
disproportion between this branch of education and purely intellectual
|
||
instruction. Not a single day should be allowed to pass in which the
|
||
young pupil does not have one hour of physical training in the morning
|
||
and one in the evening; and every kind of sport and gymnastics should be
|
||
included. There is one kind of sport which should be specially
|
||
encouraged, although many people who call themselves V<>LKISCH consider
|
||
it brutal and vulgar, and that is boxing. It is incredible how many
|
||
false notions prevail among the 'cultivated' classes. The fact that the
|
||
young man learns how to fence and then spends his time in duels is
|
||
considered quite natural and respectable. But boxing--that is brutal.
|
||
Why? There is no other sport which equals this in developing the
|
||
militant spirit, none that demands such a power of rapid decision or
|
||
which gives the body the flexibility of good steel. It is no more vulgar
|
||
when two young people settle their differences with their fists than
|
||
with sharp-pointed pieces of steel. One who is attacked and defends
|
||
himself with his fists surely does not act less manly than one who runs
|
||
off and yells for the assistance of a policeman. But, above all, a
|
||
healthy youth has to learn to endure hard knocks. This principle may
|
||
appear savage to our contemporary champions who fight only with the
|
||
weapons of the intellect. But it is not the purpose of the People's
|
||
State to educate a colony of aesthetic pacifists and physical
|
||
degenerates. This State does not consider that the human ideal is to be
|
||
found in the honourable philistine or the maidenly spinster, but in a
|
||
dareful personification of manly force and in women capable of bringing
|
||
men into the world.
|
||
|
||
Generally speaking, the function of sport is not only to make the
|
||
individual strong, alert and daring, but also to harden the body and
|
||
train it to endure an adverse environment.
|
||
|
||
If our superior class had not received such a distinguished education,
|
||
and if, on the contrary, they had learned boxing, it would never have
|
||
been possible for bullies and deserters and other such CANAILLE to carry
|
||
through a German revolution. For the success of this revolution was not
|
||
due to the courageous, energetic and audacious activities of its authors
|
||
but to the lamentable cowardice and irresolution of those who ruled the
|
||
German State at that time and were responsible for it. But our educated
|
||
leaders had received only an 'intellectual' training and thus found
|
||
themselves defenceless when their adversaries used iron bars instead of
|
||
intellectual weapons. All this could happen only because our superior
|
||
scholastic system did not train men to be real men but merely to be
|
||
civil servants, engineers, technicians, chemists, litterateurs, jurists
|
||
and, finally, professors; so that intellectualism should not die out.
|
||
|
||
Our leadership in the purely intellectual sphere has always been
|
||
brilliant, but as regards will-power in practical affairs our leadership
|
||
has been beneath criticism.
|
||
|
||
Of course education cannot make a courageous man out of one who is
|
||
temperamentally a coward. But a man who naturally possesses a certain
|
||
degree of courage will not be able to develop that quality if his
|
||
defective education has made him inferior to others from the very start
|
||
as regards physical strength and prowess. The army offers the best
|
||
example of the fact that the knowledge of one's physical ability
|
||
develops a man's courage and militant spirit. Outstanding heroes are not
|
||
the rule in the army, but the average represents men of high courage.
|
||
The excellent schooling which the German soldiers received before the
|
||
War imbued the members of the whole gigantic organism with a degree of
|
||
confidence in their own superiority such as even our opponents never
|
||
thought possible. All the immortal examples of dauntless courage and
|
||
daring which the German armies gave during the late summer and autumn of
|
||
1914, as they advanced from triumph to triumph, were the result of that
|
||
education which had been pursued systematically. During those long years
|
||
of peace before the last War men who were almost physical weaklings were
|
||
made capable of incredible deeds, and thus a self-confidence was
|
||
developed which did not fail even in the most terrible battles.
|
||
|
||
It is our German people, which broke down and were delivered over to be
|
||
kicked by the rest of the world, that had need of the power that comes
|
||
by suggestion from self-confidence. But this confidence in one's self
|
||
must be instilled into our children from their very early years. The
|
||
whole system of education and training must be directed towards
|
||
fostering in the child the conviction that he is unquestionably a match
|
||
for any- and everybody. The individual has to regain his own physical
|
||
strength and prowess in order to believe in the invincibility of the
|
||
nation to which he belongs. What has formerly led the German armies to
|
||
victory was the sum total of the confidence which each individual had in
|
||
himself, and which all of them had in those who held the positions of
|
||
command. What will restore the national strength of the German people is
|
||
the conviction that they will be able to reconquer their liberty. But
|
||
this conviction can only be the final product of an equal feeling in the
|
||
millions of individuals. And here again we must have no illusions.
|
||
|
||
The collapse of our people was overwhelming, and the efforts to put an
|
||
end to so much misery must also be overwhelming. It would be a bitter
|
||
and grave error to believe that our people could be made strong again
|
||
simply by means of our present bourgeois training in good order and
|
||
obedience. That will not suffice if we are to break up the present order
|
||
of things, which now sanctions the acknowledgment of our defeat and cast
|
||
the broken chains of our slavery in the face of our opponents. Only by a
|
||
superabundance of national energy and a passionate thirst for liberty
|
||
can we recover what has been lost.
|
||
|
||
Also the manner of clothing the young should be such as harmonizes with
|
||
this purpose. It is really lamentable to see how our young people have
|
||
fallen victims to a fashion mania which perverts the meaning of the old
|
||
adage that clothes make the man.
|
||
|
||
Especially in regard to young people clothes should take their place in
|
||
the service of education. The boy who walks about in summer-time wearing
|
||
long baggy trousers and clad up to the neck is hampered even by his
|
||
clothes in feeling any inclination towards strenuous physical exercise.
|
||
Ambition and, to speak quite frankly, even vanity must be appealed to. I
|
||
do not mean such vanity as leads people to want to wear fine clothes,
|
||
which not everybody can afford, but rather the vanity which inclines a
|
||
person towards developing a fine bodily physique. And this is something
|
||
which everybody can help to do.
|
||
|
||
This will come in useful also for later years. The young girl must
|
||
become acquainted with her sweetheart. If the beauty of the body were
|
||
not completely forced into the background to-day through our stupid
|
||
manner of dressing, it would not be possible for thousands of our girls
|
||
to be led astray by Jewish mongrels, with their repulsive crooked
|
||
waddle. It is also in the interests of the nation that those who have a
|
||
beautiful physique should be brought into the foreground, so that they
|
||
might encourage the development of a beautiful bodily form among the
|
||
people in general.
|
||
|
||
Military training is excluded among us to-day, and therewith the only
|
||
institution which in peace-times at least partly made up for the lack of
|
||
physical training in our education. Therefore what I have suggested is
|
||
all the more necessary in our time. The success of our old military
|
||
training not only showed itself in the education of the individual but
|
||
also in the influence which it exercised over the mutual relationship
|
||
between the sexes. The young girl preferred the soldier to one who was
|
||
not a soldier. The People's State must not confine its control of
|
||
physical training to the official school period, but it must demand
|
||
that, after leaving school and while the adolescent body is still
|
||
developing, the boy continues this training. For on such proper physical
|
||
development success in after-life largely depends. It is stupid to think
|
||
that the right of the State to supervise the education of its young
|
||
citizens suddenly comes to an end the moment they leave school and
|
||
recommences only with military service. This right is a duty, and as
|
||
such it must continue uninterruptedly. The present State, which does not
|
||
interest itself in developing healthy men, has criminally neglected this
|
||
duty. It leaves our contemporary youth to be corrupted on the streets
|
||
and in the brothels, instead of keeping hold of the reins and continuing
|
||
the physical training of these youths up to the time when they are grown
|
||
into healthy young men and women.
|
||
|
||
For the present it is a matter of indifference what form the State
|
||
chooses for carrying on this training. The essential matter is that it
|
||
should be developed and that the most suitable ways of doing so should
|
||
be investigated. The People's State will have to consider the physical
|
||
training of the youth after the school period just as much a public duty
|
||
as their intellectual training; and this training will have to be
|
||
carried out through public institutions. Its general lines can be a
|
||
preparation for subsequent service in the army. And then it will no
|
||
longer be the task of the army to teach the young recruit the most
|
||
elementary drill regulations. In fact the army will no longer have to
|
||
deal with recruits in the present sense of the word, but it will rather
|
||
have to transform into a soldier the youth whose bodily prowess has been
|
||
already fully trained.
|
||
|
||
In the People's State the army will no longer be obliged to teach boys
|
||
how to walk and stand erect, but it will be the final and supreme school
|
||
of patriotic education. In the army the young recruit will learn the art
|
||
of bearing arms, but at the same time he will be equipped for his other
|
||
duties in later life. And the supreme aim of military education must
|
||
always be to achieve that which was attributed to the old army as its
|
||
highest merit: namely, that through his military schooling the boy must
|
||
be transformed into a man, that he must not only learn to obey but also
|
||
acquire the fundamentals that will enable him one day to command. He
|
||
must learn to remain silent not only when he is rightly rebuked but also
|
||
when he is wrongly rebuked.
|
||
|
||
Furthermore, on the self-consciousness of his own strength and on the
|
||
basis of that ESPRIT DE CORPS which inspires him and his comrades, he
|
||
must become convinced that he belongs to a people who are invincible.
|
||
|
||
After he has completed his military training two certificates shall be
|
||
handed to the soldier. The one will be his diploma as a citizen of the
|
||
State, a juridical document which will enable him to take part in public
|
||
affairs. The second will be an attestation of his physical health, which
|
||
guarantees his fitness for marriage.
|
||
|
||
The People's State will have to direct the education of girls just as
|
||
that of boys and according to the same fundamental principles. Here
|
||
again special importance must be given to physical training, and only
|
||
after that must the importance of spiritual and mental training be taken
|
||
into account. In the education of the girl the final goal always to be
|
||
kept in mind is that she is one day to be a mother.
|
||
|
||
It is only in the second place that the People's State must busy itself
|
||
with the training of character, using all the means adapted to that
|
||
purpose.
|
||
|
||
Of course the essential traits of the individual character are already
|
||
there fundamentally before any education takes place. A person who is
|
||
fundamentally egoistic will always remain fundamentally egoistic, and
|
||
the idealist will always remain fundamentally an idealist. Besides
|
||
those, however, who already possess a definite stamp of character there
|
||
are millions of people with characters that are indefinite and vague.
|
||
The born delinquent will always remain a delinquent, but numerous people
|
||
who show only a certain tendency to commit criminal acts may become
|
||
useful members of the community if rightly trained; whereas, on the
|
||
other hand, weak and unstable characters may easily become evil elements
|
||
if the system of education has been bad.
|
||
|
||
During the War it was often lamented that our people could be so little
|
||
reticent. This failing made it very difficult to keep even highly
|
||
important secrets from the knowledge of the enemy. But let us ask this
|
||
question: What did the German educational system do in pre-War times to
|
||
teach the Germans to be discreet? Did it not very often happen in
|
||
schooldays that the little tell-tale was preferred to his companions who
|
||
kept their mouths shut? Is it not true that then, as well as now,
|
||
complaining about others was considered praiseworthy 'candour', while
|
||
silent discretion was taken as obstinacy? Has any attempt ever been made
|
||
to teach that discretion is a precious and manly virtue? No, for such
|
||
matters are trifles in the eyes of our educators. But these trifles cost
|
||
our State innumerable millions in legal expenses; for 90 per cent of all
|
||
the processes for defamation and such like charges arise only from a
|
||
lack of discretion. Remarks that are made without any sense of
|
||
responsibility are thoughtlessly repeated from mouth to mouth; and our
|
||
economic welfare is continually damaged because important methods of
|
||
production are thus disclosed. Secret preparations for our national
|
||
defence are rendered illusory because our people have never learned the
|
||
duty of silence. They repeat everything they happen to hear. In times of
|
||
war such talkative habits may even cause the loss of battles and
|
||
therefore may contribute essentially to the unsuccessful outcome of a
|
||
campaign. Here, as in other matters, we may rest assured that adults
|
||
cannot do what they have not learnt to do in youth. A teacher must not
|
||
try to discover the wild tricks of the boys by encouraging the evil
|
||
practice of tale-bearing. Young people form a sort of State among
|
||
themselves and face adults with a certain solidarity. That is quite
|
||
natural. The ties which unite the ten-year boys to one another are
|
||
stronger and more natural than their relationship to adults. A boy who
|
||
tells on his comrades commits an act of treason and shows a bent of
|
||
character which is, to speak bluntly, similar to that of a man who
|
||
commits high treason. Such a boy must not be classed as 'good',
|
||
'reliable', and so on, but rather as one with undesirable traits of
|
||
character. It may be rather convenient for the teacher to make use of
|
||
such unworthy tendencies in order to help his own work, but by such an
|
||
attitude the germ of a moral habit is sown in young hearts and may one
|
||
day show fatal consequences. It has happened more often than once that a
|
||
young informer developed into a big scoundrel.
|
||
|
||
This is only one example among many. The deliberate training of fine and
|
||
noble traits of character in our schools to-day is almost negative. In
|
||
the future much more emphasis will have to be laid on this side of our
|
||
educational work. Loyalty, self-sacrifice and discretion are virtues
|
||
which a great nation must possess. And the teaching and development of
|
||
these in the school is a more important matter than many others things
|
||
now included in the curriculum. To make the children give up habits of
|
||
complaining and whining and howling when they are hurt, etc., also
|
||
belongs to this part of their training. If the educational system fails
|
||
to teach the child at an early age to endure pain and injury without
|
||
complaining we cannot be surprised if at a later age, when the boy has
|
||
grown to be the man and is, for example, in the trenches, the postal
|
||
service is used for nothing else than to send home letters of weeping
|
||
and complaint. If our youths, during their years in the primary schools,
|
||
had had their minds crammed with a little less knowledge, and if instead
|
||
they had been better taught how to be masters of themselves, it would
|
||
have served us well during the years 1914-1918.
|
||
|
||
In its educational system the People's State will have to attach the
|
||
highest importance to the development of character, hand-in-hand with
|
||
physical training. Many more defects which our national organism shows
|
||
at present could be at least ameliorated, if not completely eliminated,
|
||
by education of the right kind.
|
||
|
||
Extreme importance should be attached to the training of will-power and
|
||
the habit of making firm decisions, also the habit of being always ready
|
||
to accept responsibilities.
|
||
|
||
In the training of our old army the principle was in vogue that any
|
||
order is always better than no order. Applied to our youth this
|
||
principle ought to take the form that any answer is better than no
|
||
answer. The fear of replying, because one fears to be wrong, ought to be
|
||
considered more humiliating than giving the wrong reply. On this simple
|
||
and primitive basis our youth should be trained to have the courage to
|
||
act.
|
||
|
||
It has been often lamented that in November and December 1918 all the
|
||
authorities lost their heads and that, from the monarch down to the last
|
||
divisional commander, nobody had sufficient mettle to make a decision on
|
||
his own responsibility. That terrible fact constitutes a grave rebuke to
|
||
our educational system; because what was then revealed on a colossal
|
||
scale at that moment of catastrophe was only what happens on a smaller
|
||
scale everywhere among us. It is the lack of will-power, and not the
|
||
lack of arms, which renders us incapable of offering any serious
|
||
resistance to-day. This defect is found everywhere among our people and
|
||
prevents decisive action wherever risks have to be taken, as if any
|
||
great action can be taken without also taking the risk. Quite
|
||
unsuspectingly, a German General found a formula for this lamentable
|
||
lack of the will-to-act when he said: "I act only when I can count on a
|
||
51 per cent probability of success." In that '51 per cent probability'
|
||
we find the very root of the German collapse. The man who demands from
|
||
Fate a guarantee of his success deliberately denies the significance of
|
||
an heroic act. For this significance consists in the very fact that, in
|
||
the definite knowledge that the situation in question is fraught with
|
||
mortal danger, an action is undertaken which may lead to success. A
|
||
patient suffering from cancer and who knows that his death is certain if
|
||
he does not undergo an operation, needs no 51 per cent probability of a
|
||
cure before facing the operation. And if the operation promises only
|
||
half of one per cent probability of success a man of courage will risk
|
||
it and would not whine if it turned out unsuccessful.
|
||
|
||
All in all, the cowardly lack of will-power and the incapacity for
|
||
making decisions are chiefly results of the erroneous education given us
|
||
in our youth. The disastrous effects of this are now widespread among
|
||
us. The crowning examples of that tragic chain of consequences are shown
|
||
in the lack of civil courage which our leading statesmen display.
|
||
|
||
The cowardice which leads nowadays to the shirking of every kind of
|
||
responsibility springs from the same roots. Here again it is the fault
|
||
of the education given our young people. This drawback permeates all
|
||
sections of public life and finds its immortal consummation in the
|
||
institutions of government that function under the parliamentary regime.
|
||
|
||
Already in the school, unfortunately, more value is placed on
|
||
'confession and full repentance' and 'contrite renouncement', on the
|
||
part of little sinners, than on a simple and frank avowal. But this
|
||
latter seems to-day, in the eyes of many an educator, to savour of a
|
||
spirit of utter incorrigibility and depravation. And, though it may seem
|
||
incredible, many a boy is told that the gallows tree is waiting for him
|
||
because he has shown certain traits which might be of inestimable value
|
||
in the nation as a whole.
|
||
|
||
Just as the People's State must one day give its attention to training
|
||
the will-power and capacity for decision among the youth, so too it must
|
||
inculcate in the hearts of the young generation from early childhood
|
||
onwards a readiness to accept responsibilities, and the courage of open
|
||
and frank avowal. If it recognizes the full significance of this
|
||
necessity, finally--after a century of educative work--it will succeed
|
||
in building up a nation which will no longer be subject to those defeats
|
||
that have contributed so disastrously to bring about our present
|
||
overthrow.
|
||
|
||
The formal imparting of knowledge, which constitutes the chief work of
|
||
our educational system to-day, will be taken over by the People's State
|
||
with only few modifications. These modifications must be made in three
|
||
branches.
|
||
|
||
First of all, the brains of the young people must not generally be
|
||
burdened with subjects of which ninety-five per cent are useless to them
|
||
and are therefore forgotten again. The curriculum of the primary and
|
||
secondary schools presents an odd mixture at the present time. In many
|
||
branches of study the subject matter to be learned has become so
|
||
enormous that only a very small fraction of it can be remembered later
|
||
on, and indeed only a very small fraction of this whole mass of
|
||
knowledge can be used. On the other hand, what is learned is
|
||
insufficient for anybody who wishes to specialize in any certain branch
|
||
for the purpose of earning his daily bread. Take, for example, the
|
||
average civil servant who has passed through the GYMNASIUM or High
|
||
School, and ask him at the age of thirty or forty how much he has
|
||
retained of the knowledge that was crammed into him with so much pains.
|
||
|
||
How much is retained from all that was stuffed into his brain? He will
|
||
certainly answer: "Well, if a mass of stuff was then taught, it was not
|
||
for the sole purpose of supplying the student with a great stock of
|
||
knowledge from which he could draw in later years, but it served to
|
||
develop the understanding, the memory, and above all it helped to
|
||
strengthen the thinking powers of the brain." That is partly true. And
|
||
yet it is somewhat dangerous to submerge a young brain in a flood of
|
||
impressions which it can hardly master and the single elements of which
|
||
it cannot discern or appreciate at their just value. It is mostly the
|
||
essential part of this knowledge, and not the accidental, that is
|
||
forgotten and sacrificed. Thus the principal purpose of this copious
|
||
instruction is frustrated, for that purpose cannot be to make the brain
|
||
capable of learning by simply offering it an enormous and varied amount
|
||
of subjects for acquisition, but rather to furnish the individual with
|
||
that stock of knowledge which he will need in later life and which he
|
||
can use for the good of the community. This aim, however, is rendered
|
||
illusory if, because of the superabundance of subjects that have been
|
||
crammed into his head in childhood, a person is able to remember
|
||
nothing, or at least not the essential portion, of all this in later
|
||
life. There is no reason why millions of people should learn two or
|
||
three languages during the school years, when only a very small fraction
|
||
will have the opportunity to use these languages in later life and when
|
||
most of them will therefore forget those languages completely. To take
|
||
an instance: Out of 100,000 students who learn French there are probably
|
||
not 2,000 who will be in a position to make use of this accomplishment
|
||
in later life, while 98,000 will never have a chance to utilize in
|
||
practice what they have learned in youth. They have spent thousands of
|
||
hours on a subject which will afterwards be without any value or
|
||
importance to them. The argument that these matters form part of the
|
||
general process of educating the mind is invalid. It would be sound if
|
||
all these people were able to use this learning in after life. But, as
|
||
the situation stands, 98,000 are tortured to no purpose and waste their
|
||
valuable time, only for the sake of the 2,000 to whom the language will
|
||
be of any use.
|
||
|
||
In the case of that language which I have chosen as an example it cannot
|
||
be said that the learning of it educates the student in logical thinking
|
||
or sharpens his mental acumen, as the learning of Latin, for instance,
|
||
might be said to do. It would therefore be much better to teach young
|
||
students only the general outline, or, better, the inner structure of
|
||
such a language: that is to say, to allow them to discern the
|
||
characteristic features of the language, or perhaps to make them
|
||
acquainted with the rudiments of its grammar, its pronunciation, its
|
||
syntax, style, etc. That would be sufficient for average students,
|
||
because it would provide a clearer view of the whole and could be more
|
||
easily remembered. And it would be more practical than the present-day
|
||
attempt to cram into their heads a detailed knowledge of the whole
|
||
language, which they can never master and which they will readily
|
||
forget. If this method were adopted, then we should avoid the danger
|
||
that, out of the superabundance of matter taught, only some fragments
|
||
will remain in the memory; for the youth would then have to learn what
|
||
is worth while, and the selection between the useful and the useless
|
||
would thus have been made beforehand.
|
||
|
||
As regards the majority of students the knowledge and understanding of
|
||
the rudiments of a language would be quite sufficient for the rest of
|
||
their lives. And those who really do need this language subsequently
|
||
would thus have a foundation on which to start, should they choose to
|
||
make a more thorough study of it.
|
||
|
||
By adopting such a curriculum the necessary amount of time would be
|
||
gained for physical exercises as well as for a more intense training in
|
||
the various educational fields that have already been mentioned.
|
||
|
||
A reform of particular importance is that which ought to take place in
|
||
the present methods of teaching history. Scarcely any other people are
|
||
made to study as much of history as the Germans, and scarcely any other
|
||
people make such a bad use of their historical knowledge. If politics
|
||
means history in the making, then our way of teaching history stands
|
||
condemned by the way we have conducted our politics. But there would be
|
||
no point in bewailing the lamentable results of our political conduct
|
||
unless one is now determined to give our people a better political
|
||
education. In 99 out of 100 cases the results of our present teaching of
|
||
history are deplorable. Usually only a few dates, years of birth and
|
||
names, remain in the memory, while a knowledge of the main and clearly
|
||
defined lines of historical development is completely lacking. The
|
||
essential features which are of real significance are not taught. It is
|
||
left to the more or less bright intelligence of the individual to
|
||
discover the inner motivating urge amid the mass of dates and
|
||
chronological succession of events.
|
||
|
||
You may object as strongly as you like to this unpleasant statement. But
|
||
read with attention the speeches which our parliamentarians make during
|
||
one session alone on political problems and on questions of foreign
|
||
policy in particular. Remember that those gentlemen are, or claim to be,
|
||
the elite of the German nation and that at least a great number of them
|
||
have sat on the benches of our secondary schools and that many of them
|
||
have passed through our universities. Then you will realize how
|
||
defective the historical education of these people has been. If these
|
||
gentlemen had never studied history at all but had possessed a sound
|
||
instinct for public affairs, things would have gone better, and the
|
||
nation would have benefited greatly thereby.
|
||
|
||
The subject matter of our historical teaching must be curtailed. The
|
||
chief value of that teaching is to make the principal lines of
|
||
historical development understood. The more our historical teaching is
|
||
limited to this task, the more we may hope that it will turn out
|
||
subsequently to be of advantage to the individual and, through the
|
||
individual, to the community as a whole. For history must not be studied
|
||
merely with a view to knowing what happened in the past but as a guide
|
||
for the future, and to teach us what policy would be the best to follow
|
||
for the preservation of our own people. That is the real end; and the
|
||
teaching of history is only a means to attain this end. But here again
|
||
the means has superseded the end in our contemporary education. The goal
|
||
is completely forgotten. Do not reply that a profound study of history
|
||
demands a detailed knowledge of all these dates because otherwise we
|
||
could not fix the great lines of development. That task belongs to the
|
||
professional historians. But the average man is not a professor of
|
||
history. For him history has only one mission and that is to provide him
|
||
with such an amount of historical knowledge as is necessary in order to
|
||
enable him to form an independent opinion on the political affairs of
|
||
his own country. The man who wants to become a professor of history can
|
||
devote himself to all the details later on. Naturally he will have to
|
||
occupy himself even with the smallest details. Of course our present
|
||
teaching of history is not adequate to all this. Its scope is too vast
|
||
for the average student and too limited for the student who wishes to be
|
||
an historical expert.
|
||
|
||
Finally, it is the business of the People's State to arrange for the
|
||
writing of a world history in which the race problem will occupy a
|
||
dominant position.
|
||
|
||
To sum up: The People's State must reconstruct our system of general
|
||
instruction in such a way that it will embrace only what is essential.
|
||
Beyond this it will have to make provision for a more advanced teaching
|
||
in the various subjects for those who want to specialize in them. It
|
||
will suffice for the average individual to be acquainted with the
|
||
fundamentals of the various subjects to serve as the basis of what may
|
||
be called an all-round education. He ought to study exhaustively and in
|
||
detail only that subject in which he intends to work during the rest of
|
||
his life. A general instruction in all subjects should be obligatory,
|
||
and specialization should be left to the choice of the individual.
|
||
|
||
In this way the scholastic programme would be shortened, and thus
|
||
several school hours would be gained which could be utilized for
|
||
physical training and character training, in will-power, the capacity
|
||
for making practical judgments, decisions, etc.
|
||
|
||
The little account taken by our school training to-day, especially in
|
||
the secondary schools, of the callings that have to be followed in after
|
||
life is demonstrated by the fact that men who are destined for the same
|
||
calling in life are educated in three different kinds of schools. What
|
||
is of decisive importance is general education only and not the special
|
||
teaching. When special knowledge is needed it cannot be given in the
|
||
curriculum of our secondary schools as they stand to-day.
|
||
|
||
Therefore the People's State will one day have to abolish such
|
||
half-measures.
|
||
|
||
The second modification in the curriculum which the People's State will
|
||
have to make is the following:
|
||
|
||
It is a characteristic of our materialistic epoch that our scientific
|
||
education shows a growing emphasis on what is real and practical: such
|
||
subjects, for instance, as applied mathematics, physics, chemistry, etc.
|
||
Of course they are necessary in an age that is dominated by industrial
|
||
technology and chemistry, and where everyday life shows at least the
|
||
external manifestations of these. But it is a perilous thing to base the
|
||
general culture of a nation on the knowledge of these subjects. On the
|
||
contrary, that general culture ought always to be directed towards
|
||
ideals. It ought to be founded on the humanist disciplines and should
|
||
aim at giving only the ground work of further specialized instruction in
|
||
the various practical sciences. Otherwise we should sacrifice those
|
||
forces that are more important for the preservation of the nation than
|
||
any technical knowledge. In the historical department the study of
|
||
ancient history should not be omitted. Roman history, along general
|
||
lines, is and will remain the best teacher, not only for our own time
|
||
but also for the future. And the ideal of Hellenic culture should be
|
||
preserved for us in all its marvellous beauty. The differences between
|
||
the various peoples should not prevent us from recognizing the community
|
||
of race which unites them on a higher plane. The conflict of our times
|
||
is one that is being waged around great objectives. A civilization is
|
||
fighting for its existence. It is a civilization that is the product of
|
||
thousands of years of historical development, and the Greek as well as
|
||
the German forms part of it.
|
||
|
||
A clear-cut division must be made between general culture and the
|
||
special branches. To-day the latter threaten more and more to devote
|
||
themselves exclusively to the service of Mammon. To counterbalance this
|
||
tendency, general culture should be preserved, at least in its ideal
|
||
forms. The principle should be repeatedly emphasized, that industrial
|
||
and technical progress, trade and commerce, can flourish only so long as
|
||
a folk community exists whose general system of thought is inspired by
|
||
ideals, since that is the preliminary condition for a flourishing
|
||
development of the enterprises I have spoken of. That condition is not
|
||
created by a spirit of materialist egotism but by a spirit of
|
||
self-denial and the joy of giving one's self in the service of others.
|
||
|
||
The system of education which prevails to-day sees its principal object
|
||
in pumping into young people that knowledge which will help them to make
|
||
their way in life. This principle is expressed in the following terms:
|
||
"The young man must one day become a useful member of human society." By
|
||
that phrase they mean the ability to gain an honest daily livelihood.
|
||
The superficial training in the duties of good citizenship, which he
|
||
acquires merely as an accidental thing, has very weak foundations. For
|
||
in itself the State represents only a form, and therefore it is
|
||
difficult to train people to look upon this form as the ideal which they
|
||
will have to serve and towards which they must feel responsible. A form
|
||
can be too easily broken. But, as we have seen, the idea which people
|
||
have of the State to-day does not represent anything clearly defined.
|
||
Therefore, there is nothing but the usual stereotyped 'patriotic'
|
||
training. In the old Germany the greatest emphasis was placed on the
|
||
divine right of the small and even the smallest potentates. The way in
|
||
which this divine right was formulated and presented was never very
|
||
clever and often very stupid. Because of the large numbers of those
|
||
small potentates, it was impossible to give adequate biographical
|
||
accounts of the really great personalities that shed their lustre on the
|
||
history of the German people. The result was that the broad masses
|
||
received a very inadequate knowledge of German history. Here, too, the
|
||
great lines of development were missing.
|
||
|
||
It is evident that in such a way no real national enthusiasm could be
|
||
aroused. Our educational system proved incapable of selecting from the
|
||
general mass of our historical personages the names of a few
|
||
personalities which the German people could be proud to look upon as
|
||
their own. Thus the whole nation might have been united by the ties of a
|
||
common knowledge of this common heritage. The really important figures
|
||
in German history were not presented to the present generation. The
|
||
attention of the whole nation was not concentrated on them for the
|
||
purpose of awakening a common national spirit. From the various subjects
|
||
that were taught, those who had charge of our training seemed incapable
|
||
of selecting what redounded most to the national honour and lifting that
|
||
above the common objective level, in order to inflame the national pride
|
||
in the light of such brilliant examples. At that time such a course
|
||
would have been looked upon as rank chauvinism, which did not then have
|
||
a very pleasant savour. Pettifogging dynastic patriotism was more
|
||
acceptable and more easily tolerated than the glowing fire of a supreme
|
||
national pride. The former could be always pressed into service, whereas
|
||
the latter might one day become a dominating force. Monarchist
|
||
patriotism terminated in Associations of Veterans, whereas passionate
|
||
national patriotism might have opened a road which would be difficult to
|
||
determine. This national passion is like a highly tempered thoroughbred
|
||
who is discriminate about the sort of rider he will tolerate in the
|
||
saddle. No wonder that most people preferred to shirk such a danger.
|
||
Nobody seemed to think it possible that one day a war might come which
|
||
would put the mettle of this kind of patriotism to the test, in
|
||
artillery bombardment and waves of attacks with poison gas. But when it
|
||
did come our lack of this patriotic passion was avenged in a terrible
|
||
way. None were very enthusiastic about dying for their imperial and
|
||
royal sovereigns; while on the other hand the 'Nation' was not
|
||
recognized by the greater number of the soldiers.
|
||
|
||
Since the revolution broke out in Germany and the monarchist patriotism
|
||
was therefore extinguished, the purpose of teaching history was nothing
|
||
more than to add to the stock of objective knowledge. The present State
|
||
has no use for patriotic enthusiasm; but it will never obtain what it
|
||
really desires. For if dynastic patriotism failed to produce a supreme
|
||
power of resistance at a time when the principle of nationalism
|
||
dominated, it will be still less possible to arouse republican
|
||
enthusiasm. There can be no doubt that the German people would not have
|
||
stood on the field of battle for four and a half years to fight under
|
||
the battle slogan 'For the Republic,' and least of all those who created
|
||
this grand institution.
|
||
|
||
In reality this Republic has been allowed to exist undisturbed only by
|
||
grace of its readiness and its promise to all and sundry, to pay tribute
|
||
and reparations to the stranger and to put its signature to any kind of
|
||
territorial renunciation. The rest of the world finds it sympathetic,
|
||
just as a weakling is always more pleasing to those who want to bend him
|
||
to their own uses than is a man who is made of harder metal. But the
|
||
fact that the enemy likes this form of government is the worst kind of
|
||
condemnation. They love the German Republic and tolerate its existence
|
||
because no better instrument could be found which would help them to
|
||
keep our people in slavery. It is to this fact alone that this
|
||
magnanimous institution owes its survival. And that is why it can
|
||
renounce any REAL system of national education and can feel satisfied
|
||
when the heroes of the REICH banner shout their hurrahs, but in reality
|
||
these same heroes would scamper away like rabbits if called upon to
|
||
defend that banner with their blood.
|
||
|
||
The People's State will have to fight for its existence. It will not
|
||
gain or secure this existence by signing documents like that of the
|
||
Dawes Plan. But for its existence and defence it will need precisely
|
||
those things which our present system believes can be repudiated. The
|
||
more worthy its form and its inner national being. the greater will be
|
||
the envy and opposition of its adversaries. The best defence will not be
|
||
in the arms it possesses but in its citizens. Bastions of fortresses
|
||
will not save it, but the living wall of its men and women, filled with
|
||
an ardent love for their country and a passionate spirit of national
|
||
patriotism.
|
||
|
||
Therefore the third point which will have to be considered in relation
|
||
to our educational system is the following:
|
||
|
||
The People's State must realize that the sciences may also be made a
|
||
means of promoting a spirit of pride in the nation. Not only the history
|
||
of the world but the history of civilization as a whole must be taught
|
||
in the light of this principle. An inventor must appear great not only
|
||
as an inventor but also, and even more so, as a member of the nation.
|
||
The admiration aroused by the contemplation of a great achievement must
|
||
be transformed into a feeling of pride and satisfaction that a man of
|
||
one's own race has been chosen to accomplish it. But out of the
|
||
abundance of great names in German history the greatest will have to be
|
||
selected and presented to our young generation in such a way as to
|
||
become solid pillars of strength to support the national spirit.
|
||
|
||
The subject matter ought to be systematically organized from the
|
||
standpoint of this principle. And the teaching should be so orientated
|
||
that the boy or girl, after leaving school, will not be a semi-pacifist,
|
||
a democrat or of something else of that kind, but a whole-hearted
|
||
German. So that this national feeling be sincere from the very
|
||
beginning, and not a mere pretence, the following fundamental and
|
||
inflexible principle should be impressed on the young brain while it is
|
||
yet malleable: The man who loves his nation can prove the sincerity of
|
||
this sentiment only by being ready to make sacrifices for the nation's
|
||
welfare. There is no such thing as a national sentiment which is
|
||
directed towards personal interests. And there is no such thing as a
|
||
nationalism that embraces only certain classes. Hurrahing proves nothing
|
||
and does not confer the right to call oneself national if behind that
|
||
shout there is no sincere preoccupation for the conservation of the
|
||
nation's well-being. One can be proud of one's people only if there is
|
||
no class left of which one need to be ashamed. When one half of a nation
|
||
is sunk in misery and worn out by hard distress, or even depraved or
|
||
degenerate, that nation presents such an unattractive picture that
|
||
nobody can feel proud to belong to it. It is only when a nation is sound
|
||
in all its members, physically and morally, that the joy of belonging to
|
||
it can properly be intensified to the supreme feeling which we call
|
||
national pride. But this pride, in its highest form, can be felt only by
|
||
those who know the greatness of their nation.
|
||
|
||
The spirit of nationalism and a feeling for social justice must be fused
|
||
into one sentiment in the hearts of the youth. Then a day will come when
|
||
a nation of citizens will arise which will be welded together through a
|
||
common love and a common pride that shall be invincible and
|
||
indestructible for ever.
|
||
|
||
The dread of chauvinism, which is a symptom of our time, is a sign of
|
||
its impotence. Since our epoch not only lacks everything in the nature
|
||
of exuberant energy but even finds such a manifestation disagreeable,
|
||
fate will never elect it for the accomplishment of any great deeds. For
|
||
the greatest changes that have taken place on this earth would have been
|
||
inconceivable if they had not been inspired by ardent and even
|
||
hysterical passions, but only by the bourgeois virtues of peacefulness
|
||
and order.
|
||
|
||
One thing is certain: our world is facing a great revolution. The only
|
||
question is whether the outcome will be propitious for the Aryan portion
|
||
of mankind or whether the everlasting Jew will profit by it.
|
||
|
||
By educating the young generation along the right lines, the People's
|
||
State will have to see to it that a generation of mankind is formed
|
||
which will be adequate to this supreme combat that will decide the
|
||
destinies of the world.
|
||
|
||
That nation will conquer which will be the first to take this road.
|
||
|
||
The whole organization of education and training which the People's
|
||
State is to build up must take as its crowning task the work of
|
||
instilling into the hearts and brains of the youth entrusted to it the
|
||
racial instinct and understanding of the racial idea. No boy or girl
|
||
must leave school without having attained a clear insight into the
|
||
meaning of racial purity and the importance of maintaining the racial
|
||
blood unadulterated. Thus the first indispensable condition for the
|
||
preservation of our race will have been established and thus the future
|
||
cultural progress of our people will be assured.
|
||
|
||
For in the last analysis all physical and mental training would be in
|
||
vain unless it served an entity which is ready and determined to carry
|
||
on its own existence and maintain its own characteristic qualities.
|
||
|
||
If it were otherwise, something would result which we Germans have cause
|
||
to regret already, without perhaps having hitherto recognized the extent
|
||
of the tragic calamity. We should be doomed to remain also in the future
|
||
only manure for civilization. And that not in the banal sense of the
|
||
contemporary bourgeois mind, which sees in a lost fellow member of our
|
||
people only a lost citizen, but in a sense which we should have
|
||
painfully to recognize: namely, that our racial blood would be destined
|
||
to disappear. By continually mixing with other races we might lift them
|
||
from their former lower level of civilization to a higher grade; but we
|
||
ourselves should descend for ever from the heights we had reached.
|
||
|
||
Finally, from the racial standpoint this training also must find its
|
||
culmination in the military service. The term of military service is to
|
||
be a final stage of the normal training which the average German
|
||
receives.
|
||
|
||
While the People's State attaches the greatest importance to physical
|
||
and mental training, it has also to consider, and no less importantly,
|
||
the task of selecting men for the service of the State itself. This
|
||
important matter is passed over lightly at the present time. Generally
|
||
the children of parents who are for the time being in higher situations
|
||
are in their turn considered worthy of a higher education. Here talent
|
||
plays a subordinate part. But talent can be estimated only relatively.
|
||
Though in general culture he may be inferior to the city child, a
|
||
peasant boy may be more talented than the son of a family that has
|
||
occupied high positions through many generations. But the superior
|
||
culture of the city child has in itself nothing to do with a greater or
|
||
lesser degree of talent; for this culture has its roots in the more
|
||
copious mass of impressions which arise from the more varied education
|
||
and the surroundings among which this child lives. If the intelligent
|
||
son of peasant parents were educated from childhood in similar
|
||
surroundings his intellectual accomplishments would be quite otherwise.
|
||
In our day there is only one sphere where the family in which a person
|
||
has been born means less than his innate gifts. That is the sphere of
|
||
art. Here, where a person cannot just 'learn,' but must have innate
|
||
gifts that later on may undergo a more or less happy development (in the
|
||
sense of a wise development of what is already there), money and
|
||
parental property are of no account. This is a good proof that genius is
|
||
not necessarily connected with the higher social strata or with wealth.
|
||
Not rarely the greatest artists come from poor families. And many a boy
|
||
from the country village has eventually become a celebrated master.
|
||
|
||
It does not say much for the mental acumen of our time that advantage is
|
||
not taken of this truth for the sake of our whole intellectual life. The
|
||
opinion is advanced that this principle, though undoubtedly valid in the
|
||
field of art, has not the same validity in regard to what are called the
|
||
applied sciences. It is true that a man can be trained to a certain
|
||
amount of mechanical dexterity, just as a poodle can be taught
|
||
incredible tricks by a clever master. But such training does not bring
|
||
the animal to use his intelligence in order to carry out those tricks.
|
||
And the same holds good in regard to man. It is possible to teach men,
|
||
irrespective of talent or no talent, to go through certain scientific
|
||
exercises, but in such cases the results are quite as inanimate and
|
||
mechanical as in the case of the animal. It would even be possible to
|
||
force a person of mediocre intelligence, by means of a severe course of
|
||
intellectual drilling, to acquire more than the average amount of
|
||
knowledge; but that knowledge would remain sterile. The result would be
|
||
a man who might be a walking dictionary of knowledge but who will fail
|
||
miserably on every critical occasion in life and at every juncture where
|
||
vital decisions have to be taken. Such people need to be drilled
|
||
specially for every new and even most insignificant task and will never
|
||
be capable of contributing in the least to the general progress of
|
||
mankind. Knowledge that is merely drilled into people can at best
|
||
qualify them to fill government positions under our present regime.
|
||
|
||
It goes without saying that, among the sum total of individuals who make
|
||
up a nation, gifted people are always to be found in every sphere of
|
||
life. It is also quite natural that the value of knowledge will be all
|
||
the greater the more vitally the dead mass of learning is animated by
|
||
the innate talent of the individual who possesses it. Creative work in
|
||
this field can be done only through the marriage of knowledge and
|
||
talent.
|
||
|
||
One example will suffice to show how much our contemporary world is at
|
||
fault in this matter. From time to time our illustrated papers publish,
|
||
for the edification of the German philistine, the news that in some
|
||
quarter or other of the globe, and for the first time in that locality,
|
||
a Negro has become a lawyer, a teacher, a pastor, even a grand opera
|
||
tenor or something else of that kind. While the bourgeois blockhead
|
||
stares with amazed admiration at the notice that tells him how
|
||
marvellous are the achievements of our modern educational technique, the
|
||
more cunning Jew sees in this fact a new proof to be utilized for the
|
||
theory with which he wants to infect the public, namely that all men are
|
||
equal. It does not dawn on the murky bourgeois mind that the fact which
|
||
is published for him is a sin against reason itself, that it is an act
|
||
of criminal insanity to train a being who is only an anthropoid by birth
|
||
until the pretence can be made that he has been turned into a lawyer;
|
||
while, on the other hand, millions who belong to the most civilized
|
||
races have to remain in positions which are unworthy of their cultural
|
||
level. The bourgeois mind does not realize that it is a sin against the
|
||
will of the eternal Creator to allow hundreds of thousands of highly
|
||
gifted people to remain floundering in the swamp of proletarian misery
|
||
while Hottentots and Zulus are drilled to fill positions in the
|
||
intellectual professions. For here we have the product only of a
|
||
drilling technique, just as in the case of the performing dog. If the
|
||
same amount of care and effort were applied among intelligent races each
|
||
individual would become a thousand times more capable in such matters.
|
||
|
||
This state of affairs would become intolerable if a day should arrive
|
||
when it no longer refers to exceptional cases. But the situation is
|
||
already intolerable where talent and natural gifts are not taken as
|
||
decisive factors in qualifying for the right to a higher education. It
|
||
is indeed intolerable to think that year after year hundreds of
|
||
thousands of young people without a single vestige of talent are deemed
|
||
worthy of a higher education, while other hundreds of thousands who
|
||
possess high natural gifts have to go without any sort of higher
|
||
schooling at all. The practical loss thus caused to the nation is
|
||
incalculable. If the number of important discoveries which have been
|
||
made in America has grown considerably in recent years one of the
|
||
reasons is that the number of gifted persons belonging to the lowest
|
||
social classes who were given a higher education in that country is
|
||
proportionately much larger than in Europe.
|
||
|
||
A stock of knowledge packed into the brain will not suffice for the
|
||
making of discoveries. What counts here is only that knowledge which is
|
||
illuminated by natural talent. But with us at the present time no value
|
||
is placed on such gifts. Only good school reports count.
|
||
|
||
Here is another educative work that is waiting for the People's State to
|
||
do. It will not be its task to assure a dominant influence to a certain
|
||
social class already existing, but it will be its duty to attract the
|
||
most competent brains in the total mass of the nation and promote them
|
||
to place and honour. It is not merely the duty of the State to give to
|
||
the average child a certain definite education in the primary school,
|
||
but it is also its duty to open the road to talent in the proper
|
||
direction. And above all, it must open the doors of the higher schools
|
||
under the State to talent of every sort, no matter in what social class
|
||
it may appear. This is an imperative necessity; for thus alone will it
|
||
be possible to develop a talented body of public leaders from the class
|
||
which represents learning that in itself is only a dead mass.
|
||
|
||
There is still another reason why the State should provide for this
|
||
situation. Our intellectual class, particularly in Germany, is so shut
|
||
up in itself and fossilized that it lacks living contact with the
|
||
classes beneath it. Two evil consequences result from this: First, the
|
||
intellectual class neither understands nor sympathizes with the broad
|
||
masses. It has been so long cut off from all connection with them that
|
||
it cannot now have the necessary psychological ties that would enable it
|
||
to understand them. It has become estranged from the people. Secondly,
|
||
the intellectual class lacks the necessary will-power; for this faculty
|
||
is always weaker in cultivated circles, which live in seclusion, than
|
||
among the primitive masses of the people. God knows we Germans have
|
||
never been lacking in abundant scientific culture, but we have always
|
||
had a considerable lack of will-power and the capacity for making
|
||
decisions. For example, the more 'intellectual' our statesmen have been
|
||
the more lacking they have been, for the most part, in practical
|
||
achievement. Our political preparation and our technical equipment for
|
||
the world war were defective, certainly not because the brains governing
|
||
the nation were too little educated, but because the men who directed
|
||
our public affairs were over-educated, filled to over-flowing with
|
||
knowledge and intelligence, yet without any sound instinct and simply
|
||
without energy, or any spirit of daring. It was our nation's tragedy to
|
||
have to fight for its existence under a Chancellor who was a
|
||
dillydallying philosopher. If instead of a Bethmann von Hollweg we had
|
||
had a rough man of the people as our leader the heroic blood of the
|
||
common grenadier would not have been shed in vain. The exaggeratedly
|
||
intellectual material out of which our leaders were made proved to be
|
||
the best ally of the scoundrels who carried out the November revolution.
|
||
These intellectuals safeguarded the national wealth in a miserly
|
||
fashion, instead of launching it forth and risking it, and thus they set
|
||
the conditions on which the others won success.
|
||
|
||
Here the Catholic Church presents an instructive example. Clerical
|
||
celibacy forces the Church to recruit its priests not from their own
|
||
ranks but progressively from the masses of the people. Yet there are not
|
||
many who recognize the significance of celibacy in this relation. But
|
||
therein lies the cause of the inexhaustible vigour which characterizes
|
||
that ancient institution. For by thus unceasingly recruiting the
|
||
ecclesiastical dignitaries from the lower classes of the people, the
|
||
Church is enabled not only to maintain the contact of instinctive
|
||
understanding with the masses of the population but also to assure
|
||
itself of always being able to draw upon that fund of energy which is
|
||
present in this form only among the popular masses. Hence the surprising
|
||
youthfulness of that gigantic organism, its mental flexibility and its
|
||
iron will-power.
|
||
|
||
It will be the task of the Peoples' State so to organize and administer
|
||
its educational system that the existing intellectual class will be
|
||
constantly furnished with a supply of fresh blood from beneath. From the
|
||
bulk of the nation the State must sift out with careful scrutiny those
|
||
persons who are endowed with natural talents and see that they are
|
||
employed in the service of the community. For neither the State itself
|
||
nor the various departments of State exist to furnish revenues for
|
||
members of a special class, but to fulfil the tasks allotted to them.
|
||
This will be possible, however, only if the State trains individuals
|
||
specially for these offices. Such individuals must have the necessary
|
||
fundamental capabilities and will-power. The principle does not hold
|
||
true only in regard to the civil service but also in regard to all those
|
||
who are to take part in the intellectual and moral leadership of the
|
||
people, no matter in what sphere they may be employed. The greatness of
|
||
a people is partly dependent on the condition that it must succeed in
|
||
training the best brains for those branches of the public service for
|
||
which they show a special natural aptitude and in placing them in the
|
||
offices where they can do their best work for the good of the community.
|
||
If two nations of equal strength and quality engage in a mutual conflict
|
||
that nation will come out victorious which has entrusted its
|
||
intellectual and moral leadership to its best talents and that nation
|
||
will go under whose government represents only a common food trough for
|
||
privileged groups or classes and where the inner talents of its
|
||
individual members are not availed of.
|
||
|
||
Of course such a reform seems impossible in the world as it is to-day.
|
||
The objection will at once be raised, that it is too much to expect from
|
||
the favourite son of a highly-placed civil servant, for instance, that
|
||
he shall work with his hands simply because somebody else whose parents
|
||
belong to the working-class seems more capable for a job in the civil
|
||
service. That argument may be valid as long as manual work is looked
|
||
upon in the same way as it is looked upon to-day. Hence the Peoples'
|
||
State will have to take up an attitude towards the appreciation of
|
||
manual labour which will be fundamentally different from that which now
|
||
exists. If necessary, it will have to organize a persistent system of
|
||
teaching which will aim at abolishing the present-day stupid habit of
|
||
looking down on physical labour as an occupation to be ashamed of.
|
||
|
||
The individual will have to be valued, not by the class of work he does
|
||
but by the way in which he does it and by its usefulness to the
|
||
community. This statement may sound monstrous in an epoch when the most
|
||
brainless columnist on a newspaper staff is more esteemed than the most
|
||
expert mechanic, merely because the former pushes a pen. But, as I have
|
||
said, this false valuation does not correspond to the nature of things.
|
||
It has been artificially introduced, and there was a time when it did
|
||
not exist at all. The present unnatural state of affairs is one of those
|
||
general morbid phenomena that have arisen from our materialistic epoch.
|
||
Fundamentally every kind of work has a double value; the one material,
|
||
the other ideal. The material value depends on the practical importance
|
||
of the work to the life of the community. The greater the number of the
|
||
population who benefit from the work, directly or indirectly, the higher
|
||
will be its material value. This evaluation is expressed in the material
|
||
recompense which the individual receives for his labour. In
|
||
contradistinction to this purely material value there is the ideal
|
||
value. Here the work performed is not judged by its material importance
|
||
but by the degree to which it answers a necessity. Certainly the
|
||
material utility of an invention may be greater than that of the service
|
||
rendered by an everyday workman; but it is also certain that the
|
||
community needs each of those small daily services just as much as the
|
||
greater services. From the material point of view a distinction can be
|
||
made in the evaluation of different kinds of work according to their
|
||
utility to the community, and this distinction is expressed by the
|
||
differentiation in the scale of recompense; but on the ideal or abstract
|
||
plans all workmen become equal the moment each strives to do his best in
|
||
his own field, no matter what that field may be. It is on this that a
|
||
man's value must be estimated, and not on the amount of recompense
|
||
received.
|
||
|
||
In a reasonably directed State care must be taken that each individual
|
||
is given the kind of work which corresponds to his capabilities. In
|
||
other words, people will be trained for the positions indicated by their
|
||
natural endowments; but these endowments or faculties are innate and
|
||
cannot be acquired by any amount of training, being a gift from Nature
|
||
and not merited by men. Therefore, the way in which men are generally
|
||
esteemed by their fellow-citizens must not be according to the kind of
|
||
work they do, because that has been more or less assigned to the
|
||
individual. Seeing that the kind of work in which the individual is
|
||
employed is to be accounted to his inborn gifts and the resultant
|
||
training which he has received from the community, he will have to be
|
||
judged by the way in which he performs this work entrusted to him by the
|
||
community. For the work which the individual performs is not the purpose
|
||
of his existence, but only a means. His real purpose in life is to
|
||
better himself and raise himself to a higher level as a human being; but
|
||
this he can only do in and through the community whose cultural life he
|
||
shares. And this community must always exist on the foundations on which
|
||
the State is based. He ought to contribute to the conservation of those
|
||
foundations. Nature determines the form of this contribution. It is the
|
||
duty of the individual to return to the community, zealously and
|
||
honestly, what the community has given him. He who does this deserves
|
||
the highest respect and esteem. Material remuneration may be given to
|
||
him whose work has a corresponding utility for the community; but the
|
||
ideal recompense must lie in the esteem to which everybody has a claim
|
||
who serves his people with whatever powers Nature has bestowed upon him
|
||
and which have been developed by the training he has received from the
|
||
national community. Then it will no longer be dishonourable to be an
|
||
honest craftsman; but it will be a cause of disgrace to be an
|
||
inefficient State official, wasting God's day and filching daily bread
|
||
from an honest public. Then it will be looked upon as quite natural that
|
||
positions should not be given to persons who of their very nature are
|
||
incapable of filling them.
|
||
|
||
Furthermore, this personal efficiency will be the sole criterion of the
|
||
right to take part on an equal juridical footing in general civil
|
||
affairs.
|
||
|
||
The present epoch is working out its own ruin. It introduces universal
|
||
suffrage, chatters about equal rights but can find no foundation for
|
||
this equality. It considers the material wage as the expression of a
|
||
man's value and thus destroys the basis of the noblest kind of equality
|
||
that can exist. For equality cannot and does not depend on the work a
|
||
man does, but only on the manner in which each one does the particular
|
||
work allotted to him. Thus alone will mere natural chance be set aside
|
||
in determining the work of a man and thus only does the individual
|
||
become the artificer of his own social worth.
|
||
|
||
At the present time, when whole groups of people estimate each other's
|
||
value only by the size of the salaries which they respectively receive,
|
||
there will be no understanding of all this. But that is no reason why we
|
||
should cease to champion those ideas. Quite the opposite: in an epoch
|
||
which is inwardly diseased and decaying anyone who would heal it must
|
||
have the courage first to lay bare the real roots of the disease. And
|
||
the National Socialist Movement must take that duty on its shoulders. It
|
||
will have to lift its voice above the heads of the small bourgeoisie and
|
||
rally together and co-ordinate all those popular forces which are ready
|
||
to become the protagonists of a new WELTANSCHAUUNG.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Of course the objection will be made that in general it is difficult to
|
||
differentiate between the material and ideal values of work and that the
|
||
lower prestige which is attached to physical labour is due to the fact
|
||
that smaller wages are paid for that kind of work. It will be said that
|
||
the lower wage is in its turn the reason why the manual worker has less
|
||
chance to participate in the culture of the nation; so that the ideal
|
||
side of human culture is less open to him because it has nothing to do
|
||
with his daily activities. It may be added that the reluctance to do
|
||
physical work is justified by the fact that, on account of the small
|
||
income, the cultural level of manual labourers must naturally be low,
|
||
and that this in turn is a justification for the lower estimation in
|
||
which manual labour is generally held.
|
||
|
||
There is quite a good deal of truth in all this. But that is the very
|
||
reason why we ought to see that in the future there should not be such a
|
||
wide difference in the scale of remuneration. Don't say that under such
|
||
conditions poorer work would be done. It would be the saddest symptom of
|
||
decadence if finer intellectual work could be obtained only through the
|
||
stimulus of higher payment. If that point of view had ruled the world up
|
||
to now humanity would never have acquired its greatest scientific and
|
||
cultural heritage. For all the greatest inventions, the greatest
|
||
discoveries, the most profoundly revolutionary scientific work, and the
|
||
most magnificent monuments of human culture, were never given to the
|
||
world under the impulse or compulsion of money. Quite the contrary: not
|
||
rarely was their origin associated with a renunciation of the worldly
|
||
pleasures that wealth can purchase.
|
||
|
||
It may be that money has become the one power that governs life to-day.
|
||
Yet a time will come when men will again bow to higher gods. Much that
|
||
we have to-day owes its existence to the desire for money and property;
|
||
but there is very little among all this which would leave the world
|
||
poorer by its lack.
|
||
|
||
It is also one of the aims before our movement to hold out the prospect
|
||
of a time when the individual will be given what he needs for the
|
||
purposes of his life and it will be a time in which, on the other hand,
|
||
the principle will be upheld that man does not live for material
|
||
enjoyment alone. This principle will find expression in a wiser scale of
|
||
wages and salaries which will enable everyone, including the humblest
|
||
workman who fulfils his duties conscientiously, to live an honourable
|
||
and decent life both as a man and as a citizen. Let it not be said that
|
||
this is merely a visionary ideal, that this world would never tolerate
|
||
it in practice and that of itself it is impossible to attain.
|
||
|
||
Even we are not so simple as to believe that there will ever be an age
|
||
in which there will be no drawbacks. But that does not release us from
|
||
the obligation to fight for the removal of the defects which we have
|
||
recognized, to overcome the shortcomings and to strive towards the
|
||
ideal. In any case the hard reality of the facts to be faced will always
|
||
place only too many limits to our aspirations. But that is precisely why
|
||
man must strive again and again to serve the ultimate aim and no
|
||
failures must induce him to renounce his intentions, just as we cannot
|
||
spurn the sway of justice because mistakes creep into the administration
|
||
of the law, and just as we cannot despise medical science because, in
|
||
spite of it, there will always be diseases.
|
||
|
||
Man should take care not to have too low an estimate of the power of an
|
||
ideal. If there are some who may feel disheartened over the present
|
||
conditions, and if they happen to have served as soldiers, I would
|
||
remind them of the time when their heroism was the most convincing
|
||
example of the power inherent in ideal motives. It was not preoccupation
|
||
about their daily bread that led men to sacrifice their lives, but the
|
||
love of their country, the faith which they had in its greatness, and an
|
||
all round feeling for the honour of the nation. Only after the German
|
||
people had become estranged from these ideals, to follow the material
|
||
promises offered by the Revolution, only after they threw away their
|
||
arms to take up the rucksack, only then--instead of entering an earthly
|
||
paradise--did they sink into the purgatory of universal contempt and at
|
||
the same time universal want.
|
||
|
||
That is why we must face the calculators of the materialist Republic
|
||
with faith in an idealist REICH.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
CHAPTER III
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
CITIZENS AND SUBJECTS OF THE STATE
|
||
|
||
|
||
The institution that is now erroneously called the State generally
|
||
classifies people only into two groups: citizens and aliens. Citizens
|
||
are all those who possess full civic rights, either by reason of their
|
||
birth or by an act of naturalization. Aliens are those who enjoy the
|
||
same rights in some other State. Between these two categories there are
|
||
certain beings who resemble a sort of meteoric phenomena. They are
|
||
people who have no citizenship in any State and consequently no civic
|
||
rights anywhere.
|
||
|
||
In most cases nowadays a person acquires civic rights by being born
|
||
within the frontiers of a State. The race or nationality to which he may
|
||
belong plays no role whatsoever. The child of a Negro who once lived in
|
||
one of the German protectorates and now takes up his residence in
|
||
Germany automatically becomes a 'German Citizen' in the eyes of the
|
||
world. In the same way the child of any Jew, Pole, African or Asian may
|
||
automatically become a German Citizen.
|
||
|
||
Besides naturalization that is acquired through the fact of having been
|
||
born within the confines of a State there exists another kind of
|
||
naturalization which can be acquired later. This process is subject to
|
||
various preliminary requirements. For example one condition is that, if
|
||
possible, the applicant must not be a burglar or a common street thug.
|
||
It is required of him that his political attitude is not such as to give
|
||
cause for uneasiness; in other words he must be a harmless simpleton in
|
||
politics. It is required that he shall not be a burden to the State of
|
||
which he wishes to become a citizen. In this realistic epoch of ours
|
||
this last condition naturally only means that he must not be a financial
|
||
burden. If the affairs of the candidate are such that it appears likely
|
||
he will turn out to be a good taxpayer, that is a very important
|
||
consideration and will help him to obtain civic rights all the more
|
||
rapidly.
|
||
|
||
The question of race plays no part at all.
|
||
|
||
The whole process of acquiring civic rights is not very different from
|
||
that of being admitted to membership of an automobile club, for
|
||
instance. A person files his application. It is examined. It is
|
||
sanctioned. And one day the man receives a card which informs him that
|
||
he has become a citizen. The information is given in an amusing way. An
|
||
applicant who has hitherto been a Zulu or Kaffir is told: "By these
|
||
presents you are now become a German Citizen."
|
||
|
||
The President of the State can perform this piece of magic. What God
|
||
Himself could not do is achieved by some Theophrastus Paracelsus (Note 16)
|
||
of a civil servant through a mere twirl of the hand. Nothing but a stroke
|
||
of the pen, and a Mongolian slave is forthwith turned into a real
|
||
German. Not only is no question asked regarding the race to which the
|
||
new citizen belongs; even the matter of his physical health is not
|
||
inquired into. His flesh may be corrupted with syphilis; but he will
|
||
still be welcome in the State as it exists to-day so long as he may not
|
||
become a financial burden or a political danger.
|
||
|
||
[Note 16. The last and most famous of the medieval alchemists. He was born
|
||
at Basleabout the year 1490 and died at Salzburg in 1541. He taught that
|
||
all metals could be transmuted through the action of one primary element
|
||
common to them all. This element he called ALCAHEST. If it could be found
|
||
it would proveto be at once the philosopher's stone, the universal
|
||
medicine and their resistible solvent. There are many aspects of his
|
||
teaching which are now looked upon as by no means so fantastic as they
|
||
were considered in his own time.]
|
||
|
||
In this way, year after year, those organisms which we call States take
|
||
up poisonous matter which they can hardly ever overcome.
|
||
|
||
Another point of distinction between a citizen and an alien is that the
|
||
former is admitted to all public offices, that he may possibly have to
|
||
do military service and that in return he is permitted to take a passive
|
||
or active part at public elections. Those are his chief privileges. For
|
||
in regard to personal rights and personal liberty the alien enjoys the
|
||
same amount of protection as the citizen, and frequently even more.
|
||
Anyhow that is how it happens in our present German Republic.
|
||
|
||
I realize fully that nobody likes to hear these things. But it would be
|
||
difficult to find anything more illogical or more insane than our
|
||
contemporary laws in regard to State citizenship.
|
||
|
||
At present there exists one State which manifests at least some modest
|
||
attempts that show a better appreciation of how things ought to be done
|
||
in this matter. It is not, however, in our model German Republic but in
|
||
the U.S.A. that efforts are made to conform at least partly to the
|
||
counsels of commonsense. By refusing immigrants to enter there if they
|
||
are in a bad state of health, and by excluding certain races from the
|
||
right to become naturalized as citizens, they have begun to introduce
|
||
principles similar to those on which we wish to ground the People's
|
||
State.
|
||
|
||
The People's State will classify its population in three groups:
|
||
Citizens, subjects of the State, and aliens.
|
||
|
||
The principle is that birth within the confines of the State gives only
|
||
the status of a subject. It does not carry with it the right to fill any
|
||
position under the State or to participate in political life, such as
|
||
taking an active or passive part in elections. Another principle is that
|
||
the race and nationality of every subject of the State will have to be
|
||
proved. A subject is at any time free to cease being a subject and to
|
||
become a citizen of that country to which he belongs in virtue of his
|
||
nationality. The only difference between an alien and a subject of the
|
||
State is that the former is a citizen of another country.
|
||
|
||
The young boy or girl who is of German nationality and is a subject of
|
||
the German State is bound to complete the period of school education
|
||
which is obligatory for every German. Thereby he submits to the system
|
||
of training which will make him conscious of his race and a member of
|
||
the folk-community. Then he has to fulfil all those requirements laid
|
||
down by the State in regard to physical training after he has left
|
||
school; and finally he enters the army. The training in the army is of a
|
||
general kind. It must be given to each individual German and will render
|
||
him competent to fulfil the physical and mental requirements of military
|
||
service. The rights of citizenship shall be conferred on every young man
|
||
whose health and character have been certified as good, after having
|
||
completed his period of military service. This act of inauguration in
|
||
citizenship shall be a solemn ceremony. And the diploma conferring the
|
||
rights of citizenship will be preserved by the young man as the most
|
||
precious testimonial of his whole life. It entitles him to exercise all
|
||
the rights of a citizen and to enjoy all the privileges attached
|
||
thereto. For the State must draw a sharp line of distinction between
|
||
those who, as members of the nation, are the foundation and the support
|
||
of its existence and greatness, and those who are domiciled in the State
|
||
simply as earners of their livelihood there.
|
||
|
||
On the occasion of conferring a diploma of citizenship the new citizen
|
||
must take a solemn oath of loyalty to the national community and the
|
||
State. This diploma must be a bond which unites together all the various
|
||
classes and sections of the nation. It shall be a greater honour to be a
|
||
citizen of this REICH, even as a street-sweeper, than to be the King of
|
||
a foreign State.
|
||
|
||
The citizen has privileges which are not accorded to the alien. He is
|
||
the master in the REICH. But this high honour has also its obligations.
|
||
Those who show themselves without personal honour or character, or
|
||
common criminals, or traitors to the fatherland, can at any time be
|
||
deprived of the rights of citizenship. Therewith they become merely
|
||
subjects of the State.
|
||
|
||
The German girl is a subject of the State but will become a citizen when
|
||
she marries. At the same time those women who earn their livelihood
|
||
independently have the right to acquire citizenship if they are German
|
||
subjects.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
CHAPTER IV
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
PERSONALITY AND THE IDEAL OF THE PEOPLE'S STATE
|
||
|
||
|
||
If the principal duty of the National Socialist People's State be to
|
||
educate and promote the existence of those who are the material out of
|
||
which the State is formed, it will not be sufficient to promote those
|
||
racial elements as such, educate them and finally train them for
|
||
practical life, but the State must also adapt its own organization to
|
||
meet the demands of this task.
|
||
|
||
It would be absurd to appraise a man's worth by the race to which he
|
||
belongs and at the same time to make war against the Marxist principle,
|
||
that all men are equal, without being determined to pursue our own
|
||
principle to its ultimate consequences. If we admit the significance of
|
||
blood, that is to say, if we recognize the race as the fundamental
|
||
element on which all life is based, we shall have to apply to the
|
||
individual the logical consequences of this principle. In general I must
|
||
estimate the worth of nations differently, on the basis of the different
|
||
races from which they spring, and I must also differentiate in
|
||
estimating the worth of the individual within his own race. The
|
||
principle, that one people is not the same as another, applies also to
|
||
the individual members of a national community. No one brain, for
|
||
instance, is equal to another; because the constituent elements
|
||
belonging to the same blood vary in a thousand subtle details, though
|
||
they are fundamentally of the same quality.
|
||
|
||
The first consequence of this fact is comparatively simple. It demands
|
||
that those elements within the folk-community which show the best racial
|
||
qualities ought to be encouraged more than the others and especially
|
||
they should be encouraged to increase and multiply.
|
||
|
||
This task is comparatively simple because it can be recognized and
|
||
carried out almost mechanically. It is much more difficult to select
|
||
from among a whole multitude of people all those who actually possess
|
||
the highest intellectual and spiritual characteristics and assign them
|
||
to that sphere of influence which not only corresponds to their
|
||
outstanding talents but in which their activities will above all things
|
||
be of benefit to the nation. This selection according to capacity and
|
||
efficiency cannot be effected in a mechanical way. It is a work which
|
||
can be accomplished only through the permanent struggle of everyday life
|
||
itself.
|
||
|
||
A WELTANSCHAUUNG which repudiates the democratic principle of the rule
|
||
of the masses and aims at giving this world to the best people--that
|
||
is, to the highest quality of mankind--must also apply that same
|
||
aristocratic postulate to the individuals within the folk-community. It
|
||
must take care that the positions of leadership and highest influence
|
||
are given to the best men. Hence it is not based on the idea of the
|
||
majority, but on that of personality.
|
||
|
||
Anyone who believes that the People's National Socialist State should
|
||
distinguish itself from the other States only mechanically, as it were,
|
||
through the better construction of its economic life--thanks to a
|
||
better equilibrium between poverty and riches, or to the extension to
|
||
broader masses of the power to determine the economic process, or to a
|
||
fairer wage, or to the elimination of vast differences in the scale of
|
||
salaries--anyone who thinks this understands only the superficial
|
||
features of our movement and has not the least idea of what we mean when
|
||
we speak of our WELTANSCHAUUNG. All these features just mentioned could
|
||
not in the least guarantee us a lasting existence and certainly would be
|
||
no warranty of greatness. A nation that could content itself with
|
||
external reforms would not have the slightest chance of success in the
|
||
general struggle for life among the nations of the world. A movement
|
||
that would confine its mission to such adjustments, which are certainly
|
||
right and equitable, would effect no far-reaching or profound reform in
|
||
the existing order. The whole effect of such measures would be limited
|
||
to externals. They would not furnish the nation with that moral armament
|
||
which alone will enable it effectively to overcome the weaknesses from
|
||
which we are suffering to-day.
|
||
|
||
In order to elucidate this point of view it may be worth while to glance
|
||
once again at the real origins and causes of the cultural evolution of
|
||
mankind.
|
||
|
||
The first step which visibly brought mankind away from the animal world
|
||
was that which led to the first invention. The invention itself owes its
|
||
origin to the ruses and stratagems which man employed to assist him in
|
||
the struggle with other creatures for his existence and often to provide
|
||
him with the only means he could adopt to achieve success in the
|
||
struggle. Those first very crude inventions cannot be attributed to the
|
||
individual; for the subsequent observer, that is to say the modern
|
||
observer, recognizes them only as collective phenomena. Certain tricks
|
||
and skilful tactics which can be observed in use among the animals
|
||
strike the eye of the observer as established facts which may be seen
|
||
everywhere; and man is no longer in a position to discover or explain
|
||
their primary cause and so he contents himself with calling such
|
||
phenomena 'instinctive.'
|
||
|
||
In our case this term has no meaning. Because everyone who believes in
|
||
the higher evolution of living organisms must admit that every
|
||
manifestation of the vital urge and struggle to live must have had a
|
||
definite beginning in time and that one subject alone must have
|
||
manifested it for the first time. It was then repeated again and again;
|
||
and the practice of it spread over a widening area, until finally it
|
||
passed into the subconscience of every member of the species, where it
|
||
manifested itself as 'instinct.'
|
||
|
||
This is more easily understood and more easy to believe in the case of
|
||
man. His first skilled tactics in the struggle with the rest of the
|
||
animals undoubtedly originated in his management of creatures which
|
||
possessed special capabilities.
|
||
|
||
There can be no doubt that personality was then the sole factor in all
|
||
decisions and achievements, which were afterwards taken over by the
|
||
whole of humanity as a matter of course. An exact exemplification of
|
||
this may be found in those fundamental military principles which have
|
||
now become the basis of all strategy in war. Originally they sprang from
|
||
the brain of a single individual and in the course of many years, maybe
|
||
even thousands of years, they were accepted all round as a matter of
|
||
course and this gained universal validity.
|
||
|
||
Man completed his first discovery by making a second. Among other things
|
||
he learned how to master other living beings and make them serve him in
|
||
his struggle for existence. And thus began the real inventive activity
|
||
of mankind, as it is now visible before our eyes. Those material
|
||
inventions, beginning with the use of stones as weapons, which led to
|
||
the domestication of animals, the production of fire by artificial
|
||
means, down to the marvellous inventions of our own days, show clearly
|
||
that an individual was the originator in each case. The nearer we come
|
||
to our own time and the more important and revolutionary the inventions
|
||
become, the more clearly do we recognize the truth of that statement.
|
||
All the material inventions which we see around us have been produced by
|
||
the creative powers and capabilities of individuals. And all these
|
||
inventions help man to raise himself higher and higher above the animal
|
||
world and to separate himself from that world in an absolutely definite
|
||
way. Hence they serve to elevate the human species and continually to
|
||
promote its progress. And what the most primitive artifice once did for
|
||
man in his struggle for existence, as he went hunting through the
|
||
primeval forest, that same sort of assistance is rendered him to-day in
|
||
the form of marvellous scientific inventions which help him in the
|
||
present day struggle for life and to forge weapons for future struggles.
|
||
In their final consequences all human thought and invention help man in
|
||
his life-struggle on this planet, even though the so-called practical
|
||
utility of an invention, a discovery or a profound scientific theory,
|
||
may not be evident at first sight. Everything contributes to raise man
|
||
higher and higher above the level of all the other creatures that
|
||
surround him, thereby strengthening and consolidating his position; so
|
||
that he develops more and more in every direction as the ruling being on
|
||
this earth.
|
||
|
||
Hence all inventions are the result of the creative faculty of the
|
||
individual. And all such individuals, whether they have willed it or
|
||
not, are the benefactors of mankind, both great and small. Through their
|
||
work millions and indeed billions of human beings have been provided
|
||
with means and resources which facilitate their struggle for existence.
|
||
|
||
Thus at the origin of the material civilization which flourishes to-day
|
||
we always see individual persons. They supplement one another and one of
|
||
them bases his work on that of the other. The same is true in regard to
|
||
the practical application of those inventions and discoveries. For all
|
||
the various methods of production are in their turn inventions also and
|
||
consequently dependent on the creative faculty of the individual. Even
|
||
the purely theoretical work, which cannot be measured by a definite rule
|
||
and is preliminary to all subsequent technical discoveries, is
|
||
exclusively the product of the individual brain. The broad masses do not
|
||
invent, nor does the majority organize or think; but always and in every
|
||
case the individual man, the person.
|
||
|
||
Accordingly a human community is well organized only when it facilitates
|
||
to the highest possible degree individual creative forces and utilizes
|
||
their work for the benefit of the community. The most valuable factor of
|
||
an invention, whether it be in the world of material realities or in the
|
||
world of abstract ideas, is the personality of the inventor himself. The
|
||
first and supreme duty of an organized folk community is to place the
|
||
inventor in a position where he can be of the greatest benefit to all.
|
||
Indeed the very purpose of the organization is to put this principle
|
||
into practice. Only by so doing can it ward off the curse of
|
||
mechanization and remain a living thing. In itself it must personify the
|
||
effort to place men of brains above the multitude and to make the latter
|
||
obey the former.
|
||
|
||
Therefore not only does the organization possess no right to prevent men
|
||
of brains from rising above the multitude but, on the contrary, it must
|
||
use its organizing powers to enable and promote that ascension as far as
|
||
it possibly can. It must start out from the principle that the blessings
|
||
of mankind never came from the masses but from the creative brains of
|
||
individuals, who are therefore the real benefactors of humanity. It is
|
||
in the interest of all to assure men of creative brains a decisive
|
||
influence and facilitate their work. This common interest is surely not
|
||
served by allowing the multitude to rule, for they are not capable of
|
||
thinking nor are they efficient and in no case whatsoever can they be
|
||
said to be gifted. Only those should rule who have the natural
|
||
temperament and gifts of leadership.
|
||
|
||
Such men of brains are selected mainly, as I have already said, through
|
||
the hard struggle for existence itself. In this struggle there are many
|
||
who break down and collapse and thereby show that they are not called by
|
||
Destiny to fill the highest positions; and only very few are left who
|
||
can be classed among the elect. In the realm of thought and of artistic
|
||
creation, and even in the economic field, this same process of selection
|
||
takes place, although--especially in the economic field--its operation
|
||
is heavily handicapped. This same principle of selection rules in the
|
||
administration of the State and in that department of power which
|
||
personifies the organized military defence of the nation. The idea of
|
||
personality rules everywhere, the authority of the individual over his
|
||
subordinates and the responsibility of the individual towards the
|
||
persons who are placed over him. It is only in political life that this
|
||
very natural principle has been completely excluded. Though all human
|
||
civilization has resulted exclusively from the creative activity of the
|
||
individual, the principle that it is the mass which counts--through the
|
||
decision of the majority--makes its appearance only in the
|
||
administration of the national community especially in the higher
|
||
grades; and from there downwards the poison gradually filters into all
|
||
branches of national life, thus causing a veritable decomposition. The
|
||
destructive workings of Judaism in different parts of the national body
|
||
can be ascribed fundamentally to the persistent Jewish efforts at
|
||
undermining the importance of personality among the nations that are
|
||
their hosts and, in place of personality, substituting the domination of
|
||
the masses. The constructive principle of Aryan humanity is thus
|
||
displaced by the destructive principle of the Jews, They become the
|
||
'ferment of decomposition' among nations and races and, in a broad
|
||
sense, the wreckers of human civilization.
|
||
|
||
Marxism represents the most striking phase of the Jewish endeavour to
|
||
eliminate the dominant significance of personality in every sphere of
|
||
human life and replace it by the numerical power of the masses. In
|
||
politics the parliamentary form of government is the expression of this
|
||
effort. We can observe the fatal effects of it everywhere, from the
|
||
smallest parish council upwards to the highest governing circles of the
|
||
nation. In the field of economics we see the trade union movement, which
|
||
does not serve the real interests of the employees but the destructive
|
||
aims of international Jewry. Just to the same degree in which the
|
||
principle of personality is excluded from the economic life of the
|
||
nation, and the influence and activities of the masses substituted in
|
||
its stead, national economy, which should be for the service and benefit
|
||
of the community as a whole, will gradually deteriorate in its creative
|
||
capacity. The shop committees which, instead of caring for the interests
|
||
of the employees, strive to influence the process of production, serve
|
||
the same destructive purpose. They damage the general productive system
|
||
and consequently injure the individual engaged in industry. For in the
|
||
long run it is impossible to satisfy popular demands merely by
|
||
high-sounding theoretical phrases. These can be satisfied only by
|
||
supplying goods to meet the individual needs of daily life and by so
|
||
doing create the conviction that, through the productive collaboration
|
||
of its members, the folk community serves the interests of the
|
||
individual.
|
||
|
||
Even if, on the basis of its mass-theory, Marxism should prove itself
|
||
capable of taking over and developing the present economic system, that
|
||
would not signify anything. The question as to whether the Marxist
|
||
doctrine be right or wrong cannot be decided by any test which would
|
||
show that it can administer for the future what already exists to-day,
|
||
but only by asking whether it has the creative power to build up
|
||
according to its own principles a civilization which would be a
|
||
counterpart of what already exists. Even if Marxism were a thousandfold
|
||
capable of taking over the economic life as we now have it and
|
||
maintaining it in operation under Marxist direction, such an achievement
|
||
would prove nothing; because, on the basis of its own principles,
|
||
Marxism would never be able to create something which could supplant
|
||
what exists to-day.
|
||
|
||
And Marxism itself has furnished the proof that it cannot do this. Not
|
||
only has it been unable anywhere to create a cultural or economic system
|
||
of its own; but it was not even able to develop, according to its own
|
||
principles, the civilization and economic system it found ready at hand.
|
||
It has had to make compromises, by way of a return to the principle of
|
||
personality, just as it cannot dispense with that principle in its own
|
||
organization.
|
||
|
||
The racial WELTANSCHAUUNG is fundamentally distinguished from the
|
||
Marxist by reason of the fact that the former recognizes the
|
||
significance of race and therefore also personal worth and has made
|
||
these the pillars of its structure. These are the most important factors
|
||
of its WELTANSCHAUUNG.
|
||
|
||
If the National Socialist Movement should fail to understand the
|
||
fundamental importance of this essential principle, if it should merely
|
||
varnish the external appearance of the present State and adopt the
|
||
majority principle, it would really do nothing more than compete with
|
||
Marxism on its own ground. For that reason it would not have the right
|
||
to call itself a WELTANSCHAUUNG. If the social programme of the
|
||
movement consisted in eliminating personality and putting the multitude
|
||
in its place, then National Socialism would be corrupted with the poison
|
||
of Marxism, just as our national-bourgeois parties are.
|
||
|
||
The People's State must assure the welfare of its citizens by
|
||
recognizing the importance of personal values under all circumstances
|
||
and by preparing the way for the maximum of productive efficiency in all
|
||
the various branches of economic life, thus securing to the individual
|
||
the highest possible share in the general output.
|
||
|
||
Hence the People's State must mercilessly expurgate from all the leading
|
||
circles in the government of the country the parliamentarian principle,
|
||
according to which decisive power through the majority vote is invested
|
||
in the multitude. Personal responsibility must be substituted in its
|
||
stead.
|
||
|
||
From this the following conclusion results:
|
||
|
||
The best constitution and the best form of government is that which
|
||
makes it quite natural for the best brains to reach a position of
|
||
dominant importance and influence in the community.
|
||
|
||
Just as in the field of economics men of outstanding ability cannot be
|
||
designated from above but must come forward in virtue of their own
|
||
efforts, and just as there is an unceasing educative process that leads
|
||
from the smallest shop to the largest undertaking, and just as life
|
||
itself is the school in which those lessons are taught, so in the
|
||
political field it is not possible to 'discover' political talent all in
|
||
a moment. Genius of an extraordinary stamp is not to be judged by normal
|
||
standards whereby we judge other men.
|
||
|
||
In its organization the State must be established on the principle of
|
||
personality, starting from the smallest cell and ascending up to the
|
||
supreme government of the country.
|
||
|
||
There are no decisions made by the majority vote, but only by
|
||
responsible persons. And the word 'council' is once more restored to its
|
||
original meaning. Every man in a position of responsibility will have
|
||
councillors at his side, but the decision is made by that individual
|
||
person alone.
|
||
|
||
The principle which made the former Prussian Army an admirable
|
||
instrument of the German nation will have to become the basis of our
|
||
statal constitution, that is to say, full authority over his
|
||
subordinates must be invested in each leader and he must be responsible
|
||
to those above him.
|
||
|
||
Even then we shall not be able to do without those corporations which at
|
||
present we call parliaments. But they will be real councils, in the
|
||
sense that they will have to give advice. The responsibility can and
|
||
must be borne by one individual, who alone will be vested with authority
|
||
and the right to command.
|
||
|
||
Parliaments as such are necessary because they alone furnish the
|
||
opportunity for leaders to rise gradually who will be entrusted
|
||
subsequently with positions of special responsibility.
|
||
|
||
The following is an outline of the picture which the organization will
|
||
present:
|
||
|
||
From the municipal administration up to the government of the REICH, the
|
||
People's State will not have any body of representatives which makes its
|
||
decisions through the majority vote. It will have only advisory bodies
|
||
to assist the chosen leader for the time being and he will distribute
|
||
among them the various duties they are to perform. In certain fields
|
||
they may, if necessary, have to assume full responsibility, such as the
|
||
leader or president of each corporation possesses on a larger scale.
|
||
|
||
In principle the People's State must forbid the custom of taking advice
|
||
on certain political problems--economics, for instance--from persons
|
||
who are entirely incompetent because they lack special training and
|
||
practical experience in such matters. Consequently the State must divide
|
||
its representative bodies into a political chamber and a corporative
|
||
chamber that represents the respective trades and professions.
|
||
|
||
To assure an effective co-operation between those two bodies, a selected
|
||
body will be placed over them. This will be a special senate.
|
||
|
||
No vote will be taken in the chambers or senate. They are to be
|
||
organizations for work and not voting machines. The individual members
|
||
will have consultive votes but no right of decision will be attached
|
||
thereto. The right of decision belongs exclusively to the president, who
|
||
must be entirely responsible for the matter under discussion.
|
||
|
||
This principle of combining absolute authority with absolute
|
||
responsibility will gradually cause a selected group of leaders to
|
||
emerge; which is not even thinkable in our present epoch of
|
||
irresponsible parliamentarianism.
|
||
|
||
The political construction of the nation will thereby be brought into
|
||
harmony with those laws to which the nation already owes its greatness
|
||
in the economic and cultural spheres.
|
||
|
||
Regarding the possibility of putting these principles into practice, I
|
||
should like to call attention to the fact that the principle of
|
||
parliamentarian democracy, whereby decisions are enacted through the
|
||
majority vote, has not always ruled the world. On the contrary, we find
|
||
it prevalent only during short periods of history, and those have always
|
||
been periods of decline in nations and States.
|
||
|
||
One must not believe, however, that such a radical change could be
|
||
effected by measures of a purely theoretical character, operating from
|
||
above downwards; for the change I have been describing could not be
|
||
limited to transforming the constitution of a State but would have to
|
||
include the various fields of legislation and civic existence as a
|
||
whole. Such a revolution can be brought about only by means of a
|
||
movement which is itself organized under the inspiration of these
|
||
principles and thus bears the germ of the future State in its own
|
||
organism.
|
||
|
||
Therefore it is well for the National Socialist Movement to make itself
|
||
completely familiar with those principles to-day and actually to put
|
||
them into practice within its own organization, so that not only will it
|
||
be in a position to serve as a guide for the future State but will have
|
||
its own organization such that it can subsequently be placed at the
|
||
disposal of the State itself.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
CHAPTER V
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
WELTANSCHAUUNG AND ORGANIZATION
|
||
|
||
|
||
The People's State, which I have tried to sketch in general outline,
|
||
will not become a reality in virtue of the simple fact that we know the
|
||
indispensable conditions of its existence. It does not suffice to know
|
||
what aspect such a State would present. The problem of its foundation is
|
||
far more important. The parties which exist at present and which draw
|
||
their profits from the State as it now is cannot be expected to bring
|
||
about a radical change in the regime or to change their attitude on
|
||
their own initiative. This is rendered all the more impossible because
|
||
the forces which now have the direction of affairs in their hands are
|
||
Jews here and Jews there and Jews everywhere. The trend of development
|
||
which we are now experiencing would, if allowed to go on unhampered,
|
||
lead to the realization of the Pan-Jewish prophecy that the Jews will
|
||
one day devour the other nations and become lords of the earth.
|
||
|
||
In contrast to the millions of 'bourgeois' and 'proletarian' Germans,
|
||
who are stumbling to their ruin, mostly through timidity, indolence and
|
||
stupidity, the Jew pursues his way persistently and keeps his eye always
|
||
fixed on his future goal. Any party that is led by him can fight for no
|
||
other interests than his, and his interests certainly have nothing in
|
||
common with those of the Aryan nations.
|
||
|
||
If we would transform our ideal picture of the People's State into a
|
||
reality we shall have to keep independent of the forces that now control
|
||
public life and seek for new forces that will be ready and capable of
|
||
taking up the fight for such an ideal. For a fight it will have to be,
|
||
since the first objective will not be to build up the idea of the
|
||
People's State but rather to wipe out the Jewish State which is now in
|
||
existence. As so often happens in the course of history, the main
|
||
difficulty is not to establish a new order of things but to clear the
|
||
ground for its establishment. Prejudices and egotistic interests join
|
||
together in forming a common front against the new idea and in trying by
|
||
every means to prevent its triumph, because it is disagreeable to them
|
||
or threatens their existence.
|
||
|
||
That is why the protagonist of the new idea is unfortunately, in spite
|
||
of his {254}desire for constructive work, compelled to wage a
|
||
destructive battle first, in order to abolish the existing state of
|
||
affairs.
|
||
|
||
A doctrine whose principles are radically new and of essential
|
||
importance must adopt the sharp probe of criticism as its weapon, though
|
||
this may show itself disagreeable to the individual followers.
|
||
|
||
It is evidence of a very superficial insight into historical
|
||
developments if the so-called folkists emphasize again and again that
|
||
they will adopt the use of negative criticism under no circumstances but
|
||
will engage only in constructive work. That is nothing but puerile
|
||
chatter and is typical of the whole lot of folkists. It is another proof
|
||
that the history of our own times has made no impression on these minds.
|
||
Marxism too has had its aims to pursue and it also recognizes
|
||
constructive work, though by this it understands only the establishment
|
||
of despotic rule in the hands of international Jewish finance.
|
||
Nevertheless for seventy years its principal work still remains in the
|
||
field of criticism. And what disruptive and destructive criticism it has
|
||
been! Criticism repeated again and again, until the corrosive acid ate
|
||
into the old State so thoroughly that it finally crumbled to pieces.
|
||
Only then did the so-called 'constructive' critical work of Marxism
|
||
begin. And that was natural, right and logical. An existing order of
|
||
things is not abolished by merely proclaiming and insisting on a new
|
||
one. It must not be hoped that those who are the partisans of the
|
||
existing order and have their interests bound up with it will be
|
||
converted and won over to the new movement simply by being shown that
|
||
something new is necessary. On the contrary, what may easily happen is
|
||
that two different situations will exist side by side and that a
|
||
WELTANSCHAUUNG is transformed into a party, above which level it will
|
||
not be able to raise itself afterwards. For a WELTANSCHAUUNG is
|
||
intolerant and cannot permit another to exist side by side with it. It
|
||
imperiously demands its own recognition as unique and exclusive and a
|
||
complete transformation in accordance with its views throughout all the
|
||
branches of public life. It can never allow the previous state of
|
||
affairs to continue in existence by its side.
|
||
|
||
And the same holds true of religions.
|
||
|
||
Christianity was not content with erecting an altar of its own. It had
|
||
first to destroy the pagan altars. It was only in virtue of this
|
||
passionate intolerance that an apodictic faith could grow up. And
|
||
intolerance is an indispensable condition for the growth of such a
|
||
faith.
|
||
|
||
It may be objected here that in these phenomena which we find throughout
|
||
the history of the world we have to recognize mostly a specifically
|
||
Jewish mode of thought and that such fanaticism and intolerance are
|
||
typical symptoms of Jewish mentality. That may be a thousandfold true;
|
||
and it is a fact deeply to be regretted. The appearance of intolerance
|
||
and fanaticism in the history of mankind may be deeply regrettable, and
|
||
it may be looked upon as foreign to human nature, but the fact does not
|
||
change conditions as they exist to-day. The men who wish to liberate our
|
||
German nation from the conditions in which it now exists cannot cudgel
|
||
their brains with thinking how excellent it would be if this or that had
|
||
never arisen. They must strive to find ways and means of abolishing what
|
||
actually exists. A philosophy of life which is inspired by an infernal
|
||
spirit of intolerance can only be set aside by a doctrine that is
|
||
advanced in an equally ardent spirit and fought for with as determined a
|
||
will and which is itself a new idea, pure and absolutely true.
|
||
|
||
Each one of us to-day may regret the fact that the advent of
|
||
Christianity was the first occasion on which spiritual terror was
|
||
introduced into the much freer ancient world, but the fact cannot be
|
||
denied that ever since then the world is pervaded and dominated by this
|
||
kind of coercion and that violence is broken only by violence and terror
|
||
by terror. Only then can a new regime be created by means of
|
||
constructive work. Political parties are prone to enter compromises; but
|
||
a WELTANSCHAUUNG never does this. A political party is inclined to
|
||
adjust its teachings with a view to meeting those of its opponents, but
|
||
a WELTANSCHAUUNG proclaims its own infallibility.
|
||
|
||
In the beginning, political parties have also and nearly always the
|
||
intention of {255}securing an exclusive and despotic domination for
|
||
themselves. They always show a slight tendency to become
|
||
WELTANSCHHAUUNGen. But the limited nature of their programme is in
|
||
itself enough to rob them of that heroic spirit which a WELTANSCHAUUNG
|
||
demands. The spirit of conciliation which animates their will attracts
|
||
those petty and chicken-hearted people who are not fit to be
|
||
protagonists in any crusade. That is the reason why they mostly become
|
||
struck in their miserable pettiness very early on the march. They give
|
||
up fighting for their ideology and, by way of what they call 'positive
|
||
collaboration,' they try as quickly as possible to wedge themselves into
|
||
some tiny place at the trough of the existent regime and to stick there
|
||
as long as possible. Their whole effort ends at that. And if they should
|
||
get shouldered away from the common manger by a competition of more
|
||
brutal manners then their only idea is to force themselves in again, by
|
||
force or chicanery, among the herd of all the others who have similar
|
||
appetites, in order to get back into the front row, and finally--even
|
||
at the expense of their most sacred convictions--participate anew in
|
||
that beloved spot where they find their fodder. They are the jackals of
|
||
politics.
|
||
|
||
But a general WELTANSCHAUUNG will never share its place with something
|
||
else. Therefore it can never agree to collaborate in any order of things
|
||
that it condemns. On the contrary it feels obliged to employ every means
|
||
in fighting against the old order and the whole world of ideas belonging
|
||
to that order and prepare the way for its destruction.
|
||
|
||
These purely destructive tactics, the danger of which is so readily
|
||
perceived by the enemy that he forms a united front against them for his
|
||
common defence, and also the constructive tactics, which must be
|
||
aggressive in order to carry the new world of ideas to success--both
|
||
these phases of the struggle call for a body of resolute fighters. Any
|
||
new philosophy of life will bring its ideas to victory only if the most
|
||
courageous and active elements of its epoch and its people are enrolled
|
||
under its standards and grouped firmly together in a powerful fighting
|
||
organization. To achieve this purpose it is absolutely necessary to
|
||
select from the general system of doctrine a certain number of ideas
|
||
which will appeal to such individuals and which, once they are expressed
|
||
in a precise and clear-cut form, will serve as articles of faith for a
|
||
new association of men. While the programme of the ordinary political
|
||
party is nothing but the recipe for cooking up favourable results out of
|
||
the next general elections, the programme of a WELTANSCHAUUNG
|
||
represents a declaration of war against an existing order of things,
|
||
against present conditions, in short, against the established
|
||
WELTANSCHAUUNG.
|
||
|
||
It is not necessary, however, that every individual fighter for such a
|
||
new doctrine need have a full grasp of the ultimate ideas and plans of
|
||
those who are the leaders of the movement. It is only necessary that
|
||
each should have a clear notion of the fundamental ideas and that he
|
||
should thoroughly assimilate a few of the most fundamental principles,
|
||
so that he will be convinced of the necessity of carrying the movement
|
||
and its doctrines to success. The individual soldier is not initiated in
|
||
the knowledge of high strategical plans. But he is trained to submit to
|
||
a rigid discipline, to be passionately convinced of the justice and
|
||
inner worth of his cause and that he must devote himself to it without
|
||
reserve. So, too, the individual follower of a movement must be made
|
||
acquainted with its far-reaching purpose, how it is inspired by a
|
||
powerful will and has a great future before it.
|
||
|
||
Supposing that each soldier in an army were a general, and had the
|
||
training and capacity for generalship, that army would not be an
|
||
efficient fighting instrument. Similarly a political movement would not
|
||
be very efficient in fighting for a WELTANSCHAUUNG if it were made up
|
||
exclusively of intellectuals. No, we need the simple soldier also.
|
||
Without him no discipline can be established.
|
||
|
||
By its very nature, an organization can exist only if leaders of high
|
||
intellectual ability are served by a large mass of men who are
|
||
emotionally devoted to the cause. To maintain discipline in a company of
|
||
two hundred men who are equally intelligent and capable would turn out
|
||
more difficult in the long run than in a company of one hundred and
|
||
ninety less gifted men and ten who have had a higher education.
|
||
|
||
{256}The Social-Democrats have profited very much by recognizing this
|
||
truth. They took the broad masses of our people who had just completed
|
||
military service and learned to submit to discipline, and they subjected
|
||
this mass of men to the discipline of the Social-Democratic
|
||
organization, which was no less rigid than the discipline through which
|
||
the young men had passed in their military training. The
|
||
Social-Democratic organization consisted of an army divided into
|
||
officers and men. The German worker who had passed through his military
|
||
service became the private soldier in that army, and the Jewish
|
||
intellectual was the officer. The German trade union functionaries may
|
||
be compared to the non-commissioned officers. The fact, which was always
|
||
looked upon with indifference by our middle-classes, that only the
|
||
so-called uneducated classes joined Marxism was the very ground on which
|
||
this party achieved its success. For while the bourgeois parties,
|
||
because they mostly consisted of intellectuals, were only a feckless
|
||
band of undisciplined individuals, out of much less intelligent human
|
||
material the Marxist leaders formed an army of party combatants who obey
|
||
their Jewish masters just as blindly as they formerly obeyed their
|
||
German officers. The German middle-classes, who never; bothered their
|
||
heads about psychological problems because they felt themselves superior
|
||
to such matters, did not think it necessary to reflect on the profound
|
||
significance of this fact and the secret danger involved in it. Indeed
|
||
they believed. that a political movement which draws its followers
|
||
exclusively from intellectual circles must, for that very reason, be of
|
||
greater importance and have better grounds. for its chances of success,
|
||
and even a greater probability of taking over the government of the
|
||
country than a party made up of the ignorant masses. They completely
|
||
failed to realize the fact that the strength of a political party never
|
||
consists in the intelligence and independent spirit of the rank-and-file
|
||
of its members but rather in the spirit of willing obedience with which
|
||
they follow their intellectual leaders. What is of decisive importance
|
||
is the leadership itself. When two bodies of troops are arrayed in
|
||
mutual combat victory will not fall to that side in which every soldier
|
||
has an expert knowledge of the rules of strategy, but rather to that
|
||
side which has the best leaders and at the same time the best
|
||
disciplined, most blindly obedient and best drilled troops.
|
||
|
||
That is a fundamental piece of knowledge which we must always bear in
|
||
mind when we examine the possibility of transforming a WELTANSCHAUUNG
|
||
into a practical reality.
|
||
|
||
If we agree that in order to carry a WELTANSCHAUUNG into practical
|
||
effect it must be incorporated in a fighting movement, then the logical
|
||
consequence is that the programme of such a movement must take account
|
||
of the human material at its disposal. Just as the ultimate aims and
|
||
fundamental principles must be absolutely definite and unmistakable, so
|
||
the propagandist programme must be well drawn up and must be inspired by
|
||
a keen sense of its psychological appeals to the minds of those without
|
||
whose help the noblest ideas will be doomed to remain in the eternal,
|
||
realm of ideas.
|
||
|
||
If the idea of the People's State, which is at present an obscure wish,
|
||
is one day to attain a clear and definite success, from its vague and
|
||
vast mass of thought it will have to put forward certain definite
|
||
principles which of their very nature and content are calculated to
|
||
attract a broad mass of adherents; in other words, such a group of
|
||
people as can guarantee that these principles will be fought for. That
|
||
group of people are the German workers.
|
||
|
||
That is why the programme of the new movement was condensed into a few
|
||
fundamental postulates, twenty-five in all. They are meant first of all
|
||
to give the ordinary man a rough sketch of what the movement is aiming
|
||
at. They are, so to say, a profession of faith which on the one hand is
|
||
meant to win adherents to the movement and, on the other, they are meant
|
||
to unite such adherents together in a covenant to which all have
|
||
subscribed.
|
||
|
||
In these matters we must never lose sight of the following: What we call
|
||
the programme of the movement is absolutely right as far as its ultimate
|
||
aims are concerned, but as regards the manner in which that programme is
|
||
formulated, certain psychological considerations had to be taken
|
||
into account. Hence, in the course of time, the opinion may well arise
|
||
that certain principles should be expressed differently and might be
|
||
better formulated. But any attempt at a different formulation has a
|
||
fatal effect in most cases. For something that ought to be fixed and
|
||
unshakable thereby becomes the subject of discussion. As soon as one
|
||
point alone is removed from the sphere of dogmatic certainty, the
|
||
discussion will not simply result in a new and better formulation which
|
||
will have greater consistency but may easily lead to endless debates and
|
||
general confusion. In such cases the question must always be carefully
|
||
considered as to whether a new and more adequate formulation is to be
|
||
preferred, though it may cause a controversy within the movement, or
|
||
whether it may not be better to retain the old formula which, though
|
||
probably not the best, represents an organism enclosed in itself, solid
|
||
and internally homogeneous. All experience shows that the second of
|
||
these alternatives is preferable. For since in these changes one is
|
||
dealing only with external forms such corrections will always appear
|
||
desirable and possible. But in the last analysis the generality of
|
||
people think superficially and therefore the great danger is that in
|
||
what is merely an external formulation of the programme people will see
|
||
an essential aim of the movement. In that way the will and the combative
|
||
force at the service of the ideas are weakened and the energies that
|
||
ought to be directed towards the outer world are dissipated in
|
||
programmatic discussions within the ranks of the movement.
|
||
|
||
For a doctrine that is actually right in its main features it is less
|
||
dangerous to retain a formulation which may no longer be quite adequate
|
||
instead of trying to improve it and thereby allowing a fundamental
|
||
principle of the movement, which had hitherto been considered as solid
|
||
as granite, to become the subject of a general discussion which may have
|
||
unfortunate consequences. This is particularly to be avoided as long as
|
||
a movement is still fighting for victory. For would it be possible to
|
||
inspire people with blind faith in the truth of a doctrine if doubt and
|
||
uncertainty are encouraged by continual alterations in its external
|
||
formulation?
|
||
|
||
The essentials of a teaching must never be looked for in its external
|
||
formulas, but always in its inner meaning. And this meaning is
|
||
unchangeable. And in its interest one can only wish that a movement
|
||
should exclude everything that tends towards disintegration and
|
||
uncertainty in order to preserve the unified force that is necessary for
|
||
its triumph.
|
||
|
||
Here again the Catholic Church has a lesson to teach us. Though
|
||
sometimes, and often quite unnecessarily, its dogmatic system is in
|
||
conflict with the exact sciences and with scientific discoveries, it is
|
||
not disposed to sacrifice a syllable of its teachings. It has rightly
|
||
recognized that its powers of resistance would be weakened by
|
||
introducing greater or less doctrinal adaptations to meet the temporary
|
||
conclusions of science, which in reality are always vacillating. And
|
||
thus it holds fast to its fixed and established dogmas which alone can
|
||
give to the whole system the character of a faith. And that is the
|
||
reason why it stands firmer to-day than ever before. We may prophesy
|
||
that, as a fixed pole amid fleeting phenomena, it will continue to
|
||
attract increasing numbers of people who will be blindly attached to it
|
||
the more rapid the rhythm of changing phenomena around it.
|
||
|
||
Therefore whoever really and seriously desires that the idea of the
|
||
People's State should triumph must realize that this triumph can be
|
||
assured only through a militant movement and that this movement must
|
||
ground its strength only on the granite firmness of an impregnable and
|
||
firmly coherent programme. In regard to its formulas it must never make
|
||
concessions to the spirit of the time but must maintain the form that
|
||
has once and for all been decided upon as the right one; in any case
|
||
until victory has crowned its efforts. Before this goal has been reached
|
||
any attempt to open a discussion on the opportuneness of this or that
|
||
point in the programme might tend to disintegrate the solidity and
|
||
fighting strength of the movement, according to the measures in which
|
||
its followers might take part in such an internal dispute. Some
|
||
'improvements' introduced to-day might be subjected to a critical
|
||
examination to-morrow, in order to substitute it with something better
|
||
{258}the day after. Once the barrier has been taken down the road is
|
||
opened and we know only the beginning, but we do not know to what
|
||
shoreless sea it may lead.
|
||
|
||
This important principle had to be acknowledged in practice by the
|
||
members of the National Socialist Movement at its very beginning. In its
|
||
programme of twenty-five points the National Socialist German Labour
|
||
Party has been furnished with a basis that must remain unshakable. The
|
||
members of the movement, both present and future, must never feel
|
||
themselves called upon to undertake a critical revision of these leading
|
||
postulates, but rather feel themselves obliged to put them into practice
|
||
as they stand. Otherwise the next generation would, in its turn and with
|
||
equal right, expend its energy in such purely formal work within the
|
||
party, instead of winning new adherents to the movement and thus adding
|
||
to its power. For the majority of our followers the essence of the
|
||
movement will consist not so much in the letter of our theses but in the
|
||
meaning that we attribute to them.
|
||
|
||
The new movement owes its name to these considerations, and later on its
|
||
programme was drawn up in conformity with them. They are the basis of
|
||
our propaganda. In order to carry the idea of the People's State to
|
||
victory, a popular party had to be founded, a party that did not consist
|
||
of intellectual leaders only but also of manual labourers. Any attempt
|
||
to carry these theories into effect without the aid of a militant
|
||
organization would be doomed to failure to-day, as it has failed in the
|
||
past and must fail in the future. That is why the movement is not only
|
||
justified but it is also obliged to consider itself as the champion and
|
||
representative of these ideas. Just as the fundamental principles of the
|
||
National Socialist Movement are based on the folk idea, folk ideas are
|
||
National Socialist. If National Socialism would triumph it will have to
|
||
hold firm to this fact unreservedly, and here again it has not only the
|
||
right but also the duty to emphasize most rigidly that any attempt to
|
||
represent the folk idea outside of the National Socialist German Labour
|
||
Party is futile and in most cases fraudulent.
|
||
|
||
If the reproach should be launched against our movement that it has
|
||
'monopolized' the folk idea, there is only one answer to give.
|
||
|
||
Not only have we monopolized the folk idea but, to all practical intents
|
||
and purposes, we have created it.
|
||
|
||
For what hitherto existed under this name was not in the least capable
|
||
of influencing the destiny of our people, since all those ideas lacked a
|
||
political and coherent formulation. In most cases they are nothing but
|
||
isolated and incoherent notions which are more or less right. Quite
|
||
frequently these were in open contradiction to one another and in no
|
||
case was there any internal cohesion among them. And even if this
|
||
internal cohesion existed it would have been much too weak to form the
|
||
basis of any movement.
|
||
|
||
Only the National Socialist Movement proved capable of fulfilling this
|
||
task.
|
||
|
||
All kinds of associations and groups, big as well as little, now claim
|
||
the title V<>LKISCH. This is one result of the work which National
|
||
Socialism has done. Without this work, not one of all these parties
|
||
would have thought of adopting the word V<>LKISCH at all. That expression
|
||
would have meant nothing to them and especially their directors would
|
||
never have had anything to do with such an idea. Not until the work of
|
||
the German National Socialist Labour Party had given this idea a
|
||
pregnant meaning did it appear in the mouths of all kinds of people. Our
|
||
party above all, by the success of its propaganda, has shown the force
|
||
of the folk idea; so much so that the others, in an effort to gain
|
||
proselytes, find themselves forced to copy our example, at least in
|
||
words.
|
||
|
||
Just as heretofore they exploited everything to serve their petty
|
||
electoral purposes, to-day they use the word V<>LKISCH only as an
|
||
external and hollow-sounding phrase for the purpose of counteracting the
|
||
force of the impression which the National Socialist Party makes on the
|
||
members of those other parties. Only the desire to maintain their
|
||
existence and the fear that our movement may prevail, because it is
|
||
based on a WELTANSCHAUUNG that is of universal importance, and because
|
||
they feel that the exclusive character of our movement betokens danger
|
||
for them--only for these reasons do they use words which they
|
||
repudiated eight {259}years ago, derided seven years ago, branded as
|
||
stupid six years ago, combated five years ago, hated four years ago, and
|
||
finally, two years ago, annexed and incorporated them in their present
|
||
political vocabulary, employing them as war slogans in their struggle.
|
||
|
||
And so it is necessary even now not to cease calling attention to the
|
||
fact that not one of those parties has the slightest idea of what the
|
||
German nation needs. The most striking proof of this is represented by
|
||
the superficial way in which they use the word V<>LKISCH.
|
||
|
||
Not less dangerous are those who run about as semi-folkists formulating
|
||
fantastic schemes which are mostly based on nothing else than a fixed
|
||
idea which in itself might be right but which, because it is an isolated
|
||
notion, is of no use whatsoever for the formation of a great homogeneous
|
||
fighting association and could by no means serve as the basis of its
|
||
organization. Those people who concoct a programme which consists partly
|
||
of their own ideas and partly of ideas taken from others, about which
|
||
they have read somewhere, are often more dangerous than the outspoken
|
||
enemies of the V<>LKISCH idea. At best they are sterile theorists but
|
||
more frequently they are mischievous agitators of the public mind. They
|
||
believe that they can mask their intellectual vanity, the futility of
|
||
their efforts, and their lack of stability, by sporting flowing beards
|
||
and indulging in ancient German gestures.
|
||
|
||
In face of all those futile attempts, it is therefore worth while to
|
||
recall the time when the new National Socialist Movement began its
|
||
fight.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
CHAPTER VI
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
THE FIRST PERIOD OF OUR STRUGGLE
|
||
|
||
|
||
The echoes of our first great meeting, in the banquet hall of the
|
||
Hofbr<EFBFBD>uhaus on February 24th, 1920, had not yet died away when we began
|
||
preparations for our next meeting. Up to that time we had to consider
|
||
carefully the venture of holding a small meeting every month or at most
|
||
every fortnight in a city like Munich; but now it was decided that we
|
||
should hold a mass meeting every week. I need not say that we anxiously
|
||
asked ourselves on each occasion again and again: Will the people come
|
||
and will they listen? Personally I was firmly convinced that if once
|
||
they came they would remain and listen.
|
||
|
||
During that period the hall of the Hofbrau Haus in Munich acquired for
|
||
us, National Socialists, a sort of mystic significance. Every week there
|
||
was a meeting, almost always in that hall, and each time the hall was
|
||
better filled than on the former occasion, and our public more
|
||
attentive.
|
||
|
||
Starting with the theme, 'Responsibility for the War,' which nobody at
|
||
that time cared about, and passing on to the discussion of the peace
|
||
treaties, we dealt with almost everything that served to stimulate the
|
||
minds of our audience and make them interested in our ideas. We drew
|
||
attention to the peace treaties. What the new movement prophesied again
|
||
and again before those great masses of people has been fulfilled almost
|
||
in every detail. To-day it is easy to talk and write about these things.
|
||
But in those days a public mass meeting which was attended not by the
|
||
small bourgeoisie but by proletarians who had been aroused by agitators,
|
||
to criticize the Peace Treaty of Versailles meant an attack on the
|
||
Republic and an evidence of reaction, if not of monarchist tendencies.
|
||
The moment one uttered the first criticism of the Versailles Treaty one
|
||
could expect an immediate reply, which became almost stereotyped: 'And
|
||
Brest-Litowsk?' 'Brest-Litowsk!' And then the crowd would murmur and the
|
||
murmur would gradually swell into a roar, until the speaker would have
|
||
to give up his attempt to persuade them. It would be like knocking one's
|
||
head against a wall, so desperate were these people. They would not
|
||
listen nor understand that Versailles was a scandal and a disgrace and
|
||
that the dictate signified an act of highway robbery against our people.
|
||
The disruptive work done by the Marxists and the poisonous propaganda of
|
||
the external enemy had robbed these people of their reason. And one had
|
||
no right to complain. For the guilt on this side was enormous. What had
|
||
the German bourgeoisie done to call a halt to this terrible campaign of
|
||
disintegration, to oppose it and open a way to a recognition of the
|
||
truth by giving a better and more thorough explanation of the situation
|
||
than that of the Marxists? Nothing, nothing. At that time I never saw
|
||
those who are now the great apostles of the people. Perhaps they spoke
|
||
to select groups, at tea parties of their own little coteries; but there
|
||
where they should have been, where the wolves were at work, they never
|
||
risked their appearance, unless it gave them the opportunity of yelling
|
||
in concert with the wolves.
|
||
|
||
As for myself, I then saw clearly that for the small group which first
|
||
composed our movement the question of war guilt had to be cleared up,
|
||
and cleared up in the light of historical truth. A preliminary condition
|
||
for the future success of our movement was that it should bring
|
||
knowledge of the meaning of the peace treaties to the minds of the
|
||
popular masses. In the opinion of the masses, the peace treaties then
|
||
signified a democratic success. Therefore, it was necessary to take the
|
||
opposite side and dig ourselves into the minds of the people as the
|
||
enemies of the peace treaties; so that later on, when the naked truth of
|
||
this despicable swindle would be disclosed in all its hideousness, the
|
||
people would recall the position which we then took and would give us
|
||
their confidence.
|
||
|
||
Already at that time I took up my stand on those important fundamental
|
||
questions where public opinion had gone wrong as a whole. I opposed
|
||
these wrong notions without regard either for popularity or for hatred,
|
||
and I was ready to face the fight. The National Socialist German Labour
|
||
Party ought not to be the beadle but rather the master of public
|
||
opinion. It must not serve the masses but rather dominate them.
|
||
|
||
In the case of every movement, especially during its struggling stages,
|
||
there is naturally a temptation to conform to the tactics of an opponent
|
||
and use the same battle-cries, when his tactics have succeeded in
|
||
leading the people to crazy conclusions or to adopt mistaken attitudes
|
||
towards the questions at issue. This temptation is particularly strong
|
||
when motives can be found, though they are entirely illusory, that seem
|
||
to point towards the same ends which the young movement is aiming at.
|
||
Human poltroonery will then all the more readily adopt those arguments
|
||
which give it a semblance of justification, 'from its own point of
|
||
view,' in participating in the criminal policy which the adversary is
|
||
following.
|
||
|
||
On several occasions I have experienced such cases, in which the
|
||
greatest energy had to be employed to prevent the ship of our movement
|
||
from being drawn into a general current which had been started
|
||
artificially, and indeed from sailing with it. The last occasion was
|
||
when our German Press, the Hecuba of the existence of the German nation,
|
||
succeeded in bringing the question of South Tyrol into a position of
|
||
importance which was seriously damaging to the interests of the German
|
||
people. Without considering what interests they were serving, several
|
||
so-called 'national' men, parties and leagues, joined in the general
|
||
cry, simply for fear of public opinion which had been excited by the
|
||
Jews, and foolishly contributed to help in the struggle against a system
|
||
which we Germans ought, particularly in those days, to consider as the
|
||
one ray of light in this distracted world. While the international
|
||
World-Jew is slowly but surely strangling us, our so-called patriots
|
||
vociferate against a man and his system which have had the courage to
|
||
liberate themselves from the shackles of Jewish Freemasonry at least in
|
||
one quarter of the globe and to set the forces of national resistance
|
||
against the international world-poison. But weak characters were tempted
|
||
to set their sails according to the direction of the wind and capitulate
|
||
before the shout of public opinion. For it was veritably a capitulation.
|
||
They are so much in the habit of lying and so morally base that men may
|
||
not admit this even to themselves, but the truth remains that only
|
||
cowardice and fear of the public feeling aroused by the Jews induced
|
||
certain people to join in the hue and cry. All the other reasons put
|
||
forward were only miserable excuses of paltry culprits who were
|
||
conscious of their own crime.
|
||
|
||
There it was necessary to grasp the rudder with an iron hand and turn
|
||
the movement about, so as to save it from a course that would have led
|
||
it on the rocks. Certainly to attempt such a change of course was not a
|
||
popular manoeuvre at that time, because all the leading forces of public
|
||
opinion had been active and a great flame of public feeling illuminated
|
||
only one direction. Such a decision almost always brings disfavour on
|
||
those who dare to take it. In the course of history not a few men have
|
||
been stoned for an act for which posterity has afterwards thanked them
|
||
on its knees.
|
||
|
||
But a movement must count on posterity and not on the plaudits of the
|
||
movement. It may well be that at such moments certain individuals have
|
||
to endure hours of anguish; but they should not forget that the moment
|
||
of liberation will come and that a movement which purposes to reshape
|
||
the world must serve the future and not the passing hour.
|
||
|
||
On this point it may be asserted that the greatest and most enduring
|
||
successes in history are mostly those which were least understood at the
|
||
beginning, because they were in strong contrast to public opinion and
|
||
the views and wishes of the time.
|
||
|
||
We had experience of this when we made our own first public appearance.
|
||
In all truth it can be said that we did not court public favour but made
|
||
an onslaught on the follies of our people. In those days the following
|
||
happened almost always: I presented myself before an assembly of men who
|
||
believed the opposite of what I wished to say and who wanted the
|
||
opposite of what I believed in. Then I had to spend a couple of hours in
|
||
persuading two or three thousand people to give up the opinions they had
|
||
first held, in destroying the foundations of their views with one blow
|
||
after another and finally in leading them over to take their stand on
|
||
the grounds of our own convictions and our WELTANSCHAUUNG.
|
||
|
||
I learned something that was important at that time, namely, to snatch
|
||
from the hands of the enemy the weapons which he was using in his reply.
|
||
I soon noticed that our adversaries, especially in the persons of those
|
||
who led the discussion against us, were furnished with a definite
|
||
repertoire of arguments out of which they took points against our claims
|
||
which were being constantly repeated. The uniform character of this mode
|
||
of procedure pointed to a systematic and unified training. And so we
|
||
were able to recognize the incredible way in which the enemy's
|
||
propagandists had been disciplined, and I am proud to-day that I
|
||
discovered a means not only of making this propaganda ineffective but of
|
||
beating the artificers of it at their own work. Two years later I was
|
||
master of that art.
|
||
|
||
In every speech which I made it was important to get a clear idea
|
||
beforehand of the probable form and matter of the counter-arguments we
|
||
had to expect in the discussion, so that in the course of my own speech
|
||
these could be dealt with and refuted. To this end it was necessary to
|
||
mention all the possible objections and show their inconsistency; it was
|
||
all the easier to win over an honest listener by expunging from his
|
||
memory the arguments which had been impressed upon it, so that we
|
||
anticipated our replies. What he had learned was refuted without having
|
||
been mentioned by him and that made him all the more attentive to what I
|
||
had to say.
|
||
|
||
That was the reason why, after my first lecture on the 'Peace Treaty of
|
||
Versailles,' which I delivered to the troops while I was still a
|
||
political instructor in my regiment, I made an alteration in the title
|
||
and subject and henceforth spoke on 'The Treaties of Brest-Litowsk and
|
||
Versailles.' For after the discussion which followed my first lecture I
|
||
quickly ascertained that in reality people knew nothing about the Treaty
|
||
of Brest-Litowsk and that able party propaganda had succeeded in
|
||
presenting that Treaty as one of the most scandalous acts of violence in
|
||
the history of the world.
|
||
|
||
As a result of the persistency with which this falsehood was repeated
|
||
again and again before the masses of the people, millions of Germans saw
|
||
in the Treaty of Versailles a just castigation for the crime we had
|
||
committed at Brest-Litowsk. Thus they considered all opposition to
|
||
Versailles as unjust and in many cases there was an honest moral dislike
|
||
to such a proceeding. And this was also the reason why the shameless and
|
||
monstrous word 'Reparations' came into common use in Germany. This
|
||
hypocritical falsehood appeared to millions of our exasperated fellow
|
||
countrymen as the fulfilment of a higher justice. It is a terrible
|
||
thought, but the fact was so. The best proof of this was the propaganda
|
||
which I initiated against Versailles by explaining the Treaty of
|
||
Brest-Litowsk. I compared the two treaties with one another, point by
|
||
point, and showed how in truth the one treaty was immensely humane, in
|
||
contradistinction to the inhuman barbarity of the other. The effect was
|
||
very striking. Then I spoke on this theme before an assembly of two
|
||
thousand persons, during which I often saw three thousand six hundred
|
||
hostile eyes fixed on me. And three hours later I had in front of me a
|
||
swaying mass of righteous indignation and fury. A great lie had been
|
||
uprooted from the hearts and brains of a crowd composed of thousands of
|
||
individuals and a truth had been implanted in its place.
|
||
|
||
The two lectures--that 'On the Causes of the World War' and 'On the
|
||
Peace Treaties of Brest-Litowsk and Versailles' respectively--I then
|
||
considered as the most important of all. Therefore I repeated them
|
||
dozens of times, always giving them a new intonation; until at least on
|
||
those points a definitely clear and unanimous opinion reigned among
|
||
those from whom our movement recruited its first members.
|
||
|
||
Furthermore, these gatherings brought me the advantage that I slowly
|
||
became a platform orator at mass meetings, and gave me practice in the
|
||
pathos and gesture required in large halls that held thousands of
|
||
people.
|
||
|
||
Outside of the small circles which I have mentioned, at that time I
|
||
found no party engaged in explaining things to the people in this way.
|
||
Not one of these parties was then active which talk to-day as if it was
|
||
they who had brought about the change in public opinion. If a political
|
||
leader, calling himself a nationalist, pronounced a discourse somewhere
|
||
or other on this theme it was only before circles which for the most
|
||
part were already of his own conviction and among whom the most that was
|
||
done was to confirm them in their opinions. But that was not what was
|
||
needed then. What was needed was to win over through propaganda and
|
||
explanation those whose opinions and mental attitudes held them bound to
|
||
the enemy's camp.
|
||
|
||
The one-page circular was also adopted by us to help in this propaganda.
|
||
While still a soldier I had written a circular in which I contrasted the
|
||
Treaty of Brest-Litowsk with that of Versailles. That circular was
|
||
printed and distributed in large numbers. Later on I used it for the
|
||
party, and also with good success. Our first meetings were distinguished
|
||
by the fact that there were tables covered with leaflets, papers, and
|
||
pamphlets of every kind. But we relied principally on the spoken word.
|
||
And, in fact, this is the only means capable of producing really great
|
||
revolutions, which can be explained on general psychological grounds.
|
||
|
||
In the first volume I have already stated that all the formidable events
|
||
which have changed the aspect of the world were carried through, not by
|
||
the written but by the spoken word. On that point there was a long
|
||
discussion in a certain section of the Press during the course of which
|
||
our shrewd bourgeois people strongly opposed my thesis. But the reason
|
||
for this attitude confounded the sceptics. The bourgeois intellectuals
|
||
protested against my attitude simply because they themselves did not
|
||
have the force or ability to influence the masses through the spoken
|
||
word; for they always relied exclusively on the help of writers and did
|
||
not enter the arena themselves as orators for the purpose of arousing
|
||
the people. The development of events necessarily led to that condition
|
||
of affairs which is characteristic of the bourgeoisie to-day, namely,
|
||
the loss of the psychological instinct to act upon and influence the
|
||
masses.
|
||
|
||
An orator receives continuous guidance from the people before whom he
|
||
speaks. This helps him to correct the direction of his speech; for he
|
||
can always gauge, by the faces of his hearers, how far they follow and
|
||
understand him, and whether his words are producing the desired effect.
|
||
But the writer does not know his reader at all. Therefore, from the
|
||
outset he does not address himself to a definite human group of persons
|
||
which he has before his eyes but must write in a general way. Hence, up
|
||
to a certain extent he must fail in psychological finesse and
|
||
flexibility. Therefore, in general it may be said that a brilliant
|
||
orator writes better than a brilliant writer can speak, unless the
|
||
latter has continual practice in public speaking. One must also remember
|
||
that of itself the multitude is mentally inert, that it remains attached
|
||
to its old habits and that it is not naturally prone to read something
|
||
which does not conform with its own pre-established beliefs when such
|
||
writing does not contain what the multitude hopes to find there.
|
||
Therefore, some piece of writing which has a particular tendency is for
|
||
the most part read only by those who are in sympathy with it. Only a
|
||
leaflet or a placard, on account of its brevity, can hope to arouse a
|
||
momentary interest in those whose opinions differ from it. The picture,
|
||
in all its forms, including the film, has better prospects. Here there
|
||
is less need of elaborating the appeal to the intelligence. It is
|
||
sufficient if one be careful to have quite short texts, because many
|
||
people are more ready to accept a pictorial presentation than to read a
|
||
long written description. In a much shorter time, at one stroke I might
|
||
say, people will understand a pictorial presentation of something which
|
||
it would take them a long and laborious effort of reading to understand.
|
||
|
||
The most important consideration, however, is that one never knows into
|
||
what hands a piece of written material comes and yet the form in which
|
||
its subject is presented must remain the same. In general the effect is
|
||
greater when the form of treatment corresponds to the mental level of
|
||
the reader and suits his nature. Therefore, a book which is meant for
|
||
the broad masses of the people must try from the very start to gain its
|
||
effects through a style and level of ideas which would be quite
|
||
different from a book intended to be read by the higher intellectual
|
||
classes.
|
||
|
||
Only through his capacity for adaptability does the force of the written
|
||
word approach that of oral speech. The orator may deal with the same
|
||
subject as a book deals with; but if he has the genius of a great and
|
||
popular orator he will scarcely ever repeat the same argument or the
|
||
same material in the same form on two consecutive occasions. He will
|
||
always follow the lead of the great mass in such a way that from the
|
||
living emotion of his hearers the apt word which he needs will be
|
||
suggested to him and in its turn this will go straight to the hearts of
|
||
his hearers. Should he make even a slight mistake he has the living
|
||
correction before him. As I have already said, he can read the play of
|
||
expression on the faces of his hearers, first to see if they understand
|
||
what he says, secondly to see if they take in the whole of his argument,
|
||
and, thirdly, in how far they are convinced of the justice of what has
|
||
been placed before them. Should he observe, first, that his hearers do
|
||
not understand him he will make his explanation so elementary and clear
|
||
that they will be able to grasp it, even to the last individual.
|
||
Secondly, if he feels that they are not capable of following him he will
|
||
make one idea follow another carefully and slowly until the most
|
||
slow-witted hearer no longer lags behind. Thirdly, as soon as he has the
|
||
feeling that they do not seem convinced that he is right in the way he
|
||
has put things to them he will repeat his argument over and over again,
|
||
always giving fresh illustrations, and he himself will state their
|
||
unspoken objection. He will repeat these objections, dissecting them and
|
||
refuting them, until the last group of the opposition show him by their
|
||
behaviour and play of expression that they have capitulated before his
|
||
exposition of the case.
|
||
|
||
Not infrequently it is a case of overcoming ingrained prejudices which
|
||
are mostly unconscious and are supported by sentiment rather than
|
||
reason. It is a thousand times more difficult to overcome this barrier
|
||
of instinctive aversion, emotional hatred and preventive dissent than to
|
||
correct opinions which are founded on defective or erroneous knowledge.
|
||
False ideas and ignorance may be set aside by means of instruction, but
|
||
emotional resistance never can. Nothing but an appeal to these hidden
|
||
forces will be effective here. And that appeal can be made by scarcely
|
||
any writer. Only the orator can hope to make it.
|
||
|
||
A very striking proof of this is found in the fact that, though we had a
|
||
bourgeois Press which in many cases was well written and produced and
|
||
had a circulation of millions among the people, it could not prevent the
|
||
broad masses from becoming the implacable enemies of the bourgeois
|
||
class. The deluge of papers and books published by the intellectual
|
||
circles year after year passed over the millions of the lower social
|
||
strata like water over glazed leather. This proves that one of two
|
||
things must be true: either that the matter offered in the bourgeois
|
||
Press was worthless or that it is impossible to reach the hearts of the
|
||
broad masses by means of the written word alone. Of course, the latter
|
||
would be specially true where the written material shows such little
|
||
psychological insight as has hitherto been the case.
|
||
|
||
It is useless to object here, as certain big Berlin papers of
|
||
German-National tendencies have attempted to do, that this statement is
|
||
refuted by the fact that the Marxists have exercised their greatest
|
||
influence through their writings, and especially through their principal
|
||
book, published by Karl Marx. Seldom has a more superficial argument
|
||
been based on a false assumption. What gave Marxism its amazing
|
||
influence over the broad masses was not that formal printed work which
|
||
sets forth the Jewish system of ideas, but the tremendous oral
|
||
propaganda carried on for years among the masses. Out of one hundred
|
||
thousand German workers scarcely one hundred know of Marx's book. It has
|
||
been studied much more in intellectual circles and especially by the
|
||
Jews than by the genuine followers of the movement who come from the
|
||
lower classes. That work was not written for the masses, but exclusively
|
||
for the intellectual leaders of the Jewish machine for conquering the
|
||
world. The engine was heated with quite different stuff: namely, the
|
||
journalistic Press. What differentiates the bourgeois Press from the
|
||
Marxist Press is that the latter is written by agitators, whereas the
|
||
bourgeois Press would like to carry on agitation by means of
|
||
professional writers. The Social-Democrat sub-editor, who almost always
|
||
came directly from the meeting to the editorial offices of his paper,
|
||
felt his job on his finger-tips. But the bourgeois writer who left his
|
||
desk to appear before the masses already felt ill when he smelled the
|
||
very odour of the crowd and found that what he had written was useless
|
||
to him.
|
||
|
||
What won over millions of workpeople to the Marxist cause was not the EX
|
||
CATHEDRA style of the Marxist writers but the formidable propagandist
|
||
work done by tens of thousands of indefatigable agitators, commencing
|
||
with the leading fiery agitator down to the smallest official in the
|
||
syndicate, the trusted delegate and the platform orator. Furthermore,
|
||
there were the hundreds of thousands of meetings where these orators,
|
||
standing on tables in smoky taverns, hammered their ideas into the heads
|
||
of the masses, thus acquiring an admirable psychological knowledge of
|
||
the human material they had to deal with. And in this way they were
|
||
enabled to select the best weapons for their assault on the citadel of
|
||
public opinion. In addition to all this there were the gigantic
|
||
mass-demonstrations with processions in which a hundred thousand men
|
||
took part. All this was calculated to impress on the petty-hearted
|
||
individual the proud conviction that, though a small worm, he was at the
|
||
same time a cell of the great dragon before whose devastating breath the
|
||
hated bourgeois world would one day be consumed in fire and flame, and
|
||
the dictatorship of the proletariat would celebrate its conclusive
|
||
victory.
|
||
|
||
This kind of propaganda influenced men in such a way as to give them a
|
||
taste for reading the Social Democratic Press and prepare their minds
|
||
for its teaching. That Press, in its turn, was a vehicle of the spoken
|
||
word rather than of the written word. Whereas in the bourgeois camp
|
||
professors and learned writers, theorists and authors of all kinds, made
|
||
attempts at talking, in the Marxist camp real speakers often made
|
||
attempts at writing. And it was precisely the Jew who was most prominent
|
||
here. In general and because of his shrewd dialectical skill and his
|
||
knack of twisting the truth to suit his own purposes, he was an
|
||
effective writer but in reality his M<>TIER was that of a revolutionary
|
||
orator rather than a writer.
|
||
|
||
For this reason the journalistic bourgeois world, setting aside the fact
|
||
that here also the Jew held the whip hand and that therefore this press
|
||
did not really interest itself in the instructtion of the broad masses,
|
||
was not able to exercise even the least influence over the opinions held
|
||
by the great masses of our people.
|
||
|
||
It is difficult to remove emotional prejudices, psychological bias,
|
||
feelings, etc., and to put others in their place. Success depends here
|
||
on imponderable conditions and influences. Only the orator who is gifted
|
||
with the most sensitive insight can estimate all this. Even the time of
|
||
day at which the speech is delivered has a decisive influence on its
|
||
results. The same speech, made by the same orator and on the same theme,
|
||
will have very different results according as it is delivered at ten
|
||
o'clock in the forenoon, at three in the afternoon, or in the evening.
|
||
When I first engaged in public speaking I arranged for meetings to take
|
||
place in the forenoon and I remember particularly a demonstration that
|
||
we held in the Munich Kindl Keller 'Against the Oppression of German
|
||
Districts.' That was the biggest hall then in Munich and the audacity of
|
||
our undertaking was great. In order to make the hour of the meeting
|
||
attractive for all the members of our movement and the other people who
|
||
might come, I fixed it for ten o'clock on a Sunday morning. The result
|
||
was depressing. But it was very instructive. The hall was filled. The
|
||
impression was profound, but the general feeling was cold as ice. Nobody
|
||
got warmed up, and I myself, as the speaker of the occasion, felt
|
||
profoundly unhappy at the thought that I could not establish the
|
||
slightest contact with my audience. I do not think I spoke worse than
|
||
before, but the effect seemed absolutely negative. I left the hall very
|
||
discontented, but also feeling that I had gained a new experience. Later
|
||
on I tried the same kind of experiment, but always with the same
|
||
results.
|
||
|
||
That was nothing to be wondered at. If one goes to a theatre to see a
|
||
matin<EFBFBD>e performance and then attends an evening performance of the same
|
||
play one is astounded at the difference in the impressions created. A
|
||
sensitive person recognizes for himself the fact that these two states
|
||
of mind caused by the matinee and the evening performance respectively
|
||
are quite different in themselves. The same is true of cinema
|
||
productions. This latter point is important; for one may say of the
|
||
theatre that perhaps in the afternoon the actor does not make the same
|
||
effort as in the evening. But surely it cannot be said that the cinema
|
||
is different in the afternoon from what it is at nine o'clock in the
|
||
evening. No, here the time exercises a distinct influence, just as a
|
||
room exercises a distinct influence on a person. There are rooms which
|
||
leave one cold, for reasons which are difficult to explain. There are
|
||
rooms which refuse steadfastly to allow any favourable atmosphere to be
|
||
created in them. Moreover, certain memories and traditions which are
|
||
present as pictures in the human mind may have a determining influence
|
||
on the impression produced. Thus, a representation of Parsifal at
|
||
Bayreuth will have an effect quite different from that which the same
|
||
opera produces in any other part of the world. The mysterious charm of
|
||
the House on the 'Festival Heights' in the old city of The Margrave
|
||
cannot be equalled or substituted anywhere else.
|
||
|
||
In all these cases one deals with the problem of influencing the freedom
|
||
of the human will. And that is true especially of meetings where there
|
||
are men whose wills are opposed to the speaker and who must be brought
|
||
around to a new way of thinking. In the morning and during the day it
|
||
seems that the power of the human will rebels with its strongest energy
|
||
against any attempt to impose upon it the will or opinion of another. On
|
||
the other hand, in the evening it easily succumbs to the domination of a
|
||
stronger will. Because really in such assemblies there is a contest
|
||
between two opposite forces. The superior oratorical art of a man who
|
||
has the compelling character of an apostle will succeed better in
|
||
bringing around to a new way of thinking those who have naturally been
|
||
subjected to a weakening of their forces of resistance rather than in
|
||
converting those who are in full possession of their volitional and
|
||
intellectual energies.
|
||
|
||
The mysterious artificial dimness of the Catholic churches also serves
|
||
this purpose, the burning candles, the incense, the thurible, etc.
|
||
|
||
In this struggle between the orator and the opponent whom he must
|
||
convert to his cause this marvellous sensibility towards the
|
||
psychological influences of propaganda can hardly ever be availed of by
|
||
an author. Generally speaking, the effect of the writer's work helps
|
||
rather to conserve, reinforce and deepen the foundations of a mentality
|
||
already existing. All really great historical revolutions were not
|
||
produced by the written word. At most, they were accompanied by it.
|
||
|
||
It is out of the question to think that the French Revolution could have
|
||
been carried into effect by philosophizing theories if they had not
|
||
found an army of agitators led by demagogues of the grand style. These
|
||
demagogues inflamed popular passion that had been already aroused, until
|
||
that volcanic eruption finally broke out and convulsed the whole of
|
||
Europe. And the same happened in the case of the gigantic Bolshevik
|
||
revolution which recently took place in Russia. It was not due to the
|
||
writers on Lenin's side but to the oratorical activities of those who
|
||
preached the doctrine of hatred and that of the innumerable small and
|
||
great orators who took part in the agitation.
|
||
|
||
The masses of illiterate Russians were not fired to Communist
|
||
revolutionary enthusiasm by reading the theories of Karl Marx but by the
|
||
promises of paradise made to the people by thousands of agitators in the
|
||
service of an idea.
|
||
|
||
It was always so, and it will always be so.
|
||
|
||
It is just typical of our pig-headed intellectuals, who live apart from
|
||
the practical world, to think that a writer must of necessity be
|
||
superior to an orator in intelligence. This point of view was once
|
||
exquisitely illustrated by a critique, published in a certain National
|
||
paper which I have already mentioned, where it was stated that one is
|
||
often disillusioned by reading the speech of an acknowledged great
|
||
orator in print. That reminded me of another article which came into my
|
||
hands during the War. It dealt with the speeches of Lloyd George, who
|
||
was then Minister of Munitions, and examined them in a painstaking way
|
||
under the microscope of criticism. The writer made the brilliant
|
||
statement that these speeches showed inferior intelligence and learning
|
||
and that, moreover, they were banal and commonplace productions. I
|
||
myself procured some of these speeches, published in pamphlet form, and
|
||
had to laugh at the fact that a normal German quill-driver did not in
|
||
the least understand these psychological masterpieces in the art of
|
||
influencing the masses. This man criticized these speeches exclusively
|
||
according to the impression they made on his own blas<61> mind, whereas the
|
||
great British Demagogue had produced an immense effect on his audience
|
||
through them, and in the widest sense on the whole of the British
|
||
populace. Looked at from this point of view, that Englishman's speeches
|
||
were most wonderful achievements, precisely because they showed an
|
||
astounding knowledge of the soul of the broad masses of the people. For
|
||
that reason their effect was really penetrating. Compare with them the
|
||
futile stammerings of a Bethmann-Hollweg. On the surface his speeches
|
||
were undoubtedly more intellectual, but they just proved this man's
|
||
inability to speak to the people, which he really could not do.
|
||
Nevertheless, to the average stupid brain of the German writer, who is,
|
||
of course, endowed with a lot of scientific learning, it came quite
|
||
natural to judge the speeches of the English Minister--which were made
|
||
for the purpose of influencing the masses--by the impression which they
|
||
made on his own mind, fossilized in its abstract learning. And it was
|
||
more natural for him to compare them in the light of that impression
|
||
with the brilliant but futile talk of the German statesman, which of
|
||
course appealed to the writer's mind much more favourably. That the
|
||
genius of Lloyd George was not only equal but a thousandfold superior to
|
||
that of a Bethmann-Hollweg is proved by the fact that he found for his
|
||
speeches that form and expression which opened the hearts of his people
|
||
to him and made these people carry out his will absolutely. The
|
||
primitive quality itself of those speeches, the originality of his
|
||
expressions, his choice of clear and simple illustration, are examples
|
||
which prove the superior political capacity of this Englishman. For one
|
||
must never judge the speech of a statesman to his people by the
|
||
impression which it leaves on the mind of a university professor but by
|
||
the effect it produces on the people. And this is the sole criterion of
|
||
the orator's genius.
|
||
|
||
The astonishing development of our movement, which was created from
|
||
nothing a few years ago and is to-day singled out for persecution by all
|
||
the internal and external enemies of our nation, must be attributed to
|
||
the constant recognition and practical application of those principles.
|
||
|
||
Written matter also played an important part in our movement; but at the
|
||
stage of which I am writing it served to give an equal and uniform
|
||
education to the directors of the movement, in the upper as well as in
|
||
the lower grades, rather than to convert the masses of our adversaries.
|
||
It was only in very rare cases that a convinced and devoted Social
|
||
Democrat or Communist was induced to acquire an understanding of our
|
||
WELTANSCHAUUNG or to study a criticism of his own by procuring and
|
||
reading one of our pamphlets or even one of our books. Even a newspaper
|
||
is rarely read if it does not bear the stamp of a party affiliation.
|
||
Moreover, the reading of newspapers helps little; because the general
|
||
picture given by a single number of a newspaper is so confused and
|
||
produces such a fragmentary impression that it really does not influence
|
||
the occasional reader. And where a man has to count his pennies it
|
||
cannot be assumed that, exclusively for the purpose of being objectively
|
||
informed, he will become a regular reader or subscriber to a paper which
|
||
opposes his views. Only one who has already joined a movement will
|
||
regularly read the party organ of that movement, and especially for the
|
||
purpose of keeping himself informed of what is happening in the
|
||
movement.
|
||
|
||
It is quite different with the 'spoken' leaflet. Especially if it be
|
||
distributed gratis it will be taken up by one person or another, all the
|
||
more willingly if its display title refers to a question about which
|
||
everybody is talking at the moment. Perhaps the reader, after having
|
||
read through such a leaflet more or less thoughtfully, will have new
|
||
viewpoints and mental attitudes and may give his attention to a new
|
||
movement. But with these, even in the best of cases, only a small
|
||
impulse will be given, but no definite conviction will be created;
|
||
because the leaflet can do nothing more than draw attention to something
|
||
and can become effective only by bringing the reader subsequently into a
|
||
situation where he is more fundamentally informed and instructed. Such
|
||
instruction must always be given at the mass assembly.
|
||
|
||
Mass assemblies are also necessary for the reason that, in attending
|
||
them, the individual who felt himself formerly only on the point of
|
||
joining the new movement, now begins to feel isolated and in fear of
|
||
being left alone as he acquires for the first time the picture of a
|
||
great community which has a strengthening and encouraging effect on most
|
||
people. Brigaded in a company or battalion, surrounded by his
|
||
companions, he will march with a lighter heart to the attack than if he
|
||
had to march alone. In the crowd he feels himself in some way thus
|
||
sheltered, though in reality there are a thousand arguments against such
|
||
a feeling.
|
||
|
||
Mass demonstrations on the grand scale not only reinforce the will of
|
||
the individual but they draw him still closer to the movement and help
|
||
to create an ESPRIT DE CORPS. The man who appears first as the
|
||
representative of a new doctrine in his place of business or in his
|
||
factory is bound to feel himself embarrassed and has need of that
|
||
reinforcement which comes from the consciousness that he is a member of
|
||
a great community. And only a mass demonstration can impress upon him
|
||
the greatness of this community. If, on leaving the shop or mammoth
|
||
factory, in which he feels very small indeed, he should enter a vast
|
||
assembly for the first time and see around him thousands and thousands
|
||
of men who hold the same opinions; if, while still seeking his way, he
|
||
is gripped by the force of mass-suggestion which comes from the
|
||
excitement and enthusiasm of three or four thousand other men in whose
|
||
midst he finds himself; if the manifest success and the concensus of
|
||
thousands confirm the truth and justice of the new teaching and for the
|
||
first time raise doubt in his mind as to the truth of the opinions held
|
||
by himself up to now--then he submits himself to the fascination of
|
||
what we call mass-suggestion. The will, the yearning and indeed the
|
||
strength of thousands of people are in each individual. A man who enters
|
||
such a meeting in doubt and hesitation leaves it inwardly fortified; he
|
||
has become a member of a community.
|
||
|
||
The National Socialist Movement should never forget this, and it should
|
||
never allow itself to be influenced by these bourgeois duffers who think
|
||
they know everything but who have foolishly gambled away a great State,
|
||
together with their own existence and the supremacy of their own class.
|
||
They are overflowing with ability; they can do everything, and they know
|
||
everything. But there is one thing they have not known how to do, and
|
||
that is how to save the German people from falling into the arms of
|
||
Marxism. In that they have shown themselves most pitiably and miserably
|
||
impotent. So that the present opinion they have of themselves is only
|
||
equal to their conceit. Their pride and stupidity are fruits of the same
|
||
tree.
|
||
|
||
If these people try to disparage the importance of the spoken word
|
||
to-day, they do it only because they realize--God be praised and
|
||
thanked--how futile all their own speechifying has been.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
CHAPTER VII
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
THE CONFLICT WITH THE RED FORCES
|
||
|
||
|
||
In 1919-20 and also in 1921 I attended some of the bourgeois meetings.
|
||
Invariably I had the same feeling towards these as towards the
|
||
compulsory dose of castor oil in my boyhood days. It just had to be
|
||
taken because it was good for one: but it certainly tasted unpleasant.
|
||
If it were possible to tie ropes round the German people and forcibly
|
||
drag them to these bourgeois meetings, keeping them there behind barred
|
||
doors and allowing nobody to escape until the meeting closed, then this
|
||
procedure might prove successful in the course of a few hundred years.
|
||
For my own part, I must frankly admit that, under such circumstances, I
|
||
could not find life worth living; and indeed I should no longer wish to
|
||
be a German. But, thank God, all this is impossible. And so it is not
|
||
surprising that the sane and unspoilt masses shun these 'bourgeois mass
|
||
meetings' as the devil shuns holy water.
|
||
|
||
I came to know the prophets of the bourgeois WELTANSCHAUUNG, and I was
|
||
not surprised at what I learned, as I knew that they attached little
|
||
importance to the spoken word. At that time I attended meetings of the
|
||
Democrats, the German Nationalists, the German People's Party and the
|
||
Bavarian People's Party (the Centre Party of Bavaria). What struck me at
|
||
once was the homogeneous uniformity of the audiences. Nearly always they
|
||
were made up exclusively of party members. The whole affair was more
|
||
like a yawning card party than an assembly of people who had just passed
|
||
through a great revolution. The speakers did all they could to maintain
|
||
this tranquil atmosphere. They declaimed, or rather read out, their
|
||
speeches in the style of an intellectual newspaper article or a learned
|
||
treatise, avoiding all striking expressions. Here and there a feeble
|
||
professorial joke would be introduced, whereupon the people sitting at
|
||
the speaker's table felt themselves obliged to laugh--not loudly but
|
||
encouragingly and with well-bred reserve.
|
||
|
||
And there were always those people at the speaker's table. I once
|
||
attended a meeting in the Wagner Hall in Munich. It was a demonstration
|
||
to celebrate the anniversary of the Battle of Leipzig. (Note 17) The
|
||
speech was delivered or rather read out by a venerable old professor from
|
||
one or other of the universities. The committee sat on the platform: one
|
||
monocle on the right, another monocle on the left, and in the centre a
|
||
gentleman with no monocle. All three of them were punctiliously attired
|
||
in morning coats, and I had the impression of being present before a
|
||
judge's bench just as the death sentence was about to be pronounced or
|
||
at a christening or some more solemn religious ceremony. The so-called
|
||
speech, which in printed form may have read quite well, had a disastrous
|
||
effect. After three quarters of an hour the audience fell into a sort of
|
||
hypnotic trance, which was interrupted only when some man or woman left
|
||
the hall, or by the clatter which the waitresses made, or by the
|
||
increasing yawns of slumbering individuals. I had posted myself behind
|
||
three workmen who were present either out of curiosity or because they
|
||
were sent there by their parties. From time to time they glanced at one
|
||
another with an ill-concealed grin, nudged one another with the elbow,
|
||
and then silently left the hall. One could see that they had no
|
||
intention whatsoever of interrupting the proceedings, nor indeed was it
|
||
necessary to interrupt them. At long last the celebration showed signs
|
||
of drawing to a close. After the professor, whose voice had meanwhile
|
||
become more and more inaudible, finally ended his speech, the gentleman
|
||
without the monocle delivered a rousing peroration to the assembled
|
||
'German sisters and brothers.' On behalf of the audience and himself he
|
||
expressed gratitude for the magnificent lecture which they had just
|
||
heard from Professor X and emphasized how deeply the Professor's words
|
||
had moved them all. If a general discussion on the lecture were to take
|
||
place it would be tantamount to profanity, and he thought he was voicing
|
||
the opinion of all present in suggesting that such a discussion should
|
||
not be held. Therefore, he would ask the assembly to rise from their
|
||
seats and join in singing the patriotic song, WIR SIND EIN EINIG VOLK
|
||
VON BR<42>DERN. The proceedings finally closed with the anthem, DEUTSCHLAND
|
||
<EFBFBD>BER ALLES.
|
||
|
||
[Note 17. The Battle of Leipzig (1813), where the Germans inflicted an
|
||
overwhelming defeat on Napoleon, was the decisive event which put an end
|
||
to the French occupation of Germany.
|
||
|
||
The occupation had lasted about twenty years. After the Great War, and
|
||
the partial occupation of Germany once again by French forces, the
|
||
Germans used to celebrate the anniversary of the Battle of Leipzig as a
|
||
symbol of their yearning.]
|
||
|
||
And then they all sang. It appeared to me that when the second verse was
|
||
reached the voices were fewer and that only when the refrain came on
|
||
they swelled loudly. When we reached the third verse my belief was
|
||
confirmed that a good many of those present were not very familiar with
|
||
the text.
|
||
|
||
But what has all this to do with the matter when such a song is sung
|
||
wholeheartedly and fervidly by an assembly of German nationals?
|
||
|
||
After this the meeting broke up and everyone hurried to get outside, one
|
||
to his glass of beer, one to a cafe, and others simply into the fresh
|
||
air.
|
||
|
||
Out into the fresh air! That was also my feeling. And was this the way
|
||
to honour an heroic struggle in which hundreds of thousands of Prussians
|
||
and Germans had fought? To the devil with it all!
|
||
|
||
That sort of thing might find favour with the Government, it being
|
||
merely a 'peaceful' meeting. The Minister responsible for law and order
|
||
need not fear that enthusiasm might suddenly get the better of public
|
||
decorum and induce these people to pour out of the room and, instead of
|
||
dispersing to beer halls and cafes, march in rows of four through the
|
||
town singing DEUTSCHLAND hoch in Ehren and causing some unpleasantness
|
||
to a police force in need of rest.
|
||
|
||
No. That type of citizen is of no use to anyone.
|
||
|
||
On the other hand the National Socialist meetings were by no means
|
||
'peaceable' affairs. Two distinct WELTANSCHHAUUNGen raged in bitter
|
||
opposition to one another, and these meetings did not close with the
|
||
mechanical rendering of a dull patriotic song but rather with a
|
||
passionate outbreak of popular national feeling.
|
||
|
||
It was imperative from the start to introduce rigid discipline into our
|
||
meetings and establish the authority of the chairman absolutely. Our
|
||
purpose was not to pour out a mixture of soft-soap bourgeois talk; what
|
||
we had to say was meant to arouse the opponents at our meetings! How
|
||
often did they not turn up in masses with a few individual agitators
|
||
among them and, judging by the expression on all their faces, ready to
|
||
finish us off there and then.
|
||
|
||
Yes, how often did they not turn up in huge numbers, those supporters of
|
||
the Red Flag, all previously instructed to smash up everything once and
|
||
for all and put an end to these meetings. More often than not everything
|
||
hung on a mere thread, and only the chairman's ruthless determination
|
||
and the rough handling by our ushers baffled our adversaries'
|
||
intentions. And indeed they had every reason for being irritated.
|
||
|
||
The fact that we had chosen red as the colour for our posters sufficed
|
||
to attract them to our meetings. The ordinary bourgeoisie were very
|
||
shocked to see that, we had also chosen the symbolic red of Bolshevism
|
||
and they regarded this as something ambiguously significant. The
|
||
suspicion was whispered in German Nationalist circles that we also were
|
||
merely another variety of Marxism, perhaps even Marxists suitably
|
||
disguised, or better still, Socialists. The actual difference between
|
||
Socialism and Marxism still remains a mystery to these people up to this
|
||
day. The charge of Marxism was conclusively proved when it was
|
||
discovered that at our meetings we deliberately substituted the words
|
||
'Fellow-countrymen and Women' for 'Ladies and Gentlemen' and addressed
|
||
each other as 'Party Comrade'. We used to roar with laughter at these
|
||
silly faint-hearted bourgeoisie and their efforts to puzzle out our
|
||
origin, our intentions and our aims.
|
||
|
||
We chose red for our posters after particular and careful deliberation,
|
||
our intention being to irritate the Left, so as to arouse their
|
||
attention and tempt them to come to our meetings--if only in order to
|
||
break them up--so that in this way we got a chance of talking to the
|
||
people.
|
||
|
||
In those years' it was indeed a delightful experience to follow the
|
||
constantly changing tactics of our perplexed and helpless adversaries.
|
||
First of all they appealed to their followers to ignore us and keep away
|
||
from our meetings. Generally speaking this appeal was heeded. But, as
|
||
time went on, more and more of their followers gradually found their way
|
||
to us and accepted our teaching. Then the leaders became nervous and
|
||
uneasy. They clung to their belief that such a development should not be
|
||
ignored for ever, and that terror must be applied in order to put an end
|
||
to it.
|
||
|
||
Appeals were then made to the 'class-conscious proletariat' to attend
|
||
our meetings in masses and strike with the clenched hand of the
|
||
proletarian at the representatives of a 'monarchist and reactionary
|
||
agitation'.
|
||
|
||
Our meetings suddenly became packed with work-people fully
|
||
three-quarters of an hour before the proceedings were scheduled to
|
||
begin. These gatherings resembled a powder cask ready to explode at any
|
||
moment; and the fuse was conveniently at hand. But matters always turned
|
||
out differently. People came as enemies and left, not perhaps prepared
|
||
to join us, yet in a reflective mood and disposed critically to examine
|
||
the correctness of their own doctrine. Gradually as time went on my
|
||
three-hour lectures resulted in supporters and opponents becoming united
|
||
in one single enthusiastic group of people. Every signal for the
|
||
breaking-up of the meeting failed. The result was that the opposition
|
||
leaders became frightened and once again looked for help to those
|
||
quarters that had formerly discountenanced these tactics and, with some
|
||
show of right, had been of the opinion that on principle the workers
|
||
should be forbidden to attend our meetings.
|
||
|
||
Then they did not come any more, or only in small numbers. But after a
|
||
short time the whole game started all over again. The instructions to
|
||
keep away from us were ignored; the comrades came in steadily increasing
|
||
numbers, until finally the advocates of the radical tactics won the day.
|
||
We were to be broken up.
|
||
|
||
Yet when, after two, three and even eight meetings, it was realized that
|
||
to break up these gatherings was easier said than done and that every
|
||
meeting resulted in a decisive weakening of the red fighting forces,
|
||
then suddenly the other password was introduced: 'Proletarians, comrades
|
||
and comradesses, avoid meetings of the National Socialist agitators'.
|
||
|
||
The same eternally alternating tactics were also to be observed in the
|
||
Red Press. Soon they tried to silence us but discovered the uselessness
|
||
of such an attempt. After that they swung round to the opposite tactics.
|
||
Daily 'reference' was made to us solely for the purpose of absolutely
|
||
ridiculing us in the eyes of the working-classes. After a time these
|
||
gentlemen must have felt that no harm was being done to us, but that, on
|
||
the contrary, we were reaping an advantage in that people were asking
|
||
themselves why so much space was being devoted to a subject which was
|
||
supposed to be so ludicrous. People became curious. Suddenly there was a
|
||
change of tactics and for a time we were treated as veritable criminals
|
||
against mankind. One article followed the other, in which our criminal
|
||
intentions were explained and new proofs brought forward to support what
|
||
was said. Scandalous tales, all of them fabricated from start to finish,
|
||
were published in order to help to poison the public mind. But in a
|
||
short time even these attacks also proved futile; and in fact they
|
||
assisted materially because they attracted public attention to us.
|
||
|
||
In those days I took up the standpoint that it was immaterial whether
|
||
they laughed at us or reviled us, whether they depicted us as fools or
|
||
criminals; the important point was that they took notice of us and that
|
||
in the eyes of the working-classes we came to be regarded as the only
|
||
force capable of putting up a fight. I said to myself that the followers
|
||
of the Jewish Press would come to know all about us and our real aims.
|
||
|
||
One reason why they never got so far as breaking up our meetings was
|
||
undoubtedly the incredible cowardice displayed by the leaders of the
|
||
opposition. On every critical occasion they left the dirty work to the
|
||
smaller fry whilst they waited outside the halls for the results of the
|
||
break up.
|
||
|
||
We were exceptionally well informed in regard to our opponents'
|
||
intentions, not only because we allowed several of our party colleagues
|
||
to remain members of the Red organizations for reasons of expediency,
|
||
but also because the Red wire-pullers, fortunately for us, were
|
||
afflicted with a degree of talkativeness that is still unfortunately
|
||
very prevalent among Germans. They could not keep their own counsel, and
|
||
more often than not they started cackling before the proverbial egg was
|
||
laid. Hence, time and again our precautions were such that Red agitators
|
||
had no inkling of how near they were to being thrown out of the
|
||
meetings.
|
||
|
||
This state of affairs compelled us to take the work of safeguarding our
|
||
meetings into our own hands. No reliance could be placed on official
|
||
protection. On the contrary; experience showed that such protection
|
||
always favoured only the disturbers. The only real outcome of police
|
||
intervention would be that the meeting would be dissolved, that is to
|
||
say, closed. And that is precisely what our opponents granted.
|
||
|
||
Generally speaking, this led the police to adopt a procedure which, to
|
||
say the least, was a most infamous sample of official malpractice. The
|
||
moment they received information of a threat that the one or other
|
||
meeting was to be broken up, instead of arresting the would-be
|
||
disturbers, they promptly advised the innocent parties that the meeting
|
||
was forbidden. This step the police proclaimed as a 'precautionary
|
||
measure in the interests of law and order'.
|
||
|
||
The political work and activities of decent people could therefore
|
||
always be hindered by desperate ruffians who had the means at their
|
||
disposal. In the name of peace and order State authority bowed down to
|
||
these ruffians and demanded that others should not provoke them. When
|
||
National Socialism desired to hold meetings in certain parts and the
|
||
labour unions declared that their members would resist, then it was not
|
||
these blackmailers that were arrested and gaoled. No. Our meetings were
|
||
forbidden by the police. Yes, this organ of the law had the unspeakable
|
||
impudence to advise us in writing to this effect in innumerable
|
||
instances. To avoid such eventualities, it was necessary to see to it
|
||
that every attempt to disturb a meeting was nipped in the bud. Another
|
||
feature to be taken into account in this respect is that all meetings
|
||
which rely on police protection must necessarily bring discredit to
|
||
their promoters in the eyes of the general public. Meetings that are
|
||
only possible with the protective assistance of a strong force of police
|
||
convert nobody; because in order to win over the lower strata of the
|
||
people there must be a visible show of strength on one's own side. In
|
||
the same way that a man of courage will win a woman's affection more
|
||
easily than a coward, so a heroic movement will be more successful in
|
||
winning over the hearts of a people than a weak movement which relies on
|
||
police support for its very existence.
|
||
|
||
It is for this latter reason in particular that our young movement was
|
||
to be charged with the responsibility of assuring its own existence,
|
||
defending itself; and conducting its own work of smashing the Red
|
||
opposition.
|
||
|
||
The work of organizing the protective measures for our meetings was
|
||
based on the following:
|
||
|
||
(1) An energetic and psychologically judicious way of conducting the
|
||
meeting.
|
||
|
||
(2) An organized squad of troops to maintain order.
|
||
|
||
In those days we and no one else were masters of the situation at our
|
||
meetings and on no occasion did we fail to emphasize this. Our opponents
|
||
fully realized that any provocation would be the occasion of throwing
|
||
them out of the hall at once, whatever the odds against us. At meetings,
|
||
particularly outside Munich, we had in those days from five to eight
|
||
hundred opponents against fifteen to sixteen National Socialists; yet we
|
||
brooked no interference, for we were ready to be killed rather than
|
||
capitulate. More than once a handful of party colleagues offered a
|
||
heroic resistance to a raging and violent mob of Reds. Those fifteen or
|
||
twenty men would certainly have been overwhelmed in the end had not the
|
||
opponents known that three or four times as many of themselves would
|
||
first get their skulls cracked. Arid that risk they were not willing to
|
||
run. We had done our best to study Marxist and bourgeois methods of
|
||
conducting meetings, and we had certainly learnt something.
|
||
|
||
The Marxists had always exercised a most rigid discipline so that the
|
||
question of breaking up their meetings could never have originated in
|
||
bourgeois quarters. This gave the Reds all the more reason for acting on
|
||
this plan. In time they not only became past-masters in this art but in
|
||
certain large districts of the REICH they went so far as to declare that
|
||
non-Marxist meetings were nothing less than a cause of' provocation
|
||
against the proletariat. This was particularly the case when the
|
||
wire-pullers suspected that a meeting might call attention to their own
|
||
transgressions and thus expose their own treachery and chicanery.
|
||
Therefore the moment such a meeting was announced to be held a howl of
|
||
rage went up from the Red Press. These detractors of the law nearly
|
||
always turned first to the authorities and requested in imperative and
|
||
threatening language that this 'provocation of the proletariat' be
|
||
stopped forthwith in the 'interests of law and order'. Their language
|
||
was chosen according to the importance of the official blockhead they
|
||
were dealing with and thus success was assured. If by chance the
|
||
official happened to be a true German--and not a mere figurehead--and he
|
||
declined the impudent request, then the time-honoured appeal to stop
|
||
'provocation of the proletariat' was issued together with instructions
|
||
to attend such and such a meeting on a certain date in full strength for
|
||
the purpose of 'putting a stop to the disgraceful machinations of the
|
||
bourgeoisie by means of the proletarian fist'.
|
||
|
||
The pitiful and frightened manner in which these bourgeois meetings are
|
||
conducted must be seen in order to be believed. Very frequently these
|
||
threats were sufficient to call off such a meeting at once. The feeling
|
||
of fear was so marked that the meeting, instead of commencing at eight
|
||
o'clock, very seldom was opened before a quarter to nine or nine
|
||
o'clock. The Chairman thereupon did his best, by showering compliments
|
||
on the 'gentleman of the opposition' to prove how he and all others
|
||
present were pleased (a palpable lie) to welcome a visit from men who as
|
||
yet were not in sympathy with them for the reason that only by mutual
|
||
discussion (immediately agreed to) could they be brought closer together
|
||
in mutual understanding. Apart from this the Chairman also assured them
|
||
that the meeting had no intention whatsoever of interfering with the
|
||
professed convictions of anybody. Indeed no. Everyone had the right to
|
||
form and hold his own political views, but others should be allowed to
|
||
do likewise. He therefore requested that the speaker be allowed to
|
||
deliver his speech without interruption--the speech in any case not
|
||
being a long affair. People abroad, he continued, would thus not come to
|
||
regard this meeting as another shameful example of the bitter fraternal
|
||
strife that is raging in Germany. And so on and so forth
|
||
|
||
The brothers of the Left had little if any appreciation for that sort of
|
||
talk; the speaker had hardly commenced when he was shouted down. One
|
||
gathered the impression at times that these speakers were graceful for
|
||
being peremptorily cut short in their martyr-like discourse. These
|
||
bourgeois toreadors left the arena in the midst of a vast uproar, that
|
||
is to say, provided that they were not thrown down the stairs with
|
||
cracked skulls, which was very often the case.
|
||
|
||
Therefore, our methods of organization at National Socialist meetings
|
||
were something quite strange to the Marxists. They came to our meetings
|
||
in the belief that the little game which they had so often played could
|
||
as a matter of course be also repeated on us. "To-day we shall finish
|
||
them off." How often did they bawl this out to each other on entering
|
||
the meeting hall, only to be thrown out with lightning speed before they
|
||
had time to repeat it.
|
||
|
||
In the first place our method of conducting a meeting was entirely
|
||
different. We did not beg and pray to be allowed to speak, and we did
|
||
not straightway give everybody the right to hold endless discussions. We
|
||
curtly gave everyone to understand that we were masters of the meeting
|
||
and that we would do as it pleased us and that everyone who dared to
|
||
interrupt would be unceremoniously thrown out. We stated clearly our
|
||
refusal to accept responsibility for anyone treated in this manner. If
|
||
time permitted and if it suited us, a discussion would be allowed to
|
||
take place. Our party colleague would now make his speech.... That kind
|
||
of talk was sufficient in itself to astonish the Marxists.
|
||
|
||
Secondly, we had at our disposal a well-trained and organized body of
|
||
men for maintaining order at our meetings. On the other hand the
|
||
bourgeois parties protected their meetings with a body of men better
|
||
classified as ushers who by virtue of their age thought they were
|
||
entitled to-authority and respect. But as Marxism has little or no
|
||
respect for these things, the question of suitable self-protection at
|
||
these bourgeois meetings was, so to speak, in practice non-existent.
|
||
|
||
When our political meetings first started I made it a special point to
|
||
organize a suitable defensive squad--a squad composed chiefly of young
|
||
men. Some of them were comrades who had seen active service with me;
|
||
others were young party members who, right from the start, had been
|
||
trained and brought up to realize that only terror is capable of
|
||
smashing terror--that only courageous and determined people had made a
|
||
success of things in this world and that, finally, we were fighting for
|
||
an idea so lofty that it was worth the last drop of our blood. These
|
||
young men had been brought up to realize that where force replaced
|
||
common sense in the solution of a problem, the best means of defence was
|
||
attack and that the reputation of our hall-guard squads should stamp us
|
||
as a political fighting force and not as a debating society.
|
||
|
||
And it was extraordinary how eagerly these boys of the War generation
|
||
responded to this order. They had indeed good reason for being bitterly
|
||
disappointed and indignant at the miserable milksop methods employed by
|
||
the bourgeoise.
|
||
|
||
Thus it became clear to everyone that the Revolution had only been
|
||
possible thanks to the dastardly methods of a bourgeois government. At
|
||
that time there was certainly no lack of man-power to suppress the
|
||
revolution, but unfortunately there was an entire lack of directive
|
||
brain power. How often did the eyes of my young men light up with
|
||
enthusiasm when I explained to them the vital functions connected with
|
||
their task and assured them time and again that all earthly wisdom is
|
||
useless unless it be supported by a measure of strength, that the gentle
|
||
goddess of Peace can only walk in company with the god of War, and that
|
||
every great act of peace must be protected and assisted by force. In
|
||
this way the idea of military service came to them in a far more
|
||
realistic form--not in the fossilized sense of the souls of decrepit
|
||
officials serving the dead authority of a dead State, but in the living
|
||
realization of the duty of each man to sacrifice his life at all times
|
||
so that his country might live.
|
||
|
||
How those young men did their job!
|
||
|
||
Like a swarm of hornets they tackled disturbers at our meetings,
|
||
regardless of superiority of numbers, however great, indifferent to
|
||
wounds and bloodshed, inspired with the great idea of blazing a trail
|
||
for the sacred mission of our movement.
|
||
|
||
As early as the summer of 1920 the organization of squads of men as hall
|
||
guards for maintaining order at our meetings was gradually assuming
|
||
definite shape. By the spring of 1921 this body of men were sectioned
|
||
off into squads of one hundred, which in turn were sub-divided into
|
||
smaller groups.
|
||
|
||
The urgency for this was apparent, as meanwhile the number of our
|
||
meetings had steadily increased. We still frequently met in the Munich
|
||
Hofbr<EFBFBD>uhaus but more frequently in the large meeting halls throughout
|
||
the city itself. In the autumn and winter of 1920-1921 our meetings in
|
||
the B<>rgerbr<62>u and Munich Kindlbr<62>u had assumed vast proportions and it
|
||
was always the same picture that presented itself; namely, meetings of
|
||
the NSDAP (The German National Socialist Labour Party) were always
|
||
crowded out so that the police were compelled to close and bar the doors
|
||
long before proceedings commenced.
|
||
|
||
The organization of defence guards for keeping order at our meetings
|
||
cleared up a very difficult question. Up till then the movement had
|
||
possessed no party badge and no party flag. The lack of these tokens was
|
||
not only a disadvantage at that time but would prove intolerable in the
|
||
future. The disadvantages were chiefly that members of the party
|
||
possessed no outward broken of membership which linked them together,
|
||
and it was absolutely unthinkable that for the future they should remain
|
||
without some token which would be a symbol of the movement and could be
|
||
set against that of the International.
|
||
|
||
More than once in my youth the psychological importance of such a symbol
|
||
had become clearly evident to me and from a sentimental point of view
|
||
also it was advisable. In Berlin, after the War, I was present at a
|
||
mass-demonstration of Marxists in front of the Royal Palace and in the
|
||
Lustgarten. A sea of red flags, red armlets and red flowers was in
|
||
itself sufficient to give that huge assembly of about 120,000 persons an
|
||
outward appearance of strength. I was now able to feel and understand
|
||
how easily the man in the street succumbs to the hypnotic magic of such
|
||
a grandiose piece of theatrical presentation.
|
||
|
||
The bourgeoisie, which as a party neither possesses or stands for any
|
||
WELTANSCHAUUNG, had therefore not a single banner. Their party was
|
||
composed of 'patriots' who went about in the colours of the REICH. If
|
||
these colours were the symbol of a definite WELTANSCHAUUNG then one
|
||
could understand the rulers of the State regarding this flag as
|
||
expressive of their own WELTANSCHAUUNG, seeing that through their
|
||
efforts the official REICH flag was expressive of their own
|
||
WELTANSCHAUUNG.
|
||
|
||
But in reality the position was otherwise.
|
||
|
||
The REICH was morticed together without the aid of the German
|
||
bourgeoisie and the flag itself was born of the War and therefore merely
|
||
a State flag possessing no importance in the sense of any particular
|
||
ideological mission.
|
||
|
||
Only in one part of the German-speaking territory--in
|
||
German-Austria--was there anything like a bourgeois party flag in
|
||
evidence. Here a section of the national bourgeoisie selected the 1848
|
||
colours (black, red and gold) as their party flag and therewith created
|
||
a symbol which, though of no importance from a weltanschauliche
|
||
viewpoint, had, nevertheless, a revolutionary character from a national
|
||
point of view. The most bitter opponents of this flag at that time, and
|
||
this should not be forgotten to-day, were the Social Democrats and the
|
||
Christian Socialists or clericals. They, in particular, were the ones
|
||
who degraded and besmirched these colours in the same way as in 1918
|
||
they dragged black, white and red into the gutter. Of course, the black,
|
||
red and gold of the German parties in the old Austria were the colours
|
||
of the year 1848: that is to say, of a period likely to be regarded as
|
||
somewhat visionary, but it was a period that had honest German souls as
|
||
its representatives, although the Jews were lurking unseen as
|
||
wire-pullers in the background. It was high treason and the shameful
|
||
enslavement of the German territory that first of all made these colours
|
||
so attractive to the Marxists of the Centre Party; so much so that
|
||
to-day they revere them as their most cherished possession and use them
|
||
as their own banners for the protection of the flag they once foully
|
||
besmirched.
|
||
|
||
It is a fact, therefore, that, up till 1920, in opposition to the
|
||
Marxists there was no flag that would have stood for a consolidated
|
||
resistance to them. For even if the better political elements of the
|
||
German bourgeoisie were loath to accept the suddenly discovered black,
|
||
red and gold colours as their symbol after the year 1918, they
|
||
nevertheless were incapable of counteracting this with a future
|
||
programme of their own that would correspond to the new trend of
|
||
affairs. At the most, they had a reconstruction of the old REICH in
|
||
mind.
|
||
|
||
And it is to this way of thinking that the black, white and red colours
|
||
of the old REICH are indebted for their resurrection as the flag of our
|
||
so-called national bourgeois parties.
|
||
|
||
It was obvious that the symbol of a r<>gime which had been overthrown by
|
||
the Marxists under inglorious circumstances was not now worthy to serve
|
||
as a banner under which the same Marxism was to be crushed in its turn.
|
||
However much any decent German may love and revere those old colours,
|
||
glorious when placed side by side in their youthful freshness, when he
|
||
had fought under them and seen the sacrifice of so many lives, that flag
|
||
had little value for the struggle of the future.
|
||
|
||
In our Movement I have always adopted the standpoint that it was a
|
||
really lucky thing for the German nation that it had lost its old flag
|
||
(Note 18). This standpoint of mine was in strong contrast to that of the
|
||
bourgeois politicians. It may be immaterial to us what the Republic does
|
||
under its flag. But let us be deeply grateful to fate for having so
|
||
graciously spared the most glorious war flag for all time from becoming
|
||
an ignominious rag. The REICH of to-day, which sells itself and its
|
||
people, must never be allowed to adopt the honourable and heroic black,
|
||
white and red colours.
|
||
|
||
[Note 18. The flag of the German Empire, founded in 1871, was
|
||
Black-White-Red. This was discarded in 1918 and Black-Red-Gold was chosen
|
||
as the flag of the German Republic founded at Weimar in 1919. The flag
|
||
designed by Hitler--red with a white disc in the centre, bearing the
|
||
black swastika--is now the national flag.]
|
||
|
||
As long as the November outrage endures, that outrage may continue to
|
||
bear its own external sign and not steal that of an honourable past. Our
|
||
bourgeois politicians should awaken their consciences to the fact that
|
||
whoever desires this State to have the black, white and red colours is
|
||
pilfering from the past. The old flag was suitable only for the old
|
||
REICH and, thank Heaven, the Republic chose the colours best suited to
|
||
itself.
|
||
|
||
This was also the reason why we National Socialists recognized that
|
||
hoisting the old colours would be no symbol of our special aims; for we
|
||
had no wish to resurrect from the dead the old REICH which had been
|
||
ruined through its own blunders, but to build up a new State.
|
||
|
||
The Movement which is fighting Marxism to-day along these lines must
|
||
display on its banner the symbol of the new State.
|
||
|
||
The question of the new flag, that is to say the form and appearance it
|
||
must take, kept us very busy in those days. Suggestions poured in from
|
||
all quarters, which although well meant were more or less impossible in
|
||
practice. The new flag had not only to become a symbol expressing our
|
||
own struggle but on the other hand it was necessary that it should prove
|
||
effective as a large poster. All those who busy themselves with the
|
||
tastes of the public will recognize and appreciate the great importance
|
||
of these apparently petty matters. In hundreds of thousands of cases a
|
||
really striking emblem may be the first cause of awakening interest in a
|
||
movement.
|
||
|
||
For this reason we declined all suggestions from various quarters for
|
||
identifying our movement by means of a white flag with the old State or
|
||
rather with those decrepit parties whose sole political objective is the
|
||
restoration of past conditions. And, apart from this, white is not a
|
||
colour capable of attracting and focusing public attention. It is a
|
||
colour suitable only for young women's associations and not for a
|
||
movement that stands for reform in a revolutionary period.
|
||
|
||
Black was also suggested--certainly well-suited to the times, but
|
||
embodying no significance to empress the will behind our movement. And,
|
||
finally, black is incapable of attracting attention.
|
||
|
||
White and blue was discarded, despite its admirable aesthetic appeal--as
|
||
being the colours of an individual German Federal State--a State that,
|
||
unfortunately, through its political attitude of particularist
|
||
narrow-mindedness did not enjoy a good reputation. And, generally
|
||
speaking, with these colours it would have been difficult to attract
|
||
attention to our movement. The same applies to black and white.
|
||
|
||
Black, red and gold did not enter the question at all.
|
||
|
||
And this also applies to black, white and red for reasons already
|
||
stated. At least, not in the form hitherto in use. But the effectiveness
|
||
of these three colours is far superior to all the others and they are
|
||
certainly the most strikingly harmonious combination to be found.
|
||
|
||
I myself was always for keeping the old colours, not only because I, as
|
||
a soldier, regarded them as my most sacred possession, but because in
|
||
their aesthetic effect, they conformed more than anything else to my
|
||
personal taste. Accordingly I had to discard all the innumerable
|
||
suggestions and designs which had been proposed for the new movement,
|
||
among which were many that had incorporated the swastika into the old
|
||
colours. I, as leader, was unwilling to make public my own design, as it
|
||
was possible that someone else could come forward with a design just as
|
||
good, if not better, than my own. As a matter of fact, a dental surgeon
|
||
from Starnberg submitted a good design very similar to mine, with only
|
||
one mistake, in that his swastika with curved corners was set upon a
|
||
white background.
|
||
|
||
After innumerable trials I decided upon a final form--a flag of red
|
||
material with a white disc bearing in its centre a black swastika. After
|
||
many trials I obtained the correct proportions between the dimensions of
|
||
the flag and of the white central disc, as well as that of the swastika.
|
||
And this is how it has remained ever since.
|
||
|
||
At the same time we immediately ordered the corresponding armlets for
|
||
our squad of men who kept order at meetings, armlets of red material, a
|
||
central white disc with the black swastika upon it. Herr F<>ss, a Munich
|
||
goldsmith, supplied the first practical and permanent design.
|
||
|
||
The new flag appeared in public in the midsummer of 1920. It suited our
|
||
movement admirably, both being new and young. Not a soul had seen this
|
||
flag before; its effect at that time was something akin to that of a
|
||
blazing torch. We ourselves experienced almost a boyish delight when one
|
||
of the ladies of the party who had been entrusted with the making of the
|
||
flag finally handed it over to us. And a few months later those of us in
|
||
Munich were in possession of six of these flags. The steadily increasing
|
||
strength of our hall guards was a main factor in popularizing the
|
||
symbol.
|
||
|
||
And indeed a symbol it proved to be.
|
||
|
||
Not only because it incorporated those revered colours expressive of our
|
||
homage to the glorious past and which once brought so much honour to the
|
||
German nation, but this symbol was also an eloquent expression of the
|
||
will behind the movement. We National Socialists regarded our flag as
|
||
being the embodiment of our party programme. The red expressed the
|
||
social thought underlying the movement. White the national thought. And
|
||
the swastika signified the mission allotted to us--the struggle for the
|
||
victory of Aryan mankind and at the same time the triumph of the ideal
|
||
of creative work which is in itself and always will be anti-Semitic.
|
||
|
||
Two years later, when our squad of hall guards had long since grown into
|
||
storm detachments, it seemed necessary to give this defensive
|
||
organization of a young WELTANSCHAUUNG a particular symbol of victory,
|
||
namely a Standard. I also designed this and entrusted the execution of
|
||
it to an old party comrade, Herr Gahr, who was a goldsmith. Ever since
|
||
that time this Standard has been the distinctive token of the National
|
||
Socialist struggle.
|
||
|
||
The increasing interest taken in our meetings, particularly during 1920,
|
||
compelled us at times to hold two meetings a week. Crowds gathered round
|
||
our posters; the large meeting halls in the town were always filled and
|
||
tens of thousands of people, who had been led astray by the teachings of
|
||
Marxism, found their way to us and assisted in the work of fighting for
|
||
the liberation of the REICH. The public in Munich had got to know us. We
|
||
were being spoken about. The words 'National Socialist' had become
|
||
common property to many and signified for them a definite party
|
||
programme. Our circle of supporters and even of members was constantly
|
||
increasing, so that in the winter of 1920-21 we were able to appear as a
|
||
strong party in Munich.
|
||
|
||
At that time there was no party in Munich with the exception of the
|
||
Marxist parties--certainly no nationalist party--which was able to hold
|
||
such mass demonstrations as ours. The Munich Kindl Hall, which held
|
||
5,000 people, was more than once overcrowded and up till then there was
|
||
only one other hall, the Krone Circus Hall, into which we had not
|
||
ventured.
|
||
|
||
At the end of January 1921 there was again great cause for anxiety in
|
||
Germany. The Paris Agreement, by which Germany pledged herself to pay
|
||
the crazy sum of a hundred milliards of gold marks, was to be confirmed
|
||
by the London Ultimatum.
|
||
|
||
Thereupon an old-established Munich working committee, representative of
|
||
so-called V<>LKISCH groups, deemed it advisable to call for a public
|
||
meeting of protest. I became nervous and restless when I saw that a lot
|
||
of time was being wasted and nothing undertaken. At first a meeting was
|
||
suggested in the K<>NIG PLATZ; on second thoughts this was turned down,
|
||
as someone feared the proceedings might be wrecked by Red elements.
|
||
Another suggestion was a demonstration in front of the Feldherrn Hall,
|
||
but this also came to nothing. Finally a combined meeting in the Munich
|
||
Kindl Hall was suggested. Meanwhile, day after day had gone by; the big
|
||
parties had entirely ignored the terrible event, and the working
|
||
committee could not decide on a definite date for holding the
|
||
demonstration.
|
||
|
||
On Tuesday, February 1st, I put forward an urgent demand for a final
|
||
decision. I was put off until Wednesday. On that day I demanded to be
|
||
told clearly if and when the meeting was to take place. The reply was
|
||
again uncertain and evasive, it being stated that it was 'intended' to
|
||
arrange a demonstration that day week.
|
||
|
||
At that I lost all patience and decided to conduct a demonstration of
|
||
protest on my own. At noon on Wednesday I dictated in ten minutes the
|
||
text of the poster and at the same time hired the Krone Circus Hall for
|
||
the next day, February 3rd.
|
||
|
||
In those days this was a tremendous venture. Not only because of the
|
||
uncertainty of filling that vast hall, but also because of the risk of
|
||
the meeting being wrecked.
|
||
|
||
Numerically our squad of hall guards was not strong enough for this vast
|
||
hall. I was also uncertain about what to do in case the meeting was
|
||
broken up--a huge circus building being a different proposition from an
|
||
ordinary meeting hall. But events showed that my fears were misplaced,
|
||
the opposite being the case. In that vast building a squad of wreckers
|
||
could be tackled and subdued more easily than in a cramped hall.
|
||
|
||
One thing was certain: A failure would throw us back for a long time to
|
||
come. If one meeting was wrecked our prestige would be seriously injured
|
||
and our opponents would be encouraged to repeat their success. That
|
||
would lead to sabotage of our work in connection with further meetings
|
||
and months of difficult struggle would be necessary to overcome this.
|
||
|
||
We had only one day in which to post our bills, Thursday. Unfortunately
|
||
it rained on the morning of that day and there was reason to fear that
|
||
many people would prefer to remain at home rather than hurry to a
|
||
meeting through rain and snow, especially when there was likely to be
|
||
violence and bloodshed.
|
||
|
||
And indeed on that Thursday morning I was suddenly struck with fear that
|
||
the hall might never be filled to capacity, which would have made me
|
||
ridiculous in the eyes of the working committee. I therefore immediately
|
||
dictated various leaflets, had them printed and distributed in the
|
||
afternoon. Of course they contained an invitation to attend the meeting.
|
||
|
||
Two lorries which I hired were draped as much as possible in red, each
|
||
had our new flag hoisted on it and was then filled with fifteen or
|
||
twenty members of our party. Orders were given the members to canvas the
|
||
streets thoroughly, distribute leaflets and conduct propaganda for the
|
||
mass meeting to be held that evening. It was the first time that lorries
|
||
had driven through the streets bearing flags and not manned by Marxists.
|
||
The public stared open-mouthed at these red-draped cars, and in the
|
||
outlying districts clenched fists were angrily raised at this new
|
||
evidence of 'provocation of the proletariat'. Were not the Marxists the
|
||
only ones entitled to hold meetings and drive about in motor lorries?
|
||
|
||
At seven o'clock in the evening only a few had gathered in the circus
|
||
hall. I was being kept informed by telephone every ten minutes and was
|
||
becoming uneasy. Usually at seven or a quarter past our meeting halls
|
||
were already half filled; sometimes even packed. But I soon found out
|
||
the reason why I was uneasy. I had entirely forgotten to take into
|
||
account the huge dimensions of this new meeting place. A thousand people
|
||
in the Hofbr<62>uhaus was quite an impressive sight, but the same number in
|
||
the Circus building was swallowed up in its dimensions and was hardly
|
||
noticeable. Shortly afterwards I received more hopeful reports and at a
|
||
quarter to eight I was informed that the hall was three-quarters filled,
|
||
with huge crowds still lined up at the pay boxes. I then left for the
|
||
meeting.
|
||
|
||
I arrived at the Circus building at two minutes past eight. There was
|
||
still a crowd of people outside, partly inquisitive people and many
|
||
opponents who preferred to wait outside for developments.
|
||
|
||
When I entered the great hall I felt the same joy I had felt a year
|
||
previously at the first meeting in the Munich Hofbr<62>u Banquet Hall; but
|
||
it was not until I had forced my way through the solid wall of people
|
||
and reached the platform that I perceived the full measure of our
|
||
success. The hall was before me, like a huge shell, packed with
|
||
thousands and thousands of people. Even the arena was densely crowded.
|
||
More than 5,600 tickets had been sold and, allowing for the unemployed,
|
||
poor students and our own detachments of men for keeping order, a crowd
|
||
of about 6,500 must have been present.
|
||
|
||
My theme was 'Future or Downfall' and I was filled with joy at the
|
||
conviction that the future was represented by the crowds that I was
|
||
addressing.
|
||
|
||
I began, and spoke for about two and a half hours. I had the feeling
|
||
after the first half-hour that the meeting was going to be a big
|
||
success. Contact had been at once established with all those thousands
|
||
of individuals. After the first hour the speech was already being
|
||
received by spontaneous outbreaks of applause, but after the second hour
|
||
this died down to a solemn stillness which I was to experience so often
|
||
later on in this same hall, and which will for ever be remembered by all
|
||
those present. Nothing broke this impressive silence and only when the
|
||
last word had been spoken did the meeting give vent to its feelings by
|
||
singing the national anthem.
|
||
|
||
I watched the scene during the next twenty minutes, as the vast hall
|
||
slowly emptied itself, and only then did I leave the platform, a happy
|
||
man, and made my way home.
|
||
|
||
Photographs were taken of this first meeting in the Krone Circus Hall in
|
||
Munich. They are more eloquent than words to demonstrate the success of
|
||
this demonstration. The bourgeois papers reproduced photographs and
|
||
reported the meeting as having been merely 'nationalist' in character;
|
||
in their usual modest fashion they omitted all mention of its promoters.
|
||
|
||
Thus for the first time we had developed far beyond the dimensions of an
|
||
ordinary party. We could no longer be ignored. And to dispel all doubt
|
||
that the meeting was merely an isolated success, I immediately arranged
|
||
for another at the Circus Hall in the following week, and again we had
|
||
the same success. Once more the vast hall was overflowing with people;
|
||
so much so that I decided to hold a third meeting during the following
|
||
week, which also proved a similar success.
|
||
|
||
After these initial successes early in 1921 I increased our activity in
|
||
Munich still further. I not only held meetings once a week, but during
|
||
some weeks even two were regularly held and very often during midsummer
|
||
and autumn this increased to three. We met regularly at the Circus Hall
|
||
and it gave us great satisfaction to see that every meeting brought us
|
||
the same measure of success.
|
||
|
||
The result was shown in an ever-increasing number of supporters and
|
||
members into our party.
|
||
|
||
Naturally, such success did not allow our opponents to sleep soundly. At
|
||
first their tactics fluctuated between the use of terror and silence in
|
||
our regard. Then they recognized that neither terror nor silence could
|
||
hinder the progress of our movement. So they had recourse to a supreme
|
||
act of terror which was intended to put a definite end to our activities
|
||
in the holding of meetings.
|
||
|
||
As a pretext for action along this line they availed themselves of a
|
||
very mysterious attack on one of the Landtag deputies, named Erhard
|
||
Auer. It was declared that someone had fired several shots at this man
|
||
one evening. This meant that he was not shot but that an attempt had
|
||
been made to shoot him. A fabulous presence of mind and heroic courage
|
||
on the part of Social Democratic leaders not only prevented the
|
||
sacrilegious intention from taking effect but also put the crazy
|
||
would-be assassins to flight, like the cowards that they were. They were
|
||
so quick and fled so far that subsequently the police could not find
|
||
even the slightest traces of them. This mysterious episode was used by
|
||
the organ of the Social Democratic Party to arouse public feeling
|
||
against the movement, and while doing this it delivered its old
|
||
rigmarole about the tactics that were to be employed the next time.
|
||
Their purpose was to see to it that our movement should not grow but
|
||
should be immediately hewn down root and branch by the hefty arm of the
|
||
proletariat.
|
||
|
||
A few days later the real attack came. It was decided finally to
|
||
interrupt one of our meetings which was billed to take place in the
|
||
Munich Hofbr<62>uhaus, and at which I myself was to speak.
|
||
|
||
On November 4th, 1921, in the evening between six and seven o'clock I
|
||
received the first precise news that the meeting would positively be
|
||
broken up and that to carry out this action our adversaries had decided
|
||
to send to the meeting great masses of workmen employed in certain 'Red'
|
||
factories.
|
||
|
||
It was due to an unfortunate accident that we did not receive this news
|
||
sooner. On that day we had given up our old business office in the
|
||
Sternecker Gasse in Munich and moved into other quarters; or rather we
|
||
had given up the old offices and our new quarters were not yet in
|
||
functioning order. The telephone arrangements had been cut off by the
|
||
former tenants and had not yet been reinstalled. Hence it happened that
|
||
several attempts made that day to inform us by telephone of the break-up
|
||
which had been planned for the evening did not reach us.
|
||
|
||
Consequently our order troops were not present in strong force at that
|
||
meeting. There was only one squad present, which did not consist of the
|
||
usual one hundred men, but only of about forty-six. And our telephone
|
||
connections were not yet sufficiently organized to be able to give the
|
||
alarm in the course of an hour or so, so that a sufficiently powerful
|
||
number of order troops to deal with the situation could be called. It
|
||
must also be added that on several previous occasions we had been
|
||
forewarned, but nothing special happened. The old proverb, 'Revolutions
|
||
which were announced have scarcely ever come off', had hitherto been
|
||
proved true in our regard.
|
||
|
||
Possibly for this reason also sufficiently strong precautions had not
|
||
been taken on that day to cope with the brutal determination of our
|
||
opponents to break up our meeting.
|
||
|
||
Finally, we did not believe that the Hofbr<62>uhaus in Munich was suitable
|
||
for the interruptive tactics of our adversaries. We had feared such a
|
||
thing far more in the bigger halls, especially that of the Krone Circus.
|
||
But on this point we learned a very serviceable lesson that evening.
|
||
Later, we studied this whole question according to a scientific system
|
||
and arrived at results, both interesting and incredible, and which
|
||
subsequently were an essential factor in the direction of our
|
||
organization and in the tactics of our Storm Troops.
|
||
|
||
When I arrived in the entrance halt of the Hofbr<62>uhaus at 7.45 that
|
||
evening I realizcd that there could be no doubt as to what the 'Reds'
|
||
intended. The hall was filled, and for that reason the police had barred
|
||
the entrances. Our adversaries, who had arrived very early, were in the
|
||
hall, and our followers were for the most part outside. The small
|
||
bodyguard awaited me at the entrance. I had the doors leading to the
|
||
principal hall closed and then asked the bodyguard of forty-five or
|
||
forty-six men to come forward. I made it clear to the boys that perhaps
|
||
on that evening for the first time they would have to show their
|
||
unbending and unbreakable loyalty to the movement and that not one of us
|
||
should leave the hall unless carried out dead. I added that I would
|
||
remain in the hall and that I did not believe that one of them would
|
||
abandon me, and that if I saw any one of them act the coward I myself
|
||
would personally tear off his armlet and his badge. I demanded of them
|
||
that they should come forward if the slightest attempt to sabotage the
|
||
meeting were made and that they must remember that the best defence is
|
||
always attack.
|
||
|
||
I was greeted with a triple 'HEIL' which sounded more hoarse and violent
|
||
than usual.
|
||
|
||
Then I advanced through the hall and could take in the situation with my
|
||
own eyes. Our opponents sat closely huddled together and tried to pierce
|
||
me through with their looks. Innumerable faces glowing with hatred and
|
||
rage were fixed on me, while others with sneering grimaces shouted at me
|
||
together. Now they would 'Finish with us. We must look out for our
|
||
entrails. To-day they would smash in our faces once and for all.' And
|
||
there were other expressions of an equally elegant character. They knew
|
||
that they were there in superior numbers and they acted accordingly.
|
||
|
||
Yet we were able to open the meeting; and I began to speak. In the Hall
|
||
of the Hofbr<62>uhaus I stood always at the side, away from the entry and
|
||
on top of a beer table. Therefore I was always right in the midst of the
|
||
audience. Perhaps this circumstance was responsible for creating a
|
||
certain feeling and a sense of agreement which I never found elsewhere.
|
||
|
||
Before me, and especially towards my left, there were only opponents,
|
||
seated or standing. They were mostly robust youths and men from the
|
||
Maffei Factory, from Kustermann's, and from the factories on the Isar,
|
||
etc. Along the right-hand wall of the hall they were thickly massed
|
||
quite close to my table. They now began to order litre mugs of beer, one
|
||
after the other, and to throw the empty mugs under the table. In this
|
||
way whole batteries were collected. I should have been surprised had
|
||
this meeting ended peacefully.
|
||
|
||
In spite of all the interruptions, I was able to speak for about an hour
|
||
and a half and I felt as if I were master of the situation. Even the
|
||
ringleaders of the disturbers appeared to be convinced of this; for they
|
||
steadily became more uneasy, often left the hall, returned and spoke to
|
||
their men in an obviously nervous way.
|
||
|
||
A small psychological error which I committed in replying to an
|
||
interruption, and the mistake of which I myself was conscious the moment
|
||
the words had left my mouth, gave the sign for the outbreak.
|
||
|
||
There were a few furious outbursts and all in a moment a man jumped on a
|
||
seat and shouted "Liberty". At that signal the champions of liberty
|
||
began their work.
|
||
|
||
In a few moments the hall was filled with a yelling and shrieking mob.
|
||
Numerous beer-mugs flew like howitzers above their heads. Amid this
|
||
uproar one heard the crash of chair legs, the crashing of mugs, groans
|
||
and yells and screams.
|
||
|
||
It was a mad spectacle. I stood where I was and could observe my boys
|
||
doing their duty, every one of them.
|
||
|
||
There I had the chance of seeing what a bourgeois meeting could be.
|
||
|
||
The dance had hardly begun when my Storm Troops, as they were called
|
||
from that day onwards, launched their attack. Like wolves they threw
|
||
themselves on the enemy again and again in parties of eight or ten and
|
||
began steadily to thrash them out of the hall. After five minutes I
|
||
could see hardly one of them that was not streaming with blood. Then I
|
||
realized what kind of men many of them were, above all my brave Maurice
|
||
Hess, who is my private secretary to-day, and many others who, even
|
||
though seriously wounded, attacked again and again as long as they could
|
||
stand on their feet. Twenty minutes long the pandemonium continued. Then
|
||
the opponents, who had numbered seven or eight hundred, had been driven
|
||
from the hall or hurled out headlong by my men, who had not numbered
|
||
fifty. Only in the left corner a big crowd still stood out against our
|
||
men and put up a bitter fight. Then two pistol shots rang out from the
|
||
entrance to the hall in the direction of the platform and now a wild din
|
||
of shooting broke out from all sides. One's heart almost rejoiced at
|
||
this spectacle which recalled memories of the War.
|
||
|
||
At that moment it was not possible to identify the person who had fired
|
||
the shots. But at any rate I could see that my boys renewed the attack
|
||
with increased fury until finally the last disturbers were overcome and
|
||
flung out of the hall.
|
||
|
||
About twenty-five minutes had passed since it all began. The hall looked
|
||
as if a bomb had exploded there. Many of my comrades had to be bandaged
|
||
and others taken away. But we remained masters of the situation. Hermann
|
||
Essen, who was chairman of the meeting, announced: "The meeting will
|
||
continue. The speaker shall proceed." So I went on with my speech.
|
||
|
||
When we ourselves declared the meeting at an end an excited police
|
||
officer rushed in, waved his hands and declared: "The meeting is
|
||
dissolved."
|
||
|
||
Without wishing to do so I had to laugh at this example of the law's
|
||
delay. It was the authentic constabulary officiosiousness. The smaller
|
||
they are the greater they must always appear.
|
||
|
||
That evening we learned a real lesson. And our adversaries never forgot
|
||
the lesson they had received.
|
||
|
||
Up to the autumn of 1923 the M<>nchener post did not again mention the
|
||
clenched fists of the Proletariat.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
CHAPTER VIII
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
THE STRONG IS STRONGEST WHEN ALONE
|
||
|
||
|
||
In the preceding chapter I mentioned the existence of a co-operative
|
||
union between the German patriotic associations. Here I shall deal
|
||
briefly with this question.
|
||
|
||
In speaking of a co-operative union we generally mean a group of
|
||
associations which, for the purpose of facilitating their work,
|
||
establish mutual relations for collaborating with one another along
|
||
certain lines, appointing a common directorate with varying powers and
|
||
thenceforth carrying out a common line of action. The average citizen is
|
||
pleased and reassured when he hears that these associations, by
|
||
establishing a co-operative union among one another, have at long last
|
||
discovered a common platform on which they can stand united and have
|
||
eliminated all grounds of mutual difference. Therewith a general
|
||
conviction arises, to the effect that such a union is an immense gain in
|
||
strength and that small groups which were weak as long as they stood
|
||
alone have now suddenly become strong. Yet this conviction is for the
|
||
most part a mistaken one.
|
||
|
||
It will be interesting and, in my opinion, important for the better
|
||
understanding of this question if we try to get a clear notion of how it
|
||
comes about that these associations, unions, etc., are established, when
|
||
all of them declare that they have the same ends in view. In itself it
|
||
would be logical to expect that one aim should be fought for by a single
|
||
association and it would be more reasonable if there were not a number
|
||
of associations fighting for the same aim. In the beginning there was
|
||
undoubtedly only one association which had this one fixed aim in view.
|
||
One man proclaimed a truth somewhere and, calling for the solution of a
|
||
definite question, fixed his aim and founded a movement for the purpose
|
||
of carrying his views into effect.
|
||
|
||
That is how an association or a party is founded, the scope of whose
|
||
programme is either the abolition of existing evils or the positive
|
||
establishment of a certain order of things in the future.
|
||
|
||
Once such a movement has come into existence it may lay practical claim
|
||
to certain priority rights. The natural course of things would now be
|
||
that all those who wish to fight for the same objective as this movement
|
||
is striving for should identify themselves with it and thus increase its
|
||
strength, so that the common purpose in view may be all the better
|
||
served. Especially men of superior intelligence must feel, one and all,
|
||
that by joining the movement they are establishing precisely those
|
||
conditions which are necessary for practical success in the common
|
||
struggle. Accordingly it is reasonable and, in a certain sense,
|
||
honest--which honesty, as I shall show later, is an element of very
|
||
great importance--that only one movement should be founded for the
|
||
purpose of attaining the one aim.
|
||
|
||
The fact that this does not happen must be attributed to two causes. The
|
||
first may almost be described as tragic. The second is a matter for
|
||
pity, because it has its foundation in the weaknesses of human nature.
|
||
But, on going to the bottom of things, I see in both causes only facts
|
||
which give still another ground for strengthening our will, our energy
|
||
and intensity of purpose; so that finally, through the higher
|
||
development of the human faculties, the solution of the problem in
|
||
question may be rendered possible.
|
||
|
||
The tragic reason why it so often happens that the pursuit of one
|
||
definite task is not left to one association alone is as follows:
|
||
Generally speaking, every action carried out on the grand style in this
|
||
world is the expression of a desire that has already existed for a long
|
||
time in millions of human hearts, a longing which may have been
|
||
nourished in silence. Yes, it may happen that throughout centuries men
|
||
may have been yearning for the solution of a definite problem, because
|
||
they have been suffering under an unendurable order of affairs, without
|
||
seeing on the far horizon the coming fulfilment of the universal
|
||
longing. Nations which are no longer capable of finding an heroic
|
||
deliverance from such a sorrowful fate may be looked upon as effete.
|
||
But, on the other hand, nothing gives better proof of the vital forces
|
||
of a people and the consequent guarantee of its right to exist than that
|
||
one day, through a happy decree of Destiny, a man arises who is capable
|
||
of liberating his people from some great oppression, or of wiping out
|
||
some bitter distress, or of calming the national soul which had been
|
||
tormented through its sense of insecurity, and thus fulfilling what had
|
||
long been the universal yearning of the people.
|
||
|
||
An essential characteristic of what are called the great questions of
|
||
the time is that thousands undertake the task of solving them and that
|
||
many feel themselves called to this task: yea, even that Destiny itself
|
||
has proposed many for the choice, so that through the free play of
|
||
forces the stronger and bolder shall finally be victorious and to him
|
||
shall be entrusted the task of solving the problem.
|
||
|
||
Thus it may happen that for centuries many are discontented with the
|
||
form in which their religious life expresses itself and yearn for a
|
||
renovation of it; and so it may happen that through this impulse of the
|
||
soul some dozens of men may arise who believe that, by virtue of their
|
||
understanding and their knowledge, they are called to solve the
|
||
religious difficulties of the time and accordingly present themselves as
|
||
the prophets of a new teaching or at least as declared adversaries of
|
||
the standing beliefs.
|
||
|
||
Here also it is certain that the natural law will take its course,
|
||
inasmuch as the strongest will be destined to fulfil the great mission.
|
||
But usually the others are slow to acknowledge that only one man is
|
||
called. On the contrary, they all believe that they have an equal right
|
||
to engage in the solution of the diffculties in question and that they
|
||
are equally called to that task. Their contemporary world is generally
|
||
quite unable to decide which of all these possesses the highest gifts
|
||
and accordingly merits the support of all.
|
||
|
||
So in the course of centuries, or indeed often within the same epoch,
|
||
different men establish different movements to struggle towards the same
|
||
end. At least the end is declared by the founders of the movements to be
|
||
the same, or may be looked upon as such by the masses of the people. The
|
||
populace nourishes vague desires and has only general opinions, without
|
||
having any precise notion of their own ideals and desires or of the
|
||
question whether and how it is impossible for these ideals and desires
|
||
to be fulfilled.
|
||
|
||
The tragedy lies in the fact that many men struggle to reach the same
|
||
objective by different roads, each one genuinely believing in his own
|
||
mission and holding himself in duty bound to follow his own road without
|
||
any regard for the others.
|
||
|
||
These movements, parties, religious groups, etc., originate entirely
|
||
independently of one another out of the general urge of the time, and
|
||
all with a view to working towards the same goal. It may seem a tragic
|
||
thing, at least at first sight, that this should be so, because people
|
||
are too often inclined to think that forces which are dispersed in
|
||
different directions would attain their ends far more quickly and more
|
||
surely if they were united in one common effort. But that is not so. For
|
||
Nature herself decides according to the rules of her inexorable logic.
|
||
She leaves these diverse groups to compete with one another and dispute
|
||
the palm of victory and thus she chooses the clearest, shortest and
|
||
surest way along which she leads the movement to its final goal.
|
||
|
||
How could one decide from outside which is the best way, if the forces
|
||
at hand were not allowed free play, if the final decision were to rest
|
||
with the doctrinaire judgment of men who are so infatuated with their
|
||
own superior knowledge that their minds are not open to accept the
|
||
indisputable proof presented by manifest success, which in the last
|
||
analysis always gives the final confirmation of the justice of a course
|
||
of action.
|
||
|
||
Hence, though diverse groups march along different routes towards the
|
||
same objective, as soon as they come to know that analogous efforts are
|
||
being made around them, they will have to study all the more carefully
|
||
whether they have chosen the best way and whether a shorter way may not
|
||
be found and how their efforts can best be employed to reach the
|
||
objective more quickly.
|
||
|
||
Through this rivalry each individual protagonist develops his faculties
|
||
to a still higher pitch of perfection and the human race has frequently
|
||
owed its progress to the lessons learned from the misfortunes of former
|
||
attempts which have come to grief. Therefore we may conclude that we
|
||
come to know the better ways of reaching final results through a state
|
||
of things which at first sight appeared tragic; namely, the initial
|
||
dispersion of individual efforts, wherein each group was unconsciously
|
||
responsible for such dispersion.
|
||
|
||
In studying the lessons of history with a view to finding a way for the
|
||
solution of the German problem, the prevailing opinion at one time was
|
||
that there were two possible paths along which that problem might be
|
||
solved and that these two paths should have united from the very
|
||
beginning. The chief representatives and champions of these two paths
|
||
were Austria and Prussia respectively, Habsburg and Hohenzollern. All
|
||
the rest, according to this prevalent opinion, ought to have entrusted
|
||
their united forces to the one or the other party. But at that time the
|
||
path of the most prominent representative, the Habsburg, would have been
|
||
taken, though the Austrian policy would never have led to the foundation
|
||
of a united German REICH.
|
||
|
||
Finally, a strong and united German REICH arose out of that which many
|
||
millions of Germans deplored in their hearts as the last and most
|
||
terrible manifestation of our fratricidal strife. The truth is that the
|
||
German Imperial Crown was retrieved on the battle field of K<>niggr<67>tz
|
||
and not in the fights that were waged before Paris, as was commonly
|
||
asserted afterwards.
|
||
|
||
Thus the foundation of the German REICH was not the consequence of any
|
||
common will working along common lines, but it was much more the outcome
|
||
of a deliberate struggle for hegemony, though the protagonists were
|
||
often hardly conscious of this. And from this struggle Prussia finally
|
||
came out victorious. Anybody who is not so blinded by partisan politics
|
||
as to deny this truth will have to agree that the so-called wisdom of
|
||
men would never have come to the same wise decision as the wisdom of
|
||
Life itself, that is to say, the free play of forces, finally brought to
|
||
realization. For in the German lands of two hundred years before who
|
||
would seriously have believed that Hohenzollern Prussia, and not
|
||
Habsburg, would become the germ cell, the founder and the tutor of the
|
||
new REICH? And, on the other hand, who would deny to-day that Destiny
|
||
thus acted wiser than human wisdom. Who could now imagine a German REICH
|
||
based on the foundations of an effete and degenerate dynasty?
|
||
|
||
No. The general evolution of things, even though it took a century of
|
||
struggle, placed the best in the position that it had merited.
|
||
|
||
And that will always be so. Therefore it is not to be regretted if
|
||
different men set out to attain the same objective. In this way the
|
||
strongest and swiftest becomes recognized and turns out to be the
|
||
victor.
|
||
|
||
Now there is a second cause for the fact that often in the lives of
|
||
nations several movements which show the same characteristics strive
|
||
along different ways to reach what appears to be the same goal. This
|
||
second cause is not at all tragic, but just something that rightly calls
|
||
forth pity. It arises from a sad mixture of envy, jealousy, ambition,
|
||
and the itch for taking what belongs to others. Unfortunately these
|
||
failings are often found united in single specimens of the human
|
||
species.
|
||
|
||
The moment a man arises who profoundly understands the distress of his
|
||
people and, having diagnosed the evil with perfect accuracy, takes
|
||
measures to cure it; the moment he fixes his aim and chooses the means
|
||
to reach it--then paltry and pettifogging people become all attention
|
||
and eagerly follow the doings of this man who has thus come before the
|
||
public gaze. Just like sparrows who are apparently indifferent, but in
|
||
reality are firmly intent on the movements of the fortunate companion
|
||
with the morsel of bread so that they may snatch it from him if he
|
||
should momentarily relax his hold on it, so it is also with the human
|
||
species. All that is needed is that one man should strike out on a new
|
||
road and then a crowd of poltroons will prick up their ears and begin to
|
||
sniff for whatever little booty may possibly lie at the end of that
|
||
road. The moment they think they have discovered where the booty is to
|
||
be gathered they hurry to find another way which may prove to be quicker
|
||
in reaching that goal.
|
||
|
||
As soon as a new movement is founded and has formulated a definite
|
||
programme, people of that kind come forward and proclaim that they are
|
||
fighting for the same cause. This does not imply that they are ready
|
||
honestly to join the ranks of such a movement and thus recognize its
|
||
right of priority. It implies rather that they intend to steal the
|
||
programme and found a new party on it. In doing this they are shameless
|
||
enough to assure the unthinking public that for a long time they had
|
||
intended to take the same line of action as the other has now taken, and
|
||
frequently they succeed in thus placing themselves in a favourable
|
||
light, instead of arousing the general disapprobation which they justly
|
||
deserve. For it is a piece of gross impudence to take what has already
|
||
been inscribed on another's flag and display it on one's own, to steal
|
||
the programme of another, and then to form a separate group as if all
|
||
had been created by the new founder of this group. The impudence of such
|
||
conduct is particularly demonstrated when the individuals who first
|
||
caused dispersion and disruption by their new foundation are those
|
||
who--as experience has shown--are most emphatic in proclaiming the
|
||
necessity of union and unity the moment they find they cannot catch up
|
||
with their adversary's advance.
|
||
|
||
It is to that kind of conduct that the so-called 'patriotic
|
||
disintegration' is to be attributed.
|
||
|
||
Certainly in the years 1918--1919 the founding of a multitude of new
|
||
groups, parties, etc., calling themselves 'Patriotic,' was a natural
|
||
phenomenon of the time, for which the founders were not at all
|
||
responsible. By 1920 the National Socialist German Labour Party had
|
||
slowly crystallized from all these parties and had become supreme. There
|
||
could be no better proof of the sterling honesty of certain individual
|
||
founders than the fact that many of them decided, in a really admirable
|
||
manner, to sacrifice their manifestly less successful movements to the
|
||
stronger movement, by joining it unconditionally and dissolving their
|
||
own.
|
||
|
||
This is specially true in regard to Julius Streicher, who was at that
|
||
time the protagonist of the German Socialist party in N<>rnberg. The
|
||
National Socialist German Labour Party had been founded with similar
|
||
aims in view, but quite independently of the other. I have already said
|
||
that Streicher, then a teacher in N<>rnberg, was the chief protagonist of
|
||
the German Socialist Party. He had a sacred conviction of the mission
|
||
and future of his own movement. As soon, however, as the superior
|
||
strength and stronger growth of the National Socialist Party became
|
||
clear and unquestionable to his mind, he gave up his work in the German
|
||
Socialist Party and called upon his followers to fall into line with the
|
||
National Socialist German Labour Party, which had come out victorious
|
||
from the mutual contest, and carry on the fight within its ranks for the
|
||
common cause. The decision was personally a difficult one for him, but
|
||
it showed a profound sense of honesty.
|
||
|
||
When that first period of the movement was over there remained no
|
||
further dispersion of forces: for their honest intentions had led the
|
||
men of that time to the same honourable, straightforward and just
|
||
conclusion. What we now call the 'patriotic disintegration' owes its
|
||
existence exclusively to the second of the two causes which I have
|
||
mentioned. Ambitious men who at first had no ideas of their own, and
|
||
still less any concept of aims to be pursued, felt themselves 'called'
|
||
exactly at that moment in which the success of the National Socialist
|
||
German Labour Party became unquestionable.
|
||
|
||
Suddenly programmes appeared which were mere transcripts of ours. Ideas
|
||
were proclaimed which had been taken from us. Aims were set up on behalf
|
||
of which we had been fighting for several years, and ways were mapped
|
||
out which the National Socialists had for a long time trodden. All kinds
|
||
of means were resorted to for the purpose of trying to convince the
|
||
public that, although the National Socialist German Labour Party had now
|
||
been for a long time in existence, it was found necessary to establish
|
||
these new parties. But all these phrases were just as insincere as the
|
||
motives behind them were ignoble.
|
||
|
||
In reality all this was grounded only on one dominant motive. That
|
||
motive was the personal ambition of the founders, who wished to play a
|
||
part in which their own pigmy talents could contribute nothing original
|
||
except the gross effrontery which they displayed in appropriating the
|
||
ideas of others, a mode of conduct which in ordinary life is looked upon
|
||
as thieving.
|
||
|
||
At that time there was not an idea or concept launched by other people
|
||
which these political kleptomaniacs did not seize upon at once for the
|
||
purpose of applying to their own base uses. Those who did all this were
|
||
the same people who subsequently, with tears in their eyes, profoundly
|
||
deplored the 'patriotic disintegration' and spoke unceasingly about the
|
||
'necessity of unity'. In doing this they nurtured the secret hope that
|
||
they might be able to cry down the others, who would tire of hearing
|
||
these loud-mouthed accusations and would end up by abandoning all claim
|
||
to the ideas that had been stolen from them and would abandon to the
|
||
thieves not only the task of carrying these ideas into effect but also
|
||
the task of carrying on the movements of which they themselves were the
|
||
original founders.
|
||
|
||
When that did not succeed, and the new enterprises, thanks to the paltry
|
||
mentality of their promoters, did not show the favourable results which
|
||
had been promised beforehand, then they became more modest in their
|
||
pretences and were happy if they could land themselves in one of the
|
||
so-called 'co-operative unions'.
|
||
|
||
At that period everything which could not stand on its own feet joined
|
||
one of those co-operative unions, believing that eight lame people
|
||
hanging on to one another could force a gladiator to surrender to them.
|
||
|
||
But if among all these cripples there was one who was sound of limb he
|
||
had to use all his strength to sustain the others and thus he himself
|
||
was practically paralysed.
|
||
|
||
We ought to look upon the question of joining these working coalitions
|
||
as a tactical problem, but, in coming to a decision, we must never
|
||
forget the following fundamental principle:
|
||
|
||
Through the formation of a working coalition associations which are weak
|
||
in themselves can never be made strong, whereas it can and does happen
|
||
not infrequently that a strong association loses its strength by joining
|
||
in a coalition with weaker ones. It is a mistake to believe that a
|
||
factor of strength will result from the coalition of weak groups;
|
||
because experience shows that under all forms and all conditions the
|
||
majority represents the duffers and poltroons. Hence a multiplicity of
|
||
associations, under a directorate of many heads, elected by these same
|
||
associations, is abandoned to the control of poltroons and weaklings.
|
||
Through such a coalition the free play of forces is paralysed, the
|
||
struggle for the selection of the best is abolished and therewith the
|
||
necessary and final victory of the healthier and stronger is impeded.
|
||
Coalitions of that kind are inimical to the process of natural
|
||
development, because for the most part they hinder rather than advance
|
||
the solution of the problem which is being fought for.
|
||
|
||
It may happen that, from considerations of a purely tactical kind, the
|
||
supreme command of a movement whose goal is set in the future will enter
|
||
into a coalition with such associations for the treatment of special
|
||
questions and may also stand on a common platform with them, but this
|
||
can be only for a short and limited period. Such a coalition must not be
|
||
permanent, if the movement does not wish to renounce its liberating
|
||
mission. Because if it should become indissolubly tied up in such a
|
||
combination it would lose the capacity and the right to allow its own
|
||
forces to work freely in following out a natural development, so as to
|
||
overcome rivals and attain its own objective triumphantly.
|
||
|
||
It must never be forgotten that nothing really great in this world has
|
||
ever been achieved through coalitions, but that such achievements have
|
||
always been due to the triumph of the individual. Successes achieved
|
||
through coalitions, owing to the very nature of their source, carry the
|
||
germs of future disintegration in them from the very start; so much so
|
||
that they have already forfeited what has been achieved. The great
|
||
revolutions which have taken place in human thought and have veritably
|
||
transformed the aspect of the world would have been inconceivable and
|
||
impossible to carry out except through titanic struggles waged between
|
||
individual natures, but never as the enterprises of coalitions.
|
||
|
||
And, above all things, the People's State will never be created by the
|
||
desire for compromise inherent in a patriotic coalition, but only by the
|
||
iron will of a single movement which has successfully come through in
|
||
the struggle with all the others.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
CHAPTER IX
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
FUNDAMENTAL IDEAS REGARDING THE NATURE AND ORGANIZATION OF THE STORM TROOPS
|
||
|
||
|
||
The strength of the old state rested on three pillars: the monarchical
|
||
form of government, the civil service, and the army. The Revolution of
|
||
1918 abolished the form of government, dissolved the army and abandoned
|
||
the civil service to the corruption of party politics. Thus the
|
||
essential supports of what is called the Authority of the State were
|
||
shattered. This authority nearly always depends on three elements, which
|
||
are the essential foundations of all authority.
|
||
|
||
Popular support is the first element which is necessary for the creation
|
||
of authority. But an authority resting on that foundation alone is still
|
||
quite frail, uncertain and vacillating. Hence everyone who finds himself
|
||
vested with an authority that is based only on popular support must take
|
||
measures to improve and consolidate the foundations of that authority by
|
||
the creation of force. Accordingly we must look upon power, that is to
|
||
say, the capacity to use force, as the second foundation on which all
|
||
authority is based. This foundation is more stable and secure, but not
|
||
always stronger, than the first. If popular support and power are united
|
||
together and can endure for a certain time, then an authority may arise
|
||
which is based on a still stronger foundation, namely, the authority of
|
||
tradition. And, finally, if popular support, power, and tradition are
|
||
united together, then the authority based on them may be looked upon as
|
||
invincible.
|
||
|
||
In Germany the Revolution abolished this last foundation. There was no
|
||
longer even a traditional authority. With the collapse of the old REICH,
|
||
the suppression of the monarchical form of government, the destruction
|
||
of all the old insignia of greatness and the imperial symbols, tradition
|
||
was shattered at a blow. The result was that the authority of the State
|
||
was shaken to its foundations.
|
||
|
||
The second pillar of statal authority, namely POWER, also ceased to
|
||
exist. In order to carry through the Revolution it was necessary to
|
||
dissolve that body which had hitherto incorporated the organized force
|
||
and power of the State, namely, the Army. Indeed, some detached
|
||
fragments of the Army itself had to be employed as fighting elements in
|
||
the Revolution. The Armies at the front were not subjected in the same
|
||
measure to this process of disruption; but as they gradually left
|
||
farther behind them the fields of glory on which they had fought
|
||
heroically for four-and-half years, they were attacked by the solvent
|
||
acid that had permeated the Fatherland; and when they arrived at the
|
||
demobilizing centres they fell into that state of confusion which was
|
||
styled voluntary obedience in the time of the Soldiers' Councils.
|
||
|
||
Of course it was out of the question to think of founding any kind of
|
||
authority on this crowd of mutineering soldiers, who looked upon
|
||
military service as a work of eight hours per day. Therefore the second
|
||
element, that which guarantees the stability of authority, was also
|
||
abolished and the Revolution had only the original element, popular
|
||
support, on which to build up its authority. But this basis was
|
||
extraordinarily insecure. By means of a few violent thrusts the
|
||
Revolution had shattered the old statal edifice to its deepest
|
||
foundations, but only because the normal equilibrium within the social
|
||
structure of the nation had already been destroyed by the war.
|
||
|
||
Every national body is made up of three main classes. At one extreme we
|
||
have the best of the people, taking the word 'best' here to indicate
|
||
those who are highly endowed with the civic virtues and are noted for
|
||
their courage and their readiness to sacrifice their private interests.
|
||
At the other extreme are the worst dregs of humanity, in whom vice and
|
||
egotistic interests prevail. Between these two extremes stands the third
|
||
class, which is made up of the broad middle stratum, who do not
|
||
represent radiant heroism or vulgar vice.
|
||
|
||
The stages of a nation's rise are accomplished exclusively under the
|
||
leadership of the best extreme.
|
||
|
||
Times of normal and symmetrical development, or of stable conditions,
|
||
owe their existence and outwardly visible characteristics to the
|
||
preponderating influence of the middle stratum. In this stage the two
|
||
extreme classes are balanced against one another; in other words, they
|
||
are relatively cancelled out.
|
||
|
||
Times of national collapse are determined by the preponderating
|
||
influence of the worst elements.
|
||
|
||
It must be noted here, however, that the broad masses, which constitute
|
||
what I have called the middle section, come forward and make their
|
||
influence felt only when the two extreme sections are engaged in mutual
|
||
strife. In case one of the extreme sections comes out victorious the
|
||
middle section will readily submit to its domination. If the best
|
||
dominate, the broad masses will follow it. Should the worst extreme turn
|
||
out triumphant, then the middle section will at least offer no
|
||
opposition to it; for the masses that constitute the middle class never
|
||
fight their own battles.
|
||
|
||
The outpouring of blood for four-and-a-half years during the war
|
||
destroyed the inner equilibrium between these three sections in so far
|
||
as it can be said--though admitting the sacrifices made by the middle
|
||
section--that the class which consisted of the best human elements
|
||
almost completely disappeared through the loss of so much of its blood
|
||
in the war, because it was impossible to replace the truly enormous
|
||
quantity of heroic German blood which had been shed during those
|
||
four-and-a-half years. In hundreds of thousands of cases it was always a
|
||
matter of 'VOLUNTEERS to the front', VOLUNTEERS for patrol and duty,
|
||
VOLUNTEER dispatch carriers, VOLUNTEERS for establishing and working
|
||
telephonic communications, VOLUNTEERS for bridge-building, VOLUNTEERS
|
||
for the submarines, VOLUNTEERS for the air service, VOLUNTEERS for the
|
||
storm battalions, and so on, and so on. During four-and-a-half years,
|
||
and on thousands of occasions, there was always the call for volunteers
|
||
and again for volunteers. And the result was always the same. Beardless
|
||
young fellows or fully developed men, all filled with an ardent love for
|
||
their country, urged on by their own courageous spirit or by a lofty
|
||
sense of their duty--it was always such men who answered the call for
|
||
volunteers. Tens of thousands, indeed hundreds of thousands, of such men
|
||
came forward, so that that kind of human material steadily grew scarcer
|
||
and scarcer. What did not actually fall was maimed in the fight or
|
||
gradually had to join the ranks of the crippled because of the wounds
|
||
they were constantly receiving, and thus they had to carry on
|
||
interminably owing to the steady decrease in the supply of such men. In
|
||
1914 whole armies were composed of volunteers who, owing to a criminal
|
||
lack of conscience on the part of our feckless parliamentarians, had not
|
||
received any proper training in times of peace, and so were thrown as
|
||
defenceless cannon-fodder to the enemy. The four hundred thousand who
|
||
thus fell or were permanently maimed on the battlefields of Flanders
|
||
could not be replaced any more. Their loss was something far more than
|
||
merely numerical. With their death the scales, which were already too
|
||
lightly weighed at that end of the social structure which represented
|
||
our best human quality, now moved upwards rapidly, becoming heavier on
|
||
the other end with those vulgar elements of infamy and cowardice--in
|
||
short, there was an increase in the elements that constituted the worst
|
||
extreme of our population.
|
||
|
||
And there was something more: While for four-and-a-half years our best
|
||
human material was being thinned to an exceptional degree on the
|
||
battlefields, our worst people wonderfully succeeded in saving
|
||
themselves. For each hero who made the supreme sacrifice and ascended
|
||
the steps of Valhalla, there was a shirker who cunningly dodged death on
|
||
the plea of being engaged in business that was more or less useful at
|
||
home.
|
||
|
||
And so the picture which presented itself at the end of the war was
|
||
this: The great middle stratum of the nation had fulfilled its duty and
|
||
paid its toll of blood. One extreme of the population, which was
|
||
constituted of the best elements, had given a typical example of its
|
||
heroism and had sacrificed itself almost to a man. The other extreme,
|
||
which was constituted of the worst elements of the population, had
|
||
preserved itself almost intact, through taking advantage of absurd laws
|
||
and also because the authorities failed to enforce certain articles of
|
||
the military code.
|
||
|
||
This carefully preserved scum of our nation then made the Revolution.
|
||
And the reason why it could do so was that the extreme section composed
|
||
of the best elements was no longer there to oppose it. It no longer
|
||
existed.
|
||
|
||
Hence the German Revolution, from the very beginning, depended on only
|
||
one section of the population. This act of Cain was not committed by the
|
||
German people as such, but by an obscure CANAILLE of deserters,
|
||
hooligans, etc.
|
||
|
||
The man at the front gladly welcomed the end of the strife in which so
|
||
much blood had been shed. He was happy to be able to return home and see
|
||
his wife and children once again. But he had no moral connection with
|
||
the Revolution. He did not like it, nor did he like those who had
|
||
provoked and organized it. During the four-and-a-half years of that
|
||
bitter struggle at the front he had come to forget the party hyenas at
|
||
home and all their wrangling had become foreign to him.
|
||
|
||
The Revolution was really popular only with a small section of the
|
||
German people: namely, that class and their accomplices who had selected
|
||
the rucksack as the hall-mark of all honourable citizens in this new
|
||
State. They did not like the Revolution for its own sake, though many
|
||
people still erroneously believe the contrary, but for the consequences
|
||
which followed in its train.
|
||
|
||
But it was very difficult to establish any abiding authority on the
|
||
popular support given to these Marxist freebooters. And yet the young
|
||
Republic stood in need of authority at any cost, unless it was ready to
|
||
agree to be overthrown after a short period of chaos by an elementary
|
||
force assembled from those last elements that still remained among the
|
||
best extreme of the population.
|
||
|
||
The danger which those who were responsible for the Revolution feared
|
||
most at that time was that, in the turmoil of the confusion which they
|
||
themselves had created, the ground would suddenly be taken from under
|
||
their feet, that they might be suddenly seized and transported to
|
||
another terrain by an iron grip, such as has often appeared at these
|
||
junctures in the history of nations. The Republic must be consolidated
|
||
at all costs.
|
||
|
||
Hence it was forced almost immediately after its foundation to erect
|
||
another pillar beside that wavering pillar of popularity. They found
|
||
that power must be organized once again in order to procure a firmer
|
||
foundation for their authority.
|
||
|
||
When those who had been the matadors of the Revolution in December 1918,
|
||
and January and February 1919, felt the ground trembling beneath their
|
||
feet they looked around them for men who would be ready to reinforce
|
||
them with military support; for their feeble position was dependent only
|
||
on whatever popular favour they enjoyed. The 'anti-militarist' Republic
|
||
had need of soldiers. But the first and only pillar on which the
|
||
authority of the State rested, namely, its popularity, was grounded only
|
||
on a conglomeration of rowdies and thieves, burglars, deserters,
|
||
shirkers, etc. Therefore in that section of the nation which we have
|
||
called the evil extreme it was useless to look for men who would be
|
||
willing to sacrifice their lives on behalf of a new ideal. The section
|
||
which had nourished the revolutionary idea and carried out the
|
||
Revolution was neither able nor willing to call on the soldiers to
|
||
protect it. For that section had no wish whatsoever to organize a
|
||
republican State, but to disorganize what already existed and thus
|
||
satisfy its own instincts all the better. Their password was not the
|
||
organization and construction of the German Republic, but rather the
|
||
plundering of it.
|
||
|
||
Hence the cry for help sent out by the public representatives, who were
|
||
beset by a thousand anxieties, did not find any response among this
|
||
class of people, but rather provoked a feeling of bitterness and
|
||
repudiation. For they looked upon this step as the beginning of a breach
|
||
of faith and trust, and in the building up of an authority which was no
|
||
longer based on popular support but also on force they saw the beginning
|
||
of a hostile move against what the Revolution meant essentially for
|
||
those elements. They feared that measures might be taken against the
|
||
right to robbery and absolute domination on the part of a horde of
|
||
thieves and plunderers--in short, the worst rabble--who had broken out
|
||
of the convict prisons and left their chains behind.
|
||
|
||
The representatives of the people might cry out as much as they liked,
|
||
but they could get no help from that rabble. The cries for help were met
|
||
with the counter-cry 'traitors' by those very people on whose support
|
||
the popularity of the regime was founded.
|
||
|
||
Then for the first time large numbers of young Germans were found who
|
||
were ready to button on the military uniform once again in the service
|
||
of 'Peace and Order', as they believed, shouldering the carbine and
|
||
rifle and donning the steel helmet to defend the wreckers of the
|
||
Fatherland. Volunteer corps were assembled and, although hating the
|
||
Revolution, they began to defend it. The practical effect of their
|
||
action was to render the Revolution firm and stable. In doing this they
|
||
acted in perfect good faith.
|
||
|
||
The real organizer of the Revolution and the actual wire-puller behind
|
||
it, the international Jew, had sized up the situation correctly. The
|
||
German people were not yet ripe to be drawn into the blood swamp of
|
||
Bolshevism, as the Russian people had been drawn. And that was because
|
||
there was a closer racial union between the intellectual classes in
|
||
Germany and the manual workers, and also because broad social strata
|
||
were permeated with cultured people, such as was the case also in the
|
||
other States of Western Europe; but this state of affairs was completely
|
||
lacking in Russia. In that country the intellectual classes were mostly
|
||
not of Russian nationality, or at least they did not have the racial
|
||
characteristics of the Slav. The thin upper layer of intellectuals which
|
||
then existed in Russia might be abolished at any time, because there was
|
||
no intermediate stratum connecting it organically with the great mass of
|
||
the people. There the mental and moral level of the great mass of the
|
||
people was frightfully low.
|
||
|
||
In Russia the moment the agitators were successful in inciting broad
|
||
masses of the people, who could not read or write, against the upper
|
||
layer of intellectuals who were not in contact with the masses or
|
||
permanently linked with them in any way--at that moment the destiny of
|
||
Russia was decided, the success of the Revolution was assured. Thereupon
|
||
the analphabetic Russian became the slave of his Jewish dictators who,
|
||
on their side, were shrewd enough to name their dictatorship 'The
|
||
Dictatorship of the People'.
|
||
|
||
In the case of Germany an additional factor must be taken into account.
|
||
Here the Revolution could be carried into effect only if the Army could
|
||
first be gradually dismembered. But the real author of the Revolution
|
||
and of the process of disintegration in the Army was not the soldier who
|
||
had fought at the front but the CANAILLE which more or less shunned the
|
||
light and which were either quartered in the home garrisons or were
|
||
officiating as 'indispensables' somewhere in the business world at home.
|
||
This army was reinforced by ten thousand deserters who, without running
|
||
any particular risk, could turn their backs on the Front. At all times
|
||
the real poltroon fears nothing so much as death. But at the Front he
|
||
had death before his eyes every day in a thousand different shapes.
|
||
There has always been one possible way, and one only, of making weak or
|
||
wavering men, or even downright poltroons, face their duty steadfastly.
|
||
This means that the deserter must be given to understand that his
|
||
desertion will bring upon him just the very thing he is flying from. At
|
||
the Front a man may die, but the deserter MUST die. Only this draconian
|
||
threat against every attempt to desert the flag can have a terrifying
|
||
effect, not merely on the individual but also on the mass. Therein lay
|
||
the meaning and purpose of the military penal code.
|
||
|
||
It was a fine belief to think that the great struggle for the life of a
|
||
nation could be carried through if it were based solely on voluntary
|
||
fidelity arising from and sustained by the knowledge that such a
|
||
struggle was necessary. The voluntary fulfilment of one's duty is a
|
||
motive that determines the actions of only the best men, but not of the
|
||
average type of men. Hence special laws are necessary; just as, for
|
||
instance, the law against stealing, which was not made for men who are
|
||
honest on principle but for the weak and unstable elements. Such laws
|
||
are meant to hinder the evil-doer through their deterrent effect and
|
||
thus prevent a state of affairs from arising in which the honest man is
|
||
considered the more stupid, and which would end in the belief that it is
|
||
better to have a share in the robbery than to stand by with empty hands
|
||
or allow oneself to be robbed.
|
||
|
||
It was a mistake to believe that in a struggle which, according to all
|
||
human foresight, might last for several years it would be possible to
|
||
dispense with those expedients which the experience of hundreds and even
|
||
of thousands of years had proved to be effective in making weak and
|
||
unstable men face and fulfil their duty in difficult times and at
|
||
moments of great nervous stress.
|
||
|
||
For the voluntary war hero it is, of course, not necessary to have the
|
||
death penalty in the military code, but it is necessary for the cowardly
|
||
egoists who value their own lives more than the existence of the
|
||
community in the hour of national need. Such weak and characterless
|
||
people can be held back from surrendering to their cowardice only by the
|
||
application of the heaviest penalties. When men have to struggle with
|
||
death every day and remain for weeks in trenches of mire, often very
|
||
badly supplied with food, the man who is unsure of himself and begins to
|
||
waver cannot be made to stick to his post by threats of imprisonment or
|
||
even penal servitude. Only by a ruthless enforcement of the death
|
||
penalty can this be effected. For experience shows that at such a time
|
||
the recruit considers prison a thousand times more preferable than the
|
||
battlefield. In prison at least his precious life is not in danger. The
|
||
practical abolition of the death penalty during the war was a mistake
|
||
for which we had to pay dearly. Such omission really meant that the
|
||
military penal code was no longer recognized as valid. An army of
|
||
deserters poured into the stations at the rear or returned home,
|
||
especially in 1918, and there began to form that huge criminal
|
||
organization with which we were suddenly faced, after November 7th,
|
||
1918, and which perpetrated the Revolution.
|
||
|
||
The Front had nothing to do with all this. Naturally, the soldiers at
|
||
the Front were yearning for peace. But it was precisely that fact which
|
||
represented a special danger for the Revolution. For when the German
|
||
soldiers began to draw near home, after the Armistice, the
|
||
revolutionaries were in trepidation and asked the same question again
|
||
and again: What will the troops from the Front do? Will the field-greys
|
||
stand for it?
|
||
|
||
During those weeks the Revolution was forced to give itself at least an
|
||
external appearance of moderation, if it were not to run the risk of
|
||
being wrecked in a moment by a few German divisions. For at that time,
|
||
even if the commander of one division alone had made up his mind to
|
||
rally the soldiers of his division, who had always remained faithful to
|
||
him, in an onslaught to tear down the red flag and put the 'councils' up
|
||
against the wall, or, if there was any resistance, to break it with
|
||
trench-mortars and hand grenades, that division would have grown into an
|
||
army of sixty divisions in less than four weeks. The Jew wire-pullers
|
||
were terrified by this prospect more than by anything else; and to
|
||
forestall this particular danger they found it necessary to give the
|
||
Revolution a certain aspect of moderation. They dared not allow it to
|
||
degenerate into Bolshevism, so they had to face the existing conditions
|
||
by putting up the hypocritical picture of 'order and tranquillity'.
|
||
Hence many important concessions, the appeal to the old civil service
|
||
and to the heads of the old Army. They would be needed at least for a
|
||
certain time, and only when they had served the purpose of Turks' Heads
|
||
could the deserved kick-out be administered with impunity. Then the
|
||
Republic would be taken entirely out of the hands of the old servants of
|
||
the State and delivered into the claws of the revolutionaries.
|
||
|
||
They thought that this was the only plan which would succeed in duping
|
||
the old generals and civil servants and disarm any eventual opposition
|
||
beforehand through the apparently harmless and mild character of the new
|
||
regime.
|
||
|
||
Practical experience has shown to what extent the plan succeeded.
|
||
|
||
The Revolution, however, was not made by the peaceful and orderly
|
||
elements of the nation but rather by rioters, thieves and robbers. And
|
||
the way in which the Revolution was developing did not accord with the
|
||
intentions of these latter elements; still, on tactical grounds, it was
|
||
not possible to explain to them the reasons for the course things were
|
||
taking and make that course acceptable.
|
||
|
||
As Social Democracy gradually gained power it lost more and more the
|
||
character of a crude revolutionary party. Of course in their inner
|
||
hearts the Social Democrats wanted a revolution; and their leaders had
|
||
no other end in view. Certainly not. But what finally resulted was only
|
||
a revolutionary programme; but not a body of men who would be able to
|
||
carry it out. A revolution cannot be carried through by a party of ten
|
||
million members. If such a movement were attempted the leaders would
|
||
find that it was not an extreme section of the population on which they
|
||
had to depend butrather the broad masses of the middle stratum; hence
|
||
the inert masses.
|
||
|
||
Recognizing all this, already during the war, the Jews caused the famous
|
||
split in the Social Democratic Party. While the Social Democratic Party,
|
||
conforming to the inertia of its mass following, clung like a leaden
|
||
weight on the neck of the national defence, the actively radical
|
||
elements were extracted from it and formed into new aggressive columns
|
||
for purposes of attack. The Independent Socialist Party and the
|
||
Spartacist League were the storm battalions of revolutionary Marxism.
|
||
The objective assigned to them was to create a FAIT ACCOMPLI, on the
|
||
grounds of which the masses of the Social Democratic Party could take
|
||
their stand, having been prepared for this event long beforehand. The
|
||
feckless bourgeoisie had been estimated at its just value by the
|
||
Marxists and treated EN CANAILLE. Nobody bothered about it, knowing well
|
||
that in their canine servility the representatives of an old and
|
||
worn-out generation would not be able to offer any serious resistance.
|
||
|
||
When the Revolution had succeeded and its artificers believed that the
|
||
main pillars of the old State had been broken down, the Army returning
|
||
from the Front began to appear in the light of a sinister sphinx and
|
||
thus made it necessary to slow down the national course of the
|
||
Revolution. The main body of the Social Democratic horde occupied the
|
||
conquered positions, and the Independent Socialist and Spartacist storm
|
||
battalions were side-tracked.
|
||
|
||
But that did not happen without a struggle.
|
||
|
||
The activist assault formations that had started the Revolution were
|
||
dissatisfied and felt that they had been betrayed. They now wanted to
|
||
continue the fight on their own account. But their illimitable
|
||
racketeering became odious even to the wire-pullers of the Revolution.
|
||
For the Revolution itself had scarcely been accomplished when two camps
|
||
appeared. In the one camp were the elements of peace and order; in the
|
||
other were those of blood and terror. Was it not perfectly natural that
|
||
our bourgeoisie should rush with flying colours to the camp of peace and
|
||
order? For once in their lives their piteous political organizations
|
||
found it possible to act, inasmuch as the ground had been prepared for
|
||
them on which they were glad to get a new footing; and thus to a certain
|
||
extent they found themselves in coalition with that power which they
|
||
hated but feared. The German political bourgeoisie achieved the high
|
||
honour of being able to associate itself with the accursed Marxist
|
||
leaders for the purpose of combating Bolshevism.
|
||
|
||
Thus the following state of affairs took shape as early as December 1918
|
||
and January 1919:
|
||
|
||
A minority constituted of the worst elements had made the Revolution.
|
||
And behind this minority all the Marxist parties immediately fell into
|
||
step. The Revolution itself had an outward appearance of moderation,
|
||
which aroused against it the enmity of the fanatical extremists. These
|
||
began to launch hand-grenades and fire machine-guns, occupying public
|
||
buildings, thus threatening to destroy the moderate appearance of the
|
||
Revolution. To prevent this terror from developing further a truce was
|
||
concluded between the representatives of the new regime and the
|
||
adherents of the old order, so as to be able to wage a common fight
|
||
against the extremists. The result was that the enemies of the Republic
|
||
ceased to oppose the Republic as such and helped to subjugate those who
|
||
were also enemies of the Republic, though for quite different reasons.
|
||
But a further result was that all danger of the adherents of the old
|
||
State putting up a fight against the new was now definitely averted.
|
||
|
||
This fact must always be clearly kept in mind. Only by remembering it
|
||
can we understand how it was possible that a nation in which nine-tenths
|
||
of the people had not joined in a revolution, where seven-tenths
|
||
repudiated it and six-tenths detested it--how this nation allowed the
|
||
Revolution to be imposed upon it by the remaining one-tenth of the
|
||
population.
|
||
|
||
Gradually the barricade heroes in the Spartacist camp petered out, and
|
||
so did the nationalist patriots and idealists on the other side. As
|
||
these two groups steadily dwindled, the masses of the middle stratum, as
|
||
always happens, triumphed. The Bourgeoisie and the Marxists met together
|
||
on the grounds of accomplished facts, and the Republic began to be
|
||
consolidated. At first, however, that did not prevent the bourgeois
|
||
parties from propounding their monarchist ideas for some time further,
|
||
especially at the elections, whereby they endeavoured to conjure up the
|
||
spirits of the dead past to encourage their own feeble-hearted
|
||
followers. It was not an honest proceeding. In their hearts they had
|
||
broken with the monarchy long ago; but the foulness of the new regime
|
||
had begun to extend its corruptive action and make itself felt in the
|
||
camp of the bourgeois parties. The common bourgeois politician now felt
|
||
better in the slime of republican corruption than in the severe decency
|
||
of the defunct State, which still lived in his memory.
|
||
|
||
As I have already pointed out, after the destruction of the old Army the
|
||
revolutionary leaders were forced to strengthen statal authority by
|
||
creating a new factor of power. In the conditions that existed they
|
||
could do this only by winning over to their side the adherents of a
|
||
WELTANSCHAUUNG which was a direct contradiction of their own. From
|
||
those elements alone it was possible slowly to create a new army which,
|
||
limited numerically by the peace treaties, had to be subsequently
|
||
transformed in spirit so as to become an instrument of the new regime.
|
||
|
||
Setting aside the defects of the old State, which really became the
|
||
cause of the Revolution, if we ask how it was possible to carry the
|
||
Revolution to a successful issue as a political act, we arrive at the
|
||
following conclusions:
|
||
|
||
l. It was due to a process of dry rot in our conceptions of duty and
|
||
obedience.
|
||
|
||
2. It was due also to the passive timidity of the Parties who were
|
||
supposed to uphold the State.
|
||
|
||
To this the following must be added: The dry rot which attacked our
|
||
concepts of duty and obedience was fundamentally due to our wholly
|
||
non-national and purely State education. From this came the habit of
|
||
confusing means and ends. Consciousness of duty, fulfilment of duty, and
|
||
obedience, are not ends in themselves no more than the State is an end
|
||
in itself; but they all ought to be employed as means to facilitate and
|
||
assure the existence of a community of people who are kindred both
|
||
physically and spiritually. At a moment when a nation is manifestly
|
||
collapsing and when all outward signs show that it is on the point of
|
||
becoming the victim of ruthless oppression, thanks to the conduct of a
|
||
few miscreants, to obey these people and fulfil one's duty towards them
|
||
is merely doctrinaire formalism, and indeed pure folly; whereas, on the
|
||
other hand, the refusal of obedience and fulfilment of duty in such a
|
||
case might save the nation from collapse. According to our current
|
||
bourgeois idea of the State, if a divisional general received from above
|
||
the order not to shoot he fulfilled his duty and therefore acted rightly
|
||
in not shooting, because to the bourgeois mind blind formal obedience is
|
||
a more valuable thing than the life of a nation. But according to the
|
||
National Socialist concept it is not obedience to weak superiors that
|
||
should prevail at such moments, in such an hour the duty of assuming
|
||
personal responsibility towards the whole nation makes its appearance.
|
||
|
||
The Revolution succeeded because that concept had ceased to be a vital
|
||
force with our people, or rather with our governments, and died down to
|
||
something that was merely formal and doctrinaire.
|
||
|
||
As regards the second point, it may be said that the more profound cause
|
||
of the fecklessness of the bourgeois parties must be attributed to the
|
||
fact that the most active and upright section of our people had lost
|
||
their lives in the war. Apart from that, the bourgeois parties, which
|
||
may be considered as the only political formations that stood by the old
|
||
State, were convinced that they ought to defend their principles only by
|
||
intellectual ways and means, since the use of physical force was
|
||
permitted only to the State. That outlook was a sign of the weakness and
|
||
decadence which had been gradually developing. And it was also senseless
|
||
at a period when there was a political adversary who had long ago
|
||
abandoned that standpoint and, instead of this, had openly declared that
|
||
he meant to attain his political ends by force whenever that became
|
||
possible. When Marxism emerged in the world of bourgeois democracy, as a
|
||
consequence of that democracy itself, the appeal sent out by the
|
||
bourgeois democracy to fight Marxism with intellectual weapons was a
|
||
piece of folly for which a terrible expiation had to be made later on.
|
||
For Marxism always professed the doctrine that the use of arms was a
|
||
matter which had to be judged from the standpoint of expediency and that
|
||
success justified the use of arms.
|
||
|
||
This idea was proved correct during the days from November 7 to 10,
|
||
1918. The Marxists did not then bother themselves in the least about
|
||
parliament or democracy, but they gave the death blow to both by turning
|
||
loose their horde of criminals to shoot and raise hell.
|
||
|
||
When the Revolution was over the bourgeois parties changed the title of
|
||
their firm and suddenly reappeared, the heroic leaders emerging from
|
||
dark cellars or more lightsome storehouses where they had sought refuge.
|
||
But, just as happens in the case of all representatives of antiquated
|
||
institutions, they had not forgotten their errors or learned anything
|
||
new. Their political programme was grounded in the past, even though
|
||
they themselves had become reconciled to the new regime. Their aim was
|
||
to secure a share in the new establishment, and so they continued the
|
||
use of words as their sole weapon.
|
||
|
||
Therefore after the Revolution the bourgeois parties also capitulated to
|
||
the street in a miserable fashion.
|
||
|
||
When the law for the Protection of the Republic was introduced the
|
||
majority was not at first in favour of it. But, confronted with two
|
||
hundred thousand Marxists demonstrating in the streets, the bourgeois
|
||
'statesmen' were so terror-stricken that they voted for the Law against
|
||
their wills, for the edifying reason that otherwise they feared they
|
||
might get their heads smashed by the enraged masses on leaving the
|
||
Reichstag.
|
||
|
||
And so the new State developed along its own course, as if there had
|
||
been no national opposition at all.
|
||
|
||
The only organizations which at that time had the strength and courage
|
||
to face Marxism and its enraged masses were first of all the volunteer
|
||
corps (Note 19), and subsequently the organizations for self-defence, the
|
||
civic guards and finally the associations formed by the demobilized
|
||
soldiers of the old Army.
|
||
|
||
[Note 19. After the DEBACLE of 1918 several semi-military associations were
|
||
formed by demobilized officers who had fought at the Front. These were
|
||
semi-clandestine associations and were known as FREIKORPS (Volunteer
|
||
corps). Their principal purpose was to act as rallying centres for the
|
||
old nationalist elements.]
|
||
|
||
But the existence of these bodies did not appreciably change the course
|
||
of German history; and that for the following causes:
|
||
|
||
As the so-called national parties were without influence, because they
|
||
had no force which could effectively demonstrate in the street, the
|
||
Leagues of Defence could not exercise any influence because they had no
|
||
political idea and especially because they had no definite political aim
|
||
in view.
|
||
|
||
The success which Marxism once attained was due to perfect co-operation
|
||
between political purposes and ruthless force. What deprived nationalist
|
||
Germany of all practical hopes of shaping German development was the
|
||
lack of a determined co-operation between brute force and political aims
|
||
wisely chosen.
|
||
|
||
Whatever may have been the aspirations of the 'national' parties, they
|
||
had no force whatsoever to fight for these aspirations, least of all in
|
||
the streets.
|
||
|
||
The Defence Leagues had force at their disposal. They were masters of
|
||
the street and of the State, but they lacked political ideas and aims on
|
||
behalf of which their forces might have been or could have been employed
|
||
in the interests of the German nation. The cunning Jew was able in both
|
||
cases, by his astute powers of persuasion, in reinforcing an already
|
||
existing tendency to make this unfortunate state of affairs permanent
|
||
and at the same time to drive the roots of it still deeper.
|
||
|
||
The Jew succeeded brilliantly in using his Press for the purpose of
|
||
spreading abroad the idea that the defence associations were of a
|
||
'non-political' character just as in politics he was always astute
|
||
enough to praise the purely intellectual character of the struggle and
|
||
demand that it must always be kept on that plane
|
||
|
||
Millions of German imbeciles then repeated this folly without having the
|
||
slightest suspicion that by so doing they were, for all practical
|
||
purposes, disarming themselves and delivering themselves defenceless
|
||
into the hands of the Jew.
|
||
|
||
But there is a natural explanation of this also. The lack of a great
|
||
idea which would re-shape things anew has always meant a limitation in
|
||
fighting power. The conviction of the right to employ even the most
|
||
brutal weapons is always associated with an ardent faith in the
|
||
necessity for a new and revolutionary transformation of the world.
|
||
|
||
A movement which does not fight for such high aims and ideals will never
|
||
have recourse to extreme means.
|
||
|
||
The appearance of a new and great idea was the secret of success in the
|
||
French Revolution. The Russian Revolution owes its triumph to an idea.
|
||
And it was only the idea that enabled Fascism triumphantly to subject a
|
||
whole nation to a process of complete renovation.
|
||
|
||
Bourgeois parties are not capable of such an achievement. And it was not
|
||
the bourgeois parties alone that fixed their aim in a restoration of the
|
||
past. The defence associations also did so, in so far as they concerned
|
||
themselves with political aims at all. The spirit of the old war legions
|
||
and Kyffauser tendencies lived in them and therewith helped politically
|
||
to blunt the sharpest weapons which the German nation then possessed and
|
||
allow them to rust in the hands of republican serfs. The fact that these
|
||
associations were inspired by the best of intentions in so doing, and
|
||
certainly acted in good faith, does not alter in the slightest degree
|
||
the foolishness of the course they adopted.
|
||
|
||
In the consolidated REICHSWEHR Marxism gradually acquired the support of
|
||
force, which it needed for its authority. As a logical consequence it
|
||
proceeded to abolish those defence associations which it considered
|
||
dangerous, declaring that they were now no longer necessary. Some rash
|
||
leaders who defied the Marxist orders were summoned to court and sent to
|
||
prison. But they all got what they had deserved.
|
||
|
||
The founding of the National Socialist German Labour Party incited a
|
||
movement which was the first to fix its aim, not in a mechanical
|
||
restoration of the past--as the bourgeois parties did--but in the
|
||
substitution of an organic People's State for the present absurd statal
|
||
mechanism.
|
||
|
||
From the first day of its foundation the new movement took its stand on
|
||
the principle that its ideas had to be propagated by intellectual means
|
||
but that, wherever necessary, muscular force must be employed to support
|
||
this propaganda. In accordance with their conviction of the paramount
|
||
importance of the new doctrine, the leaders of the new movement
|
||
naturally believe that no sacrifice can be considered too great when it
|
||
is a question of carrying through the purpose of the movement.
|
||
|
||
I have emphasized that in certain circumstances a movement which is
|
||
meant to win over the hearts of the people must be ready to defend
|
||
itself with its own forces against terrorist attempts on the part of its
|
||
adversaries. It has invariably happened in the history of the world that
|
||
formal State authority has failed to break a reign of terror which was
|
||
inspired by a WELTANSCHAUUNG. It can only be conquered by a new and
|
||
different WELTANSCHAUUNG whose representatives are quite as audacious
|
||
and determined. The acknowledgment of this fact has always been very
|
||
unpleasant for the bureaucrats who are the protectors of the State, but
|
||
the fact remains nevertheless. The rulers of the State can guarantee
|
||
tranquillity and order only in case the State embodies a WELTANSCHAUUNG
|
||
which is shared in by the people as a whole; so that elements of
|
||
disturbance can be treated as isolated criminals, instead of being
|
||
considered as the champions of an idea which is diametrically opposed to
|
||
official opinions. If such should be the case the State may employ the
|
||
most violent measures for centuries long against the terror that
|
||
threatens it; but in the end all these measures will prove futile, and
|
||
the State will have to succumb.
|
||
|
||
The German State is intensely overrun by Marxism. In a struggle that
|
||
went on for seventy years the State was not able to prevent the triumph
|
||
of the Marxist idea. Even though the sentences to penal servitude and
|
||
imprisonment amounted in all to thousands of years, and even though the
|
||
most sanguinary methods of repression were in innumerable instances
|
||
threatened against the champions of the Marxist WELTANSCHAUUNG, in the
|
||
end the State was forced to capitulate almost completely. The ordinary
|
||
bourgeois political leaders will deny all this, but their protests are
|
||
futile.
|
||
|
||
Seeing that the State capitulated unconditionally to Marxism on November
|
||
9th, 1918, it will not suddenly rise up tomorrow as the conqueror of
|
||
Marxism. On the contrary. Bourgeois simpletons sitting on office stools
|
||
in the various ministries babble about the necessity of not governing
|
||
against the wishes of the workers, and by the word 'workers' they mean
|
||
the Marxists. By identifying the German worker with Marxism not only are
|
||
they guilty of a vile falsification of the truth, but they thus try to
|
||
hide their own collapse before the Marxist idea and the Marxist
|
||
organization.
|
||
|
||
In view of the complete subordination of the present State to Marxism,
|
||
the National Socialist Movement feels all the more bound not only to
|
||
prepare the way for the triumph of its idea by appealing to the reason
|
||
and understanding of the public but also to take upon itself the
|
||
responsibility of organizing its own defence against the terror of the
|
||
International, which is intoxicated with its own victory.
|
||
|
||
I have already described how practical experience in our young movement
|
||
led us slowly to organize a system of defence for our meetings. This
|
||
gradually assumed the character of a military body specially trained for
|
||
the maintenance of order, and tended to develop into a service which
|
||
would have its properly organized cadres.
|
||
|
||
This new formation might resemble the defence associations externally,
|
||
but in reality there were no grounds of comparison between the one and
|
||
the other.
|
||
|
||
As I have already said, the German defence organizations did not have
|
||
any definite political ideas of their own. They really were only
|
||
associations for mutual protection, and they were trained and organized
|
||
accordingly, so that they were an illegal complement or auxiliary to the
|
||
legal forces of the State. Their character as free corps arose only from
|
||
the way in which they were constructed and the situation in which the
|
||
State found itself at that time. But they certainly could not claim to
|
||
be free corps on the grounds that they were associations formed freely
|
||
and privately for the purpose of fighting for their own freely formed
|
||
political convictions. Such they were not, despite the fact that some of
|
||
their leaders and some associations as such were definitely opposed to
|
||
the Republic. For before we can speak of political convictions in the
|
||
higher sense we must be something more than merely convinced that the
|
||
existing regime is defective. Political convictions in the higher sense
|
||
mean that one has the picture of a new regime clearly before one's mind,
|
||
feels that the establishment of this regime is an absolute necessity and
|
||
sets himself to carry out that purpose as the highest task to which his
|
||
life can be devoted.
|
||
|
||
The troops for the preservation of order, which were then formed under
|
||
the National Socialist Movement, were fundamentally different from all
|
||
the other defence associations by reason of the fact that our formations
|
||
were not meant in any way to defend the state of things created by the
|
||
Revolution, but rather that they were meant exclusively to support our
|
||
struggle for the creation of a new Germany.
|
||
|
||
In the beginning this body was merely a guard to maintain order at our
|
||
meetings. Its first task was limited to making it possible for us to
|
||
hold our meetings, which otherwise would have been completely prevented
|
||
by our opponents. These men were at that time trained merely for
|
||
purposes of attack, but they were not taught to adore the big stick
|
||
exclusively, as was then pretended in stupid German patriotic circles.
|
||
They used the cudgel because they knew that it can be made impossible
|
||
for high ideals to be put forward if the man who endeavours to propagate
|
||
them can be struck down with the cudgel. As a matter of fact, it has
|
||
happened in history not infrequently that some of the greatest minds
|
||
have perished under the blows of the most insignificant helots. Our
|
||
bodyguards did not look upon violence as an end in itself, but they
|
||
protected the expositors of ideal aims and purposes against hostile
|
||
coercion by violence. They also understood that there was no obligation
|
||
to undertake the defence of a State which did not guarantee the defence
|
||
of the nation, but that, on the contrary, they had to defend the nation
|
||
against those who were threatening to destroy nation and State.
|
||
|
||
After the fight which took place at the meeting in the Munich
|
||
Hofbr<EFBFBD>uhaus, where the small number of our guards who were present won
|
||
everlasting fame for themselves by the heroic manner in which they
|
||
stormed the adversaries; these guards were called THE STORM DETACHMENT.
|
||
As the name itself indicates, they represent only a DETACHMENT of the
|
||
Movement. They are one constituent element of it, just as is the Press,
|
||
the propaganda, educational institutes, and other sections of the Party.
|
||
|
||
We learned how necessary was the formation of such a body, not only from
|
||
our experience on the occasion of that memorable meeting but also when
|
||
we sought gradually to carry the Movement beyond Munich and extend it to
|
||
the other parts of Germany. Once we had begun to appear as a danger to
|
||
Marxism the Marxists lost no opportunity of trying to crush beforehand
|
||
all preparations for the holding of National Socialist meetings. When
|
||
they did not succeed in this they tried to break up the meeting itself.
|
||
It goes without saying that all the Marxist organizations, no matter of
|
||
what grade or view, blindly supported the policy and activities of their
|
||
representations in every case. But what is to be said of the bourgeois
|
||
parties who, when they were reduced to silence by these same Marxists
|
||
and in many places did not dare to send their speakers to appear before
|
||
the public, yet showed themselves pleased, in a stupid and
|
||
incomprehensible manner, every time we received any kind of set-back in
|
||
our fight against Marxism. The bourgeois parties were happy to think
|
||
that those whom they themselves could not stand up against, but had to
|
||
knuckle down to, could not be broken by us. What must be said of those
|
||
State officials, chiefs of police, and even cabinet ministers, who
|
||
showed a scandalous lack of principle in presenting themselves
|
||
externally to the public as 'national' and yet shamelessly acted as the
|
||
henchmen of the Marxists in the disputes which we, National Socialists,
|
||
had with the latter. What can be said of persons who debased themselves
|
||
so far, for the sake of a little abject praise in the Jewish Press, that
|
||
they persecuted those men to whose heroic courage and intervention,
|
||
regardless of risk, they were partly indebted for not having been torn
|
||
to pieces by the Red mob a few years previously and strung up to the
|
||
lamp-posts?
|
||
|
||
One day these lamentable phenomena fired the late but unforgotten
|
||
Prefect P<>hner--a man whose unbending straightforwardness forced him to
|
||
hate all twisters and to hate them as only a man with an honest heart
|
||
can hate--to say: "In all my life I wished to be first a German and then
|
||
an official, and I never wanted to mix up with these creatures who, as
|
||
if they were kept officials, prostituted themselves before anybody who
|
||
could play lord and master for the time being."
|
||
|
||
It was a specially sad thing that gradually tens of thousands of honest
|
||
and loyal servants of the State did not only come under the power of
|
||
such people but were also slowly contaminated by their unprincipled
|
||
morals. Moreover, these kind of men pursued honest officials with a
|
||
furious hatred, degrading them and driving them from their positions,
|
||
and yet passed themselves off as 'national' by the aid of their lying
|
||
hypocrisy.
|
||
|
||
From officials of that kind we could expect no support, and only in very
|
||
rare instances was it given. Only by building up its own defence could
|
||
our movement become secure and attract that amount of public attention
|
||
and general respect which is given to those who can defend themselves
|
||
when attacked.
|
||
|
||
As an underlying principle in the internal development of the Storm
|
||
Detachment, we came to the decision that not only should it be perfectly
|
||
trained in bodily efficiency but that the men should be so instructed as
|
||
to make them indomitably convinced champions of the National Socialist
|
||
ideas and, finally, that they should be schooled to observe the
|
||
strictest discipline. This body was to have nothing to do with the
|
||
defence organizations of the bourgeois type and especially not with any
|
||
secret organization.
|
||
|
||
My reasons at that time for guarding strictly against letting the Storm
|
||
Detachment of the German National Socialist Labour Party appear as a
|
||
defence association were as follows:
|
||
|
||
On purely practical grounds it is impossible to build up a national
|
||
defence organization by means of private associations, unless the State
|
||
makes an enormous contribution to it. Whoever thinks otherwise
|
||
overestimates his own powers. Now it is entirely out of the question to
|
||
form organizations of any military value for a definite purpose on the
|
||
principle of so-called 'voluntary discipline'. Here the chief support
|
||
for enforcing orders, namely, the power of inflicting punishment, is
|
||
lacking. In the autumn, or rather in the spring, of 1919 it was still
|
||
possible to raise 'volunteer corps', not only because most of the men
|
||
who came forward at that time had been through the school of the old
|
||
Army, but also because the kind of duty imposed there constrained the
|
||
individual to absolute obedience at least for a definite period of time.
|
||
|
||
That spirit is entirely lacking in the volunteer defence organizations
|
||
of to-day. The more the defence association grows, the weaker its
|
||
discipline becomes and so much the less can one demand from the
|
||
individual members. Thus the whole organization will more and more
|
||
assume the character of the old non-political associations of war
|
||
comrades and veterans.
|
||
|
||
It is impossible to carry through a voluntary training in military
|
||
service for larger masses unless one is assured absolute power of
|
||
command. There will always be few men who will voluntarily and
|
||
spontaneously submit to that kind of obedience which is considered
|
||
natural and necessary in the Army.
|
||
|
||
Moreover, a proper system of military training cannot be developed where
|
||
there are such ridiculously scanty means as those at the disposal of the
|
||
defence associations. The principal task of such an institution must be
|
||
to impart the best and most reliable kind of instruction. Eight years
|
||
have passed since the end of the War, and during that time none of our
|
||
German youth, at an age when formerly they would have had to do military
|
||
service, have received any systematic training at all. The aim of a
|
||
defence association cannot be to enlist here and now all those who have
|
||
already received a military training; for in that case it could be
|
||
reckoned with mathematical accuracy when the last member would leave the
|
||
association. Even the younger soldier from 1918 will no longer be fit
|
||
for front-line service twenty years later, and we are approaching that
|
||
state of things with a rapidity that gives cause for anxiety. Thus the
|
||
defence associations must assume more and more the aspect of the old
|
||
ex-service men's societies. But that cannot be the meaning and purpose
|
||
of an institution which calls itself, not an association of ex-service
|
||
men but a DEFENCE association, indicating by this title that it
|
||
considers its task to be, not only to preserve the tradition of the old
|
||
soldiers and hold them together but also to propagate the idea of
|
||
national defence and be able to carry this idea into practical effect,
|
||
which means the creation of a body of men who are fit and trained for
|
||
military defence.
|
||
|
||
But this implies that those elements will receive a military training
|
||
which up to now have received none. This is something that in practice
|
||
is impossible for the defence associations. Real soldiers cannot be made
|
||
by a training of one or two hours per week. In view of the enormously
|
||
increasing demands which modern warfare imposes on each individual
|
||
soldier to-day, a military service of two years is barely sufficient to
|
||
transform a raw recruit into a trained soldier. At the Front during the
|
||
War we all saw the fearful consequences which our young recruits had to
|
||
suffer from their lack of a thorough military training. Volunteer
|
||
formations which had been drilled for fifteen or twenty weeks under an
|
||
iron discipline and shown unlimited self-denial proved nevertheless to
|
||
be no better than cannon fodder at the Front. Only when distributed
|
||
among the ranks of the old and experienced soldiers could the young
|
||
recruits, who had been trained for four or six months, become useful
|
||
members of a regiment. Guided by the 'old men', they adapted themselves
|
||
gradually to their task.
|
||
|
||
In the light of all this, how hopeless must the attempt be to create a
|
||
body of fighting troops by a so-called training of one or two hours in
|
||
the week, without any definite power of command and without any
|
||
considerable means. In that way perhaps one could refresh military
|
||
training in old soldiers, but raw recruits cannot thus be transformed
|
||
into expert soldiers.
|
||
|
||
How such a proceeding produces utterly worthless results may also be
|
||
demonstrated by the fact that at the same time as these so-called
|
||
volunteer defence associations, with great effort and outcry and under
|
||
difficulties and lack of necessities, try to educate and train a few
|
||
thousand men of goodwill (the others need not be taken into account) for
|
||
purposes of national defence, the State teaches our young men democratic
|
||
and pacifist ideas and thus deprives millions and millions of their
|
||
national instincts, poisons their logical sense of patriotism and
|
||
gradually turns them into a herd of sheep who will patiently follow any
|
||
arbitrary command. Thus they render ridiculous all those attempts made
|
||
by the defence associations to inculcate their ideas in the minds of the
|
||
German youth.
|
||
|
||
Almost more important is the following consideration, which has always
|
||
made me take up a stand against all attempts at a so-called military
|
||
training on the basis of the volunteer associations.
|
||
|
||
Assuming that, in spite of all the difficulties just mentioned, a
|
||
defence association were successful in training a certain number of
|
||
Germans every year to be efficient soldiers, not only as regards their
|
||
mental outlook but also as regards bodily efficiency and the expert
|
||
handling of arms, the result must necessarily be null and void in a
|
||
State whose whole tendency makes it not only look upon such a defensive
|
||
formation as undesirable but even positively hate it, because such an
|
||
association would completely contradict the intimate aims of the
|
||
political leaders, who are the corrupters of this State.
|
||
|
||
But anyhow, such a result would be worthless under governments which
|
||
have demonstrated by their own acts that they do not lay the slightest
|
||
importance on the military power of the nation and are not disposed to
|
||
permit an appeal to that power only in case that it were necessary for
|
||
the protection of their own malignant existence.
|
||
|
||
And that is the state of affairs to-day. It is not ridiculous to think
|
||
of training some ten thousand men in the use of arms, and carry on that
|
||
training surreptitiously, when a few years previously the State, having
|
||
shamefully sacrificed eight-and-a-half million highly trained soldiers,
|
||
not merely did not require their services any more, but, as a mark of
|
||
gratitude for their sacrifices, held them up to public contumely. Shall
|
||
we train soldiers for a regime which besmirched and spat upon our most
|
||
glorious soldiers, tore the medals and badges from their breasts,
|
||
trampled on their flags and derided their achievements? Has the present
|
||
regime taken one step towards restoring the honour of the old army and
|
||
bringing those who destroyed and outraged it to answer for their deeds?
|
||
Not in the least. On the contrary, the people I have just referred to
|
||
may be seen enthroned in the highest positions under the State to-day.
|
||
And yet it was said at Leipzig: "Right goes with might." Since, however,
|
||
in our Republic to-day might is in the hands of the very men who
|
||
arranged for the Revolution, and since that Revolution represents a most
|
||
despicable act of high treason against the nation--yea, the vilest act
|
||
in German history--there can surely be no grounds for saying that might
|
||
of this character should be enhanced by the formation of a new young
|
||
army. It is against all sound reason.
|
||
|
||
The importance which this State attached, after the Revolution of 1918,
|
||
to the reinforcement of its position from the military point of view is
|
||
clearly and unmistakably demonstrated by its attitude towards the large
|
||
self-defence organizations which existed in that period. They were not
|
||
unwelcome as long as they were of use for the personal protection of the
|
||
miserable creatures cast up by the Revolution.
|
||
|
||
But the danger to these creatures seemed to disappear as the debasement
|
||
of our people gradually increased. As the existence of the defence
|
||
associations no longer implied a reinforcement of the national policy
|
||
they became superfluous. Hence every effort was made to disarm them and
|
||
suppress them wherever that was possible.
|
||
|
||
History records only a few examples of gratitude on the part of princes.
|
||
But there is not one patriot among the new bourgeoisie who can count on
|
||
the gratitude of revolutionary incendiaries and assassins, persons who
|
||
have enriched themselves from the public spoil and betrayed the nation.
|
||
In examining the problem as to the wisdom of forming these defence
|
||
associations I have never ceased to ask: 'For whom shall I train these
|
||
young men? For what purpose will they be employed when they will have to
|
||
be called out?' The answer to these questions lays down at the same time
|
||
the best rule for us to follow.
|
||
|
||
If the present State should one day have to call upon trained troops of
|
||
this kind it would never be for the purpose of defending the interests
|
||
of the nation VIS-<2D>-VIS those of the stranger but rather to protect the
|
||
oppressors of the nation inside the country against the danger of a
|
||
general outbreak of wrath on the part of a nation which has been
|
||
deceived and betrayed and whose interests have been bartered away.
|
||
|
||
For this reason it was decided that the Storm Detachment of the German
|
||
National Socialist Labour Party ought not to be in the nature of a
|
||
military organization. It had to be an instrument of protection and
|
||
education for the National Socialist Movement and its duties should be
|
||
in quite a different sphere from that of the military defence
|
||
association.
|
||
|
||
And, of course, the Storm Detachment should not be in the nature of a
|
||
secret organization. Secret organizations are established only for
|
||
purposes that are against the law. Therewith the purpose of such an
|
||
organization is limited by its very nature. Considering the loquacious
|
||
propensities of the German people, it is not possible to build up any
|
||
vast organization, keeping it secret at the same time and cloaking its
|
||
purpose. Every attempt of that kind is destined to turn out absolutely
|
||
futile. It is not merely that our police officials to-day have at their
|
||
disposal a staff of eaves-droppers and other such rabble who are ready
|
||
to play traitor, like Judas, for thirty pieces of silver and will betray
|
||
whatever secrets they can discover and will invent what they would like
|
||
to reveal. In order to forestall such eventualities, it is never
|
||
possible to bind one's own followers to the silence that is necessary.
|
||
Only small groups can become really secret societies, and that only
|
||
after long years of filtration. But the very smallness of such groups
|
||
would deprive them of all value for the National Socialist Movement.
|
||
What we needed then and need now is not one or two hundred dare-devil
|
||
conspirators but a hundred thousand devoted champions of our
|
||
WELTANSCHAUUNG. The work must not be done through secret conventicles
|
||
but through formidable mass demonstrations in public. Dagger and pistol
|
||
and poison-vial cannot clear the way for the progress of the movement.
|
||
That can be done only by winning over the man in the street. We must
|
||
overthrow Marxism, so that for the future National Socialism will be
|
||
master of the street, just as it will one day become master of the
|
||
State.
|
||
|
||
There is another danger connected with secret societies. It lies in the
|
||
fact that their members often completely misunderstand the greatness of
|
||
the task in hand and are apt to believe that a favourable destiny can be
|
||
assured for the nation all at once by means of a single murder. Such a
|
||
belief may find historical justification by appealing to cases where a
|
||
nation had been suffering under the tyranny of some oppressor who at the
|
||
same time was a man of genius and whose extraordinary personality
|
||
guaranteed the internal solidity of his position and enabled him to
|
||
maintain his fearful oppression. In such cases a man may suddenly arise
|
||
from the ranks of the people who is ready to sacrifice himself and
|
||
plunge the deadly steel into the heart of the hated individual. In order
|
||
to look upon such a deed as abhorrent one must have the republican
|
||
mentality of that petty CANAILLE who are conscious of their own crime.
|
||
But the greatest champion (Note 20) of liberty that the German people have
|
||
ever had has glorified such a deed in WILLIAM TELL.
|
||
|
||
[Note 20. Schiller, who wrote the famous drama of WILLIAM TELL.]
|
||
|
||
During 1919 and 1920 there was danger that the members of secret
|
||
organizations, under the influence of great historical examples and
|
||
overcome by the immensity of the nation's misfortunes, might attempt to
|
||
wreak vengeance on the destroyers of their country, under the belief
|
||
that this would end the miseries of the people. All such attempts were
|
||
sheer folly, for the reason that the Marxist triumph was not due to the
|
||
superior genius of one remarkable person but rather to immeasurable
|
||
incompetence and cowardly shirking on the part of the bourgeoisie. The
|
||
hardest criticism that can be uttered against our bourgeoisie is simply
|
||
to state the fact that it submitted to the Revolution, even though the
|
||
Revolution did not produce one single man of eminent worth. One can
|
||
always understand how it was possible to capitulate before a
|
||
Robespierre, a Danton, or a Marat; but it was utterly scandalous to go
|
||
down on all fours before the withered Scheidemann, the obese Herr
|
||
Erzberger, Frederick Ebert, and the innumerable other political pigmies
|
||
of the Revolution. There was not a single man of parts in whom one could
|
||
see the revolutionary man of genius. Therein lay the country's
|
||
misfortune; for they were only revolutionary bugs, Spartacists wholesale
|
||
and retail. To suppress one of them would be an act of no consequence.
|
||
The only result would be that another pair of bloodsuckers, equally fat
|
||
and thirsty, would be ready to take his place.
|
||
|
||
During those years we had to take up a determined stand against an idea
|
||
which owed its origin and foundation to historical episodes that were
|
||
really great, but to which our own despicable epoch did not bear the
|
||
slightest similarity.
|
||
|
||
The same reply may be given when there is question of putting somebody
|
||
'on the spot' who has acted as a traitor to his country. It would be
|
||
ridiculous and illogical to shoot a poor wretch (Note 21) who had betrayed
|
||
the position of a howitzer to the enemy while the highest positions of the
|
||
government are occupied by a rabble who bartered away a whole empire,
|
||
who have on their consciences the deaths of two million men who were
|
||
sacrificed in vain, fellows who were responsible for the millions maimed
|
||
in the war and who make a thriving business out of the republican regime
|
||
without allowing their souls to be disturbed in any way. It would be
|
||
absurd to do away with small traitors in a State whose government has
|
||
absolved the great traitors from all punishment. For it might easily
|
||
happen that one day an honest idealist, who, out of love for his
|
||
country, had removed from circulation some miserable informer that had
|
||
given information about secret stores of arms might now be called to
|
||
answer for his act before the chief traitors of the country. And there
|
||
is still an important question: Shall some small traitorous creature be
|
||
suppressed by another small traitor, or by an idealist? In the former
|
||
case the result would be doubtful and the deed would almost surely be
|
||
revealed later on. In the second case a petty rascal is put out of the
|
||
way and the life of an idealist who may be irreplaceable is in jeopardy.
|
||
|
||
[Note 21. The reference here is to those who gave information to the
|
||
Allied Commissions about hidden stores of arms in Germany.]
|
||
|
||
For myself, I believe that small thieves should not be hanged while big
|
||
thieves are allowed to go free. One day a national tribunal will have to
|
||
judge and sentence some tens of thousands of organizers who were
|
||
responsible for the criminal November betrayal and all the consequences
|
||
that followed on it. Such an example will teach the necessary lesson,
|
||
once and for ever, to those paltry traitors who revealed to the enemy
|
||
the places where arms were hidden.
|
||
|
||
On the grounds of these considerations I steadfastly forbade all
|
||
participation in secret societies, and I took care that the Storm
|
||
Detachment should not assume such a character. During those years I kept
|
||
the National Socialist Movement away from those experiments which were
|
||
being undertaken by young Germans who for the most part were inspired
|
||
with a sublime idealism but who became the victims of their own deeds,
|
||
because they could not ameliorate the lot of their fatherland to the
|
||
slightest degree.
|
||
|
||
If then the Storm Detachment must not be either a military defence
|
||
organization or a secret society, the following conclusions must result:
|
||
|
||
1. Its training must not be organized from the military standpoint but
|
||
from the standpoint of what is most practical for party purposes. Seeing
|
||
that its members must undergo a good physical training, the place of
|
||
chief importance must not be given to military drill but rather to the
|
||
practice of sports. I have always considered boxing and ju-jitsu more
|
||
important than some kind of bad, because mediocre, training in
|
||
rifle-shooting. If the German nation were presented with a body of young
|
||
men who had been perfectly trained in athletic sports, who were imbued
|
||
with an ardent love for their country and a readiness to take the
|
||
initiative in a fight, then the national State could make an army out of
|
||
that body within less than two years if it were necessary, provided the
|
||
cadres already existed. In the actual state of affairs only the
|
||
REICHSWEHR could furnish the cadres and not a defence organization that
|
||
was neither one thing nor the other. Bodily efficiency would develop in
|
||
the individual a conviction of his superiority and would give him that
|
||
confidence which is always based only on the consciousness of one's own
|
||
powers. They must also develop that athletic agility which can be
|
||
employed as a defensive weapon in the service of the Movement.
|
||
|
||
2. In order to safeguard the Storm Detachment against any tendency
|
||
towards secrecy, not only must the uniform be such that it can
|
||
immediately be recognized by everybody, but the large number of its
|
||
effectives show the direction in which the Movement is going and which
|
||
must be known to the whole public. The members of the Storm Detachment
|
||
must not hold secret gatherings but must march in the open and thus, by
|
||
their actions, put an end to all legends about a secret organization. In
|
||
order to keep them away from all temptations towards finding an outlet
|
||
for their activities in small conspiracies, from the very beginning we
|
||
had to inculcate in their minds the great idea of the Movement and
|
||
educate them so thoroughly to the task of defending this idea that their
|
||
horizon became enlarged and that the individual no longer considered it
|
||
his mission to remove from circulation some rascal or other, whether big
|
||
or small, but to devote himself entirely to the task of bringing about
|
||
the establishment of a new National Socialist People's State. In this
|
||
way the struggle against the present State was placed on a higher plane
|
||
than that of petty revenge and small conspiracies. It was elevated to
|
||
the level of a spiritual struggle on behalf of a WELTANSCHAUUNG, for
|
||
the destruction of Marxism in all its shapes and forms.
|
||
|
||
3. The form of organization adopted for the Storm Detachment, as well as
|
||
its uniform and equipment, had to follow different models from those of
|
||
the old Army. They had to be specially suited to the requirements of the
|
||
task that was assigned to the Storm Detachment.
|
||
|
||
These were the ideas I followed in 1920 and 1921. I endeavoured to
|
||
instil them gradually into the members of the young organization. And
|
||
the result was that by the midsummer of 1922 we had a goodly number of
|
||
formations which consisted of a hundred men each. By the late autumn of
|
||
that year these formations received their distinctive uniforms. There
|
||
were three events which turned out to be of supreme importance for the
|
||
subsequent development of the Storm Detachment.
|
||
|
||
1. The great mass demonstration against the Law for the Protection of
|
||
the Republic. This demonstration was held in the late summer of 1922 on
|
||
the K<>NIGS-PLATZ in Munich, by all the patriotic societies. The National
|
||
Socialist Movement also participated in it. The march-past of our party,
|
||
in serried ranks, was led by six Munich companies of a hundred men each,
|
||
followed by the political sections of the Party. Two bands marched with
|
||
us and about fifteen flags were carried. When the National Socialists
|
||
arrived at the great square it was already half full, but no flag was
|
||
flying. Our entry aroused unbounded enthusiasm. I myself had the honour
|
||
of being one of the speakers who addressed that mass of about sixty
|
||
thousand people.
|
||
|
||
The demonstration was an overwhelming success; especially because it was
|
||
proved for the first time that nationalist Munich could march on the
|
||
streets, in spite of all threats from the Reds. Members of the
|
||
organization for the defence of the Red Republic endeavoured to hinder
|
||
the marching columns by their terrorist activities, but they were
|
||
scattered by the companies of the Storm Detachment within a few minutes
|
||
and sent off with bleeding skulls. The National Socialist Movement had
|
||
then shown for the first time that in future it was determined to
|
||
exercise the right to march on the streets and thus take this monopoly
|
||
away from the international traitors and enemies of the country.
|
||
|
||
The result of that day was an incontestable proof that our ideas for the
|
||
creation of the Storm Detachment were right, both from the psychological
|
||
viewpoint and as to the manner in which this body was organized.
|
||
|
||
On the basis of this success the enlistment progressed so rapidly that
|
||
within a few weeks the number of Munich companies of a hundred men each
|
||
became doubled.
|
||
|
||
2. The expedition to Coburg in October 1922.
|
||
|
||
Certain People's Societies had decided to hold a German Day at Coburg. I
|
||
was invited to take part, with the intimation that they wished me to
|
||
bring a following along. This invitation, which I received at eleven
|
||
o'clock in the morning, arrived just in time. Within an hour the
|
||
arrangements for our participation in the German Congress were ready. I
|
||
picked eight hundred men of the Storm Detachment to accompany me. These
|
||
were divided into about fourteen companies and had to be brought by
|
||
special train from Munich to Coburg, which had just voted by plebiscite
|
||
to be annexed to Bavaria. Corresponding orders were given to other
|
||
groups of the National Socialist Storm Detachment which had meanwhile
|
||
been formed in various other localities.
|
||
|
||
This was the first time that such a special train ran in Germany. At all
|
||
the places where the new members of the Storm Detachment joined us our
|
||
train caused a sensation. Many of the people had never seen our flag.
|
||
And it made a very great impression.
|
||
|
||
As we arrived at the station in Coburg we were received by a deputation
|
||
of the organizing committee of the German Day. They announced that it
|
||
had been 'arranged' at the orders of local trades unions--that is to
|
||
say, the Independent and Communist Parties--that we should not enter the
|
||
town with our flags unfurled and our band playing (we had a band
|
||
consisting of forty-two musicians with us) and that we should not march
|
||
with closed ranks.
|
||
|
||
I immediately rejected these unmilitary conditions and did not fail to
|
||
declare before the gentlemen who had arranged this 'day' how astonished
|
||
I was at the idea of their negotiating with such people and coming to an
|
||
agreement with them. Then I announced that the Storm Troops would
|
||
immediately march into the town in company formation, with our flags
|
||
flying and the band playing.
|
||
|
||
And that is what happened.
|
||
|
||
As we came out into the station yard we were met by a growling and
|
||
yelling mob of several thousand, that shouted at us: 'Assassins',
|
||
'Bandits', 'Robbers', 'Criminals'. These were the choice names which
|
||
these exemplary founders of the German Republic showered on us. The
|
||
young Storm Detachment gave a model example of order. The companies fell
|
||
into formation on the square in front of the station and at first took
|
||
no notice of the insults hurled at them by the mob. The police were
|
||
anxious. They did not pilot us to the quarters assigned to us on the
|
||
outskirts of Coburg, a city quite unknown to us, but to the Hofbr<62>uhaus
|
||
Keller in the centre of the town. Right and left of our march the tumult
|
||
raised by the accompanying mob steadily increased. Scarcely had the last
|
||
company entered the courtyard of the Hofbr<62>uhaus when the huge mass made
|
||
a rush to get in after them, shouting madly. In order to prevent this,
|
||
the police closed the gates. Seeing the position was untenable I called
|
||
the Storm Detachment to attention and then asked the police to open the
|
||
gates immediately. After a good deal of hesitation, they consented.
|
||
|
||
We now marched back along the same route as we had come, in the
|
||
direction of our quarters, and there we had to make a stand against the
|
||
crowd. As their cries and yells all along the route had failed to
|
||
disturb the equanimity of our companies, the champions of true
|
||
Socialism, Equality, and Fraternity now took to throwing stones. That
|
||
brought our patience to an end. For ten minutes long, blows fell right
|
||
and left, like a devastating shower of hail. Fifteen minutes later there
|
||
were no more Reds to be seen in the street.
|
||
|
||
The collisions which took place when the night came on were more
|
||
serious. Patrols of the Storm Detachment had discovered National
|
||
Socialists who had been attacked singly and were in an atrocious state.
|
||
Thereupon we made short work of the opponents. By the following morning
|
||
the Red terror, under which Coburg had been suffering for years, was
|
||
definitely smashed.
|
||
|
||
Adopting the typically Marxist and Jewish method of spreading
|
||
falsehoods, leaflets were distributed by hand on the streets, bearing
|
||
the caption: "Comrades and Comradesses of the International
|
||
Proletariat." These leaflets were meant to arouse the wrath of the
|
||
populace. Twisting the facts completely around, they declared that our
|
||
'bands of assasins' had commenced 'a war of extermination against the
|
||
peaceful workers of Coburg'. At half-past one that day there was to be a
|
||
'great popular demonstration', at which it was hoped that the workers of
|
||
the whole district would turn up. I was determined finally to crush this
|
||
Red terror and so I summoned the Storm Detachment to meet at midday.
|
||
Their number had now increased to 1,500. I decided to march with these
|
||
men to the Coburg Festival and to cross the big square where the Red
|
||
demonstration was to take place. I wanted to see if they would attempt
|
||
to assault us again. When we entered the square we found that instead of
|
||
the ten thousand that had been advertised, there were only a few hundred
|
||
people present. As we approached they remained silent for the most part,
|
||
and some ran away. Only at certain points along the route some bodies of
|
||
Reds, who had arrived from outside the city and had not yet come to know
|
||
us, attempted to start a row. But a few fisticuffs put them to flight.
|
||
And now one could see how the population, which had for such a long time
|
||
been so wretchedly intimidated, slowly woke up and recovered their
|
||
courage. They welcomed us openly, and in the evening, on our return
|
||
march, spontaneous shouts of jubilation broke out at several points
|
||
along the route.
|
||
|
||
At the station the railway employees informed us all of a sudden that
|
||
our train would not move. Thereupon I had some of the ringleaders told
|
||
that if this were the case I would have all the Red Party heroes
|
||
arrested that fell into our hands, that we would drive the train
|
||
ourselves, but that we would take away with us, in the locomotive and
|
||
tender and in some of the carriages, a few dozen members of this
|
||
brotherhood of international solidarity. I did not omit to let those
|
||
gentry know that if we had to conduct the train the journey would
|
||
undoubtedly be a very risky adventure and that we might all break our
|
||
necks. It would be a consolation, however, to know that we should not go
|
||
to Eternity alone, but in equality and fraternity with the Red gentry.
|
||
|
||
Thereupon the train departed punctually and we arrived next morning in
|
||
Munich safe and sound.
|
||
|
||
Thus at Coburg, for the first time since 1914, the equality of all
|
||
citizens before the law was re-established. For even if some coxcomb of
|
||
a higher official should assert to-day that the State protects the lives
|
||
of its citizens, at least in those days it was not so. For at that time
|
||
the citizens had to defend themselves against the representatives of the
|
||
present State.
|
||
|
||
At first it was not possible fully to estimate the importance of the
|
||
consequences which resulted from that day. The victorious Storm Troops
|
||
had their confidence in themselves considerably reinforced and also
|
||
their faith in the sagacity of their leaders. Our contemporaries began
|
||
to pay us special attention and for the first time many recognized the
|
||
National Socialist Movement as an organization that in all probability
|
||
was destined to bring the Marxist folly to a deserving end.
|
||
|
||
Only the democrats lamented the fact that we had not the complaisance to
|
||
allow our skulls to be cracked and that we had dared, in a democratic
|
||
Republic, to hit back with fists and sticks at a brutal assault, rather
|
||
than with pacifist chants.
|
||
|
||
Generally speaking, the bourgeois Press was partly distressed and partly
|
||
vulgar, as always. Only a few decent newspapers expressed their
|
||
satisfaction that at least in one locality the Marxist street bullies
|
||
had been effectively dealt with.
|
||
|
||
And in Coburg itself at least a part of the Marxist workers who must be
|
||
looked upon as misled, learned from the blows of National Socialist
|
||
fists that these workers were also fighting for ideals, because
|
||
experience teaches that the human being fights only for something in
|
||
which he believes and which he loves.
|
||
|
||
The Storm Detachment itself benefited most from the Coburg events. It
|
||
grew so quickly in numbers that at the Party Congress in January 1923
|
||
six thousand men participated in the ceremony of consecrating the flags
|
||
and the first companies were fully clad in their new uniform.
|
||
|
||
Our experience in Coburg proved how essential it is to introduce one
|
||
distinctive uniform for the Storm Detachment, not only for the purpose
|
||
of strengthening the ESPRIT DE CORPS but also to avoid confusion and the
|
||
danger of not recognizing the opponent in a squabble. Up to that time
|
||
they had merely worn the armlet, but now the tunic and the well-known
|
||
cap were added.
|
||
|
||
But the Coburg experience had also another important result. We now
|
||
determined to break the Red Terror in all those localities where for
|
||
many years it had prevented men of other views from holding their
|
||
meetings. We were determined to restore the right of free assembly. From
|
||
that time onwards we brought our battalions together in such places and
|
||
little by little the red citadels of Bavaria, one after another, fell
|
||
before the National Socialist propaganda. The Storm Troops became more
|
||
and more adept at their job. They increasingly lost all semblance of an
|
||
aimless and lifeless defence movement and came out into the light as an
|
||
active militant organization, fighting for the establishment of a new
|
||
German State.
|
||
|
||
This logical development continued until March 1923. Then an event
|
||
occurred which made me divert the Movement from the course hitherto
|
||
followed and introduce some changes in its outer formation.
|
||
|
||
In the first months of 1923 the French occupied the Ruhr district. The
|
||
consequence of this was of great importance in the development of the
|
||
Storm Detachment.
|
||
|
||
It is not yet possible, nor would it be in the interest of the nation,
|
||
to write or speak openly and freely on the subject. I shall speak of it
|
||
only as far as the matter has been dealt with in public discussions and
|
||
thus brought to the knowledge of everybody.
|
||
|
||
The occupation of the Ruhr district, which did not come as a surprise to
|
||
us, gave grounds for hoping that Germany would at last abandon its
|
||
cowardly policy of submission and therewith give the defensive
|
||
associations a definite task to fulfil. The Storm Detachment also, which
|
||
now numbered several thousand of robust and vigorous young men, should
|
||
not be excluded from this national service. During the spring and summer
|
||
of 1923 it was transformed into a fighting military organization. It is
|
||
to this reorganization that we must in great part attribute the later
|
||
developments that took place during 1923, in so far as it affected our
|
||
Movement.
|
||
|
||
Elsewhere I shall deal in broad outline with the development of events
|
||
in 1923. Here I wish only to state that the transformation of the Storm
|
||
Detachment at that time must have been detrimental to the interests of
|
||
the Movement if the conditions that had motivated the change were not to
|
||
be carried into effect, namely, the adoption of a policy of active
|
||
resistance against France.
|
||
|
||
The events which took place at the close of 1923, terrible as they may
|
||
appear at first sight, were almost a necessity if looked at from a
|
||
higher standpoint; because, in view of the attitude taken by the
|
||
Government of the German REICH, conversion of the Storm Troops into a
|
||
military force would be meaningless and thus a transformation which
|
||
would also be harmful to the Movement was ended at one stroke. At the
|
||
same time it was made possible for us to reconstruct at the point where
|
||
we had been diverted from the proper course.
|
||
|
||
In the year 1925 the German National Socialist Labour Party was
|
||
re-founded and had to organize and train its Storm Detachment once again
|
||
according to the principles I have laid down. It must return to the
|
||
original idea and once more it must consider its most essential task to
|
||
function as the instrument of defence and reinforcement in the spiritual
|
||
struggle to establish the ideals of the Movement.
|
||
|
||
The Storm Detachment must not be allowed to sink to the level of
|
||
something in the nature of a defence organization or a secret society.
|
||
Steps must be taken rather to make it a vanguard of 100,000 men in the
|
||
struggle for the National Socialist ideal which is based on the profound
|
||
principle of a People's State.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
CHAPTER X
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
THE MASK OF FEDERALISM
|
||
|
||
|
||
In the winter of 1919, and still more in the spring and summer of 1920,
|
||
the young Party felt bound to take up a definite stand on a question
|
||
which already had become quite serious during the War. In the first
|
||
volume of this book I have briefly recorded certain facts which I had
|
||
personally witnessed and which foreboded the break-up of Germany. In
|
||
describing these facts I made reference to the special nature of the
|
||
propaganda which was directed by the English as well as the French
|
||
towards reopening the breach that had existed between North and South in
|
||
Germany. In the spring of 1915 there appeared the first of a series of
|
||
leaflets which was systematically followed up and the aim of which was
|
||
to arouse feeling against Prussia as being solely responsible for the
|
||
war. Up to 1916 this system had been developed and perfected in a
|
||
cunning and shameless manner. Appealing to the basest of human
|
||
instincts, this propaganda endeavoured to arouse the wrath of the South
|
||
Germans against the North Germans and after a short time it bore fruit.
|
||
Persons who were then in high positions under the Government and in the
|
||
Army, especially those attached to headquarters in the Bavarian Army,
|
||
merited the just reproof of having blindly neglected their duty and
|
||
failed to take the necessary steps to counter such propaganda. But
|
||
nothing was done. On the contrary, in some quarters it did not appear to
|
||
be quite unwelcome and probably they were short-sighted enough to think
|
||
that such propaganda might help along the development of unification in
|
||
Germany but even that it might automatically bring about consolidation
|
||
of the federative forces. Scarcely ever in history was such a wicked
|
||
neglect more wickedly avenged. The weakening of Prussia, which they
|
||
believed would result from this propaganda, affected the whole of
|
||
Germany. It resulted in hastening the collapse which not only wrecked
|
||
Germany as a whole but even more particularly the federal states.
|
||
|
||
In that town where the artificially created hatred against Prussia raged
|
||
most violently the revolt against the reigning House was the beginning
|
||
of the Revolution.
|
||
|
||
It would be a mistake to think that the enemy propaganda was exclusively
|
||
responsible for creating an anti-Prussian feeling and that there were no
|
||
reasons which might excuse the people for having listened to this
|
||
propaganda. The incredible fashion in which the national economic
|
||
interests were organized during the War, the absolutely crazy system of
|
||
centralization which made the whole REICH its ward and exploited the
|
||
REICH, furnished the principal grounds for the growth of that
|
||
anti-Prussian feeling. The average citizen looked upon the companies for
|
||
the placing of war contracts, all of which had their headquarters in
|
||
Berlin, as identical with Berlin and Berlin itself as identical with
|
||
Prussia. The average citizen did not know that the organization of these
|
||
robber companies, which were called War Companies, was not in the hands
|
||
of Berlin or Prussia and not even in German hands at all. People
|
||
recognized only the gross irregularities and the continual encroachments
|
||
of that hated institution in the Metropolis of the REICH and directed
|
||
their anger towards Berlin and Prussia, all the more because in certain
|
||
quarters (the Bavarian Government) nothing was done to correct this
|
||
attitude, but it was even welcomed with silent rubbing of hands.
|
||
|
||
The Jew was far too shrewd not to understand that the infamous campaign
|
||
which he had organized, under the cloak of War Companies, for plundering
|
||
the German nation would and must eventually arouse opposition. As long
|
||
as that opposition did not spring directly at his own throat he had no
|
||
reason to be afraid. Hence he decided that the best way of forestalling
|
||
an outbreak on the part of the enraged and desperate masses would be to
|
||
inflame their wrath and at the same time give it another outlet.
|
||
|
||
Let Bavaria quarrel as much as it liked with Prussia and Prussia with
|
||
Bavaria. The more, the merrier. This bitter strife between the two
|
||
states assured peace to the Jew. Thus public attention was completely
|
||
diverted from the international maggot in the body of the nation;
|
||
indeed, he seemed to have been forgotten. Then when there came a danger
|
||
that level-headed people, of whom there are many to be found also in
|
||
Bavaria, would advise a little more reserve and a more judicious
|
||
evaluation of things, thus calming the rage against Prussia, all the Jew
|
||
had to do in Berlin was to stage a new provocation and await results.
|
||
Every time that was done all those who had profiteered out of the
|
||
conflict between North and South filled their lungs and again fanned the
|
||
flame of indignation until it became a blaze.
|
||
|
||
It was a shrewd and expert manoeuvre on the part of the Jew, to set the
|
||
different branches of the German people quarrelling with one another, so
|
||
that their attention would be turned away from himself and he could
|
||
plunder them all the more completely.
|
||
|
||
Then came the Revolution.
|
||
|
||
Until the year 1918, or rather until the November of that year, the
|
||
average German citizen, particularly the less educated lower
|
||
middle-class and the workers, did not rightly understand what was
|
||
happening and did not realize what must be the inevitable consequences,
|
||
especially for Bavaria, of this internecine strife between the branches
|
||
of the German people; but at least those sections which called
|
||
themselves 'National' ought to have clearly perceived these consequences
|
||
on the day that the Revolution broke out. For the moment the COUP D'<27>TAT
|
||
had succeeded, the leader and organizer of the Revolution in Bavaria put
|
||
himself forward as the defender of 'Bavarian' interests. The
|
||
international Jew, Kurt Eisner, began to play off Bavaria against
|
||
Prussia. This Oriental was just about the last person in the world that
|
||
could be pointed to as the logical defender of Bavarian interests. In
|
||
his trade as newspaper reporter he had wandered from place to place all
|
||
over Germany and to him it was a matter of sheer indifference whether
|
||
Bavaria or any other particular part of God's whole world continued to
|
||
exist.
|
||
|
||
In deliberately giving the revolutionary rising in Bavaria the character
|
||
of an offensive against Prussia, Kurt Eisner was not acting in the
|
||
slightest degree from the standpoint of Bavarian interests, but merely
|
||
as the commissioned representative of Jewry. He exploited existing
|
||
instincts and antipathies in Bavaria as a means which would help to make
|
||
the dismemberment of Germany all the more easy. When once dismembered,
|
||
the REICH would fall an easy prey to Bolshevism.
|
||
|
||
The tactics employed by him were continued for a time after his death.
|
||
The Marxists, who had always derided and exploited the individual German
|
||
states and their princes, now suddenly appealed, as an 'Independent
|
||
Party' to those sentiments and instincts which had their strongest roots
|
||
in the families of the reigning princes and the individual states.
|
||
|
||
The fight waged by the Bavarian Soviet Republic against the military
|
||
contingents that were sent to free Bavaria from its grasp was
|
||
represented by the Marxist propagandists as first of all the 'Struggle
|
||
of the Bavarian Worker' against 'Prussian Militarism.' This explains why
|
||
it was that the suppression of the Soviet Republic in Munich did not
|
||
have the same effect there as in the other German districts. Instead of
|
||
recalling the masses to a sense of reason, it led to increased
|
||
bitterness and anger against Prussia.
|
||
|
||
The art of the Bolshevik agitators, in representing the suppression of
|
||
the Bavarian Soviet Republic as a victory of 'Prussian Militarism' over
|
||
the 'Anti-militarists' and 'Anti-Prussian' people of Bavaria, bore rich
|
||
fruit. Whereas on the occasion of the elections to the Bavarian
|
||
Legislative Diet, Kurt Eisner did not have ten thousand followers in
|
||
Munich and the Communist party less than three thousand, after the fall
|
||
of the Bavarian Republic the votes given to the two parties together
|
||
amounted to nearly one hundred thousand.
|
||
|
||
It was then that I personally began to combat that crazy incitement of
|
||
some branches of the German people against other branches.
|
||
|
||
I believe that never in my life did I undertake a more unpopular task
|
||
than I did when I took my stand against the anti-Prussian incitement.
|
||
During the Soviet regime in Munich great public meetings were held at
|
||
which hatred against the rest of Germany, but particularly against
|
||
Prussia, was roused up to such a pitch that a North German would have
|
||
risked his life in attending one of those meetings. These meetings often
|
||
ended in wild shouts: "Away from Prussia", "Down with the Prussians",
|
||
"War against Prussia", and so on. This feeling was openly expressed in
|
||
the Reichstag by a particularly brilliant defender of Bavarian sovereign
|
||
rights when he said: "Rather die as a Bavarian than rot as a Prussian".
|
||
|
||
One should have attended some of the meetings held at that time in order
|
||
to understand what it meant for one when, for the first time and
|
||
surrounded by only a handful of friends, I raised my voice against this
|
||
folly at a meeting held in the Munich L<>wenbr<62>u Keller. Some of my War
|
||
comrades stood by me then. And it is easy to imagine how we felt when
|
||
that raging crowd, which had lost all control of its reason, roared at
|
||
us and threatened to kill us. During the time that we were fighting for
|
||
the country the same crowd were for the most part safely ensconced in
|
||
the rear positions or were peacefully circulating at home as deserters
|
||
and shirkers. It is true that that scene turned out to be of advantage
|
||
to me. My small band of comrades felt for the first time absolutely
|
||
united with me and readily swore to stick by me through life and death.
|
||
|
||
These conflicts, which were constantly repeated in 1919, seemed to
|
||
become more violent soon after the beginning of 1920. There were
|
||
meetings--I remember especially one in the Wagner Hall in the
|
||
Sonnenstrasse in Munich--during the course of which my group, now grown
|
||
much larger, had to defend themselves against assaults of the most
|
||
violent character. It happened more than once that dozens of my
|
||
followers were mishandled, thrown to the floor and stamped upon by the
|
||
attackers and were finally thrown out of the hall more dead than alive.
|
||
|
||
The struggle which I had undertaken, first by myself alone and
|
||
afterwards with the support of my war comrades, was now continued by the
|
||
young movement, I might say almost as a sacred mission.
|
||
|
||
I am proud of being able to say to-day that we--depending almost
|
||
exclusively on our followers in Bavaria--were responsible for putting an
|
||
end, slowly but surely, to the coalition of folly and treason. I say
|
||
folly and treason because, although convinced that the masses who joined
|
||
in it meant well but were stupid, I cannot attribute such simplicity as
|
||
an extenuating circumstance in the case of the organizers and their
|
||
abetters. I then looked upon them, and still look upon them to-day, as
|
||
traitors in the payment of France. In one case, that of Dorten, history
|
||
has already pronounced its judgment.
|
||
|
||
The situation became specially dangerous at that time by reason of the
|
||
fact that they were very astute in their ability to cloak their real
|
||
tendencies, by insisting primarily on their federative intentions and
|
||
claiming that those were the sole motives of the agitation. Of course it
|
||
is quite obvious that the agitation against Prussia had nothing to do
|
||
with federalism. Surely 'Federal Activities' is not the phrase with
|
||
which to describe an effort to dissolve and dismember another federal
|
||
state. For an honest federalist, for whom the formula used by Bismarck
|
||
to define his idea of the REICH is not a counterfeit phrase, could not
|
||
in the same breath express the desire to cut off portions of the
|
||
Prussian State, which was created or at least completed by Bismarck. Nor
|
||
could he publicly support such a separatist attempt.
|
||
|
||
What an outcry would be raised in Munich if some prussian conservative
|
||
party declared itself in favour of detaching Franconia from Bavaria or
|
||
took public action in demanding and promoting such a separatist policy.
|
||
Nevertheless, one can only have sympathy for all those real and honest
|
||
federalists who did not see through this infamous swindle, for they were
|
||
its principal victims. By distorting the federalist idea in such a way
|
||
its own champions prepared its grave. One cannot make propaganda for a
|
||
federalist configuration of the REICH by debasing and abusing and
|
||
besmirching the essential element of such a political structure, namely
|
||
Prussia, and thus making such a Confederation impossible, if it ever had
|
||
been possible. It is all the more incredible by reason of the fact that
|
||
the fight carried on by those so-called federalists was directed against
|
||
that section of the Prussian people which was the last that could be
|
||
looked upon as connected with the November democracy. For the abuse and
|
||
attacks of these so-called federalists were not levelled against the
|
||
fathers of the Weimar Constitution--the majority of whom were South
|
||
Germans or Jews--but against those who represented the old conservative
|
||
Prussia, which was the antipodes of the Weimar Constitution. The fact
|
||
that the directors of this campaign were careful not to touch the Jews
|
||
is not to be wondered at and perhaps gives the key to the whole riddle.
|
||
|
||
Before the Revolution the Jew was successful in distracting attention
|
||
from himself and his War Companies by inciting the masses, and
|
||
especially the Bavarians, against Prussia. Similarly he felt obliged,
|
||
after the Revolution, to find some way of camouflaging his new plunder
|
||
campaign which was nine or ten times greater. And again he succeeded, in
|
||
this case by provoking the so-called 'national' elements against one
|
||
another: the conservative Bavarians against the Prussians, who were just
|
||
as conservative. He acted again with extreme cunning, inasmuch as he who
|
||
held the reins of Prussia's destiny in his hands provoked such crude and
|
||
tactless aggressions that again and again they set the blood boiling in
|
||
those who were being continually duped. Never against the Jew, however,
|
||
but always the German against his own brother. The Bavarian did not see
|
||
the Berlin of four million industrious and efficient working people, but
|
||
only the lazy and decadent Berlin which is to be found in the worst
|
||
quarters of the West End. And his antipathy was not directed against
|
||
this West End of Berlin but against the 'Prussian' city.
|
||
|
||
In many cases it tempted one to despair.
|
||
|
||
The ability which the Jew has displayed in turning public attention away
|
||
from himself and giving it another direction may be studied also in what
|
||
is happening to-day.
|
||
|
||
In 1918 there was nothing like an organized anti-Semitic feeling. I
|
||
still remember the difficulties we encountered the moment we mentioned
|
||
the Jew. We were either confronted with dumb-struck faces or else a
|
||
lively and hefty antagonism. The efforts we made at the time to point
|
||
out the real enemy to the public seemed to be doomed to failure. But
|
||
then things began to change for the better, though only very slowly. The
|
||
'League for Defence and Offence' was defectively organized but at least
|
||
it had the great merit of opening up the Jewish question once again. In
|
||
the winter of 1918-1919 a kind of anti-semitism began slowly to take
|
||
root. Later on the National Socialist Movement presented the Jewish
|
||
problem in a new light. Taking the question beyond the restricted
|
||
circles of the upper classes and small bourgeoisie we succeeded in
|
||
transforming it into the driving motive of a great popular movement. But
|
||
the moment we were successful in placing this problem before the German
|
||
people in the light of an idea that would unite them in one struggle the
|
||
Jew reacted. He resorted to his old tactics. With amazing alacrity he
|
||
hurled the torch of discord into the patriotic movement and opened a
|
||
rift there. In bringing forward the ultramontane question and in the
|
||
mutual quarrels that it gave rise to between Catholicism and
|
||
Protestantism lay the sole possibility, as conditions then were, of
|
||
occupying public attention with other problems and thus ward off the
|
||
attack which had been concentrated against Jewry. The men who dragged
|
||
our people into this controversy can never make amends for the crime
|
||
they then committed against the nation. Anyhow, the Jew has attained the
|
||
ends he desired. Catholics and Protestants are fighting with one another
|
||
to their hearts' content, while the enemy of Aryan humanity and all
|
||
Christendom is laughing up his sleeve.
|
||
|
||
Once it was possible to occupy the attention of the public for several
|
||
years with the struggle between federalism and unification, wearing out
|
||
their energies in this mutual friction while the Jew trafficked in the
|
||
freedom of the nation and sold our country to the masters of
|
||
international high finance. So in our day he has succeeded again, this
|
||
time by raising ructions between the two German religious denominations
|
||
while the foundations on which both rest are being eaten away and
|
||
destroyed through the poison injected by the international and
|
||
cosmopolitan Jew.
|
||
|
||
Look at the ravages from which our people are suffering daily as a
|
||
result of being contaminated with Jewish blood. Bear in mind the fact
|
||
that this poisonous contamination can be eliminated from the national
|
||
body only after centuries, or perhaps never. Think further of how the
|
||
process of racial decomposition is debasing and in some cases even
|
||
destroying the fundamental Aryan qualities of our German people, so that
|
||
our cultural creativeness as a nation is gradually becoming impotent and
|
||
we are running the danger, at least in our great cities, of falling to
|
||
the level where Southern Italy is to-day. This pestilential adulteration
|
||
of the blood, of which hundreds of thousands of our people take no
|
||
account, is being systematically practised by the Jew to-day.
|
||
Systematically these negroid parasites in our national body corrupt our
|
||
innocent fair-haired girls and thus destroy something which can no
|
||
longer be replaced in this world.
|
||
|
||
The two Christian denominations look on with indifference at the
|
||
profanation and destruction of a noble and unique creature who was given
|
||
to the world as a gift of God's grace. For the future of the world,
|
||
however, it does not matter which of the two triumphs over the other,
|
||
the Catholic or the Protestant. But it does matter whether Aryan
|
||
humanity survives or perishes. And yet the two Christian denominations
|
||
are not contending against the destroyer of Aryan humanity but are
|
||
trying to destroy one another. Everybody who has the right kind of
|
||
feeling for his country is solemnly bound, each within his own
|
||
denomination, to see to it that he is not constantly talking about the
|
||
Will of God merely from the lips but that in actual fact he fulfils the
|
||
Will of God and does not allow God's handiwork to be debased. For it was
|
||
by the Will of God that men were made of a certain bodily shape, were
|
||
given their natures and their faculties. Whoever destroys His work wages
|
||
war against God's Creation and God's Will. Therefore everyone should
|
||
endeavour, each in his own denomination of course, and should consider
|
||
it as his first and most solemn duty to hinder any and everyone whose
|
||
conduct tends, either by word or deed, to go outside his own religious
|
||
body and pick a quarrel with those of another denomination. For, in view
|
||
of the religious schism that exists in Germany, to attack the essential
|
||
characteristics of one denomination must necessarily lead to a war of
|
||
extermination between the two Christian denominations. Here there can be
|
||
no comparison between our position and that of France, or Spain or
|
||
Italy. In those three countries one may, for instance, make propaganda
|
||
for the side that is fighting against ultramontanism without thereby
|
||
incurring the danger of a national rift among the French, or Spanish or
|
||
Italian people. In Germany, however, that cannot be so, for here the
|
||
Protestants would also take part in such propaganda. And thus the
|
||
defence which elsewhere only Catholics organize against clerical
|
||
aggression in political matters would assume with us the character of a
|
||
Protestant attack against Catholicism. What may be tolerated by the
|
||
faithful in one denomination even when it seems unjust to them, will at
|
||
once be indignantly rejected and opposed on A PRIORI grounds if it
|
||
should come from the militant leaders of another denomination. This is
|
||
so true that even men who would be ready and willing to fight for the
|
||
removal of manifest grievances within their own religious denomination
|
||
will drop their own fight and turn their activities against the outsider
|
||
the moment the abolition of such grievances is counselled or demanded by
|
||
one who is not of the same faith. They consider it unjustified and
|
||
inadmissible and incorrect for outsiders to meddle in matters which do
|
||
not affect them at all. Such attempts are not excused even when they are
|
||
inspired by a feeling for the supreme interests of the national
|
||
community; because even in our day religious feelings still have deeper
|
||
roots than all feeling for political and national expediency. That
|
||
cannot be changed by setting one denomination against another in bitter
|
||
conflict. It can be changed only if, through a spirit of mutual
|
||
tolerance, the nation can be assured of a future the greatness of which
|
||
will gradually operate as a conciliating factor in the sphere of
|
||
religion also. I have no hesitation in saying that in those men who seek
|
||
to-day to embroil the patriotic movement in religious quarrels I see
|
||
worse enemies of my country than the international communists are. For
|
||
the National Socialist Movement has set itself to the task of converting
|
||
those communists. But anyone who goes outside the ranks of his own
|
||
Movement and tends to turn it away from the fulfilment of its mission is
|
||
acting in a manner that deserves the severest condemnation. He is acting
|
||
as a champion of Jewish interests, whether consciously or unconsciously
|
||
does not matter. For it is in the interests of the Jews to-day that the
|
||
energies of the patriotic movement should be squandered in a religious
|
||
conflict, because it is beginning to be dangerous for the Jews. I have
|
||
purposely used the phrase about SQUANDERING the energies of the
|
||
Movement, because nobody but some person who is entirely ignorant of
|
||
history could imagine that this movement can solve a question which the
|
||
greatest statesmen have tried for centuries to solve, and tried in vain.
|
||
|
||
Anyhow the facts speak for themselves. The men who suddenly discovered,
|
||
in 1924, that the highest mission of the patriotic movement was to fight
|
||
ultramontanism, have not succeeded in smashing ultramontanism, but they
|
||
succeeded in splitting the patriotic movement. I have to guard against
|
||
the possibility of some immature brain arising in the patriotic movement
|
||
which thinks that it can do what even a Bismarck failed to do. It will
|
||
be always one of the first duties of those who are directing the
|
||
National Socialist Movement to oppose unconditionally any attempt to
|
||
place the National Socialist Movement at the service of such a conflict.
|
||
And anybody who conducts a propaganda with that end in view must be
|
||
expelled forthwith from its ranks.
|
||
|
||
As a matter of fact we succeeded until the autumn of 1923 in keeping our
|
||
movement away from such controversies. The most devoted Protestant could
|
||
stand side by side with the most devoted Catholic in our ranks without
|
||
having his conscience disturbed in the slightest as far as concerned his
|
||
religious convictions. The bitter struggle which both waged in common
|
||
against the wrecker of Aryan humanity taught them natural respect and
|
||
esteem. And it was just in those years that our movement had to engage
|
||
in a bitter strife with the Centre Party not for religious ends but for
|
||
national, racial, political and economic ends. The success we then
|
||
achieved showed that we were right, but it does not speak to-day in
|
||
favour of those who thought they knew better.
|
||
|
||
In recent years things have gone so far that patriotic circles, in
|
||
god-forsaken blindness of their religious strife, could not recognize
|
||
the folly of their conduct even from the fact that atheist Marxist
|
||
newspapers advocated the cause of one religious denomination or the
|
||
other, according as it suited Marxist interests, so as to create
|
||
confusion through slogans and declarations which were often immeasurably
|
||
stupid, now molesting the one party and again the other, and thus poking
|
||
the fire to keep the blaze at its highest.
|
||
|
||
But in the case of a people like the Germans, whose history has so often
|
||
shown them capable of fighting for phantoms to the point of complete
|
||
exhaustion, every war-cry is a mortal danger. By these slogans our
|
||
people have often been drawn away from the real problems of their
|
||
existence. While we were exhausting our energies in religious wars the
|
||
others were acquiring their share of the world. And while the patriotic
|
||
movement is debating with itself whether the ultramontane danger be
|
||
greater than the Jewish, or vice versa, the Jew is destroying the racial
|
||
basis of our existence and thereby annihilating our people. As far as
|
||
regards that kind of 'patriotic' warrior, on behalf of the National
|
||
Socialist Movement and therefore of the German people I pray with all my
|
||
heart: "Lord, preserve us from such friends, and then we can easily deal
|
||
with our enemies."
|
||
|
||
The controversy over federation and unification, so cunningly
|
||
propagandized by the Jews in 1919-1920 and onwards, forced National
|
||
Socialism, which repudiated the quarrel, to take up a definite stand in
|
||
relation to the essential problem concerned in it. Ought Germany to be a
|
||
confederacy or a military State? What is the practical significance of
|
||
these terms? To me it seems that the second question is more important
|
||
than the first, because it is fundamental to the understanding of the
|
||
whole problem and also because the answer to it may help to clear up
|
||
confusion and therewith have a conciliating effect.
|
||
|
||
What is a Confederacy? (Note 22)
|
||
|
||
[Note 22. Before 1918 Germany was a federal Empire, composed of
|
||
twenty-five federal states.]
|
||
|
||
By a Confederacy we mean a union of sovereign states which of their own
|
||
free will and in virtue of their sovereignty come together and create a
|
||
collective unit, ceding to that unit as much of their own sovereign
|
||
rights as will render the existence of the union possible and will
|
||
guarantee it.
|
||
|
||
But the theoretical formula is not wholly put into practice by any
|
||
confederacy that exists to-day. And least of all by the American Union,
|
||
where it is impossible to speak of original sovereignty in regard to the
|
||
majority of the states. Many of them were not included in the federal
|
||
complex until long after it had been established. The states that make
|
||
up the American Union are mostly in the nature of territories, more or
|
||
less, formed for technical administrative purposes, their boundaries
|
||
having in many cases been fixed in the mapping office. Originally these
|
||
states did not and could not possess sovereign rights of their own.
|
||
Because it was the Union that created most of the so-called states.
|
||
Therefore the sovereign rights, often very comprehensive, which were
|
||
left, or rather granted, to the various territories correspond not only
|
||
to the whole character of the Confederation but also to its vast space,
|
||
which is equivalent to the size of a Continent. Consequently, in
|
||
speaking of the United States of America one must not consider them as
|
||
sovereign states but as enjoying rights or, better perhaps, autarchic
|
||
powers, granted to them and guaranteed by the Constitution.
|
||
|
||
Nor does our definition adequately express the condition of affairs in
|
||
Germany. It is true that in Germany the individual states existed as
|
||
states before the REICH and that the REICH was formed from them. The
|
||
REICH, however, was not formed by the voluntary and equal co-operation
|
||
of the individual states, but rather because the state of Prussia
|
||
gradually acquired a position of hegemony over the others. The
|
||
difference in the territorial area alone between the German states
|
||
prevents any comparison with the American Union. The great difference in
|
||
territorial area between the very small German states that then existed
|
||
and the larger, or even still more the largest, demonstrates the
|
||
inequality of their achievements and shows that they could not take an
|
||
equal part in founding and shaping the federal Empire. In the case of
|
||
most of these individual states it cannot be maintained that they ever
|
||
enjoyed real sovereignty; and the term 'State Sovereignty' was really
|
||
nothing more than an administrative formula which had no inner meaning.
|
||
As a matter of fact, not only developments in the past but also in our
|
||
own time wiped out several of these so-called 'Sovereign States' and
|
||
thus proved in the most definite way how frail these 'sovereign' state
|
||
formations were.
|
||
|
||
I cannot deal here with the historical question of how these individual
|
||
states came to be established, but I must call attention to the fact
|
||
that hardly in any case did their frontiers coincide with ethical
|
||
frontiers of the inhabitants. They were purely political phenomena which
|
||
for the most part emerged during the sad epoch when the German Empire
|
||
was in a state of exhaustion and was dismembered. They represented both
|
||
cause and effect in the process of exhaustion and partition of our
|
||
fatherland.
|
||
|
||
The Constitution of the old REICH took all this into account, at least
|
||
up to a certain degree, in so far as the individual states were not
|
||
accorded equal representation in the Reichstag, but a representation
|
||
proportionate to their respective areas, their actual importance and the
|
||
role which they played in the formation of the REICH.
|
||
|
||
The sovereign rights which the individual states renounced in order to
|
||
form the REICH were voluntarily ceded only to a very small degree. For
|
||
the most part they had no practical existence or they were simply taken
|
||
by Prussia under the pressure of her preponderant power. The principle
|
||
followed by Bismarck was not to give the REICH what he could take from
|
||
the individual states but to demand from the individual states only what
|
||
was absolutely necessary for the REICH. A moderate and wise policy. On
|
||
the one side Bismarck showed the greatest regard for customs and
|
||
traditions; on the other side his policy secured for the new REICH from
|
||
its foundation onwards a great measure of love and willing co-operation.
|
||
But it would be a fundamental error to attribute Bismarck's decision to
|
||
any conviction on his part that the REICH was thus acquiring all the
|
||
rights of sovereignty which would suflice for all time. That was far
|
||
from Bismarck's idea. On the contrary, he wished to leave over for the
|
||
future what it would be difficult to carry through at the moment and
|
||
might not have been readily agreed to by the individual states. He
|
||
trusted to the levelling effect of time and to the pressure exercised by
|
||
the process of evolution, the steady action of which appeared more
|
||
effective than an attempt to break the resistance which the individual
|
||
states offered at the moment. By this policy he showed his great ability
|
||
in the art of statesmanship. And, as a matter of fact, the sovereignty
|
||
of the REICH has continually increased at the cost of the sovereignty of
|
||
the individual states. The passing of time has achieved what Bismarck
|
||
hoped it would.
|
||
|
||
The German collapse and the abolition of the monarchical form of
|
||
government necessarily hastened this development. The German federal
|
||
states, which had not been grounded on ethnical foundations but arose
|
||
rather out of political conditions, were bound to lose their importance
|
||
the moment the monarchical form of government and the dynasties
|
||
connected with it were abolished, for it was to the spirit inherent in
|
||
these that the individual states owned their political origin and
|
||
development. Thus deprived of their internal RAISON D'<27>TRE, they
|
||
renounced all right to survival and were induced by purely practical
|
||
reasons to fuse with their neighbours or else they joined the more
|
||
powerful states out of their own free will. That proved in a striking
|
||
manner how extraordinarily frail was the actual sovereignty these small
|
||
phantom states enjoyed, and it proved too how lightly they were
|
||
estimated by their own citizens.
|
||
|
||
Though the abolition of the monarchical regime and its representatives
|
||
had dealt a hard blow to the federal character of the REICH, still more
|
||
destructive, from the federal point of view, was the acceptance of the
|
||
obligations that resulted from the 'peace' treaty.
|
||
|
||
It was only natural and logical that the federal states should lose all
|
||
sovereign control over the finances the moment the REICH, in consequence
|
||
of a lost war, was subjected to financial obligations which could never
|
||
be guaranteed through separate treaties with the individual states. The
|
||
subsequent steps which led the REICH to take over the posts and railways
|
||
were an enforced advance in the process of enslaving our people, a
|
||
process which the peace treaties gradually developed. The REICH was
|
||
forced to secure possession of resources which had to be constantly
|
||
increased in order to satisfy the demands made by further extortions.
|
||
|
||
The form in which the powers of the REICH were thus extended to embrace
|
||
the federal states was often ridiculously stupid, but in itself the
|
||
procedure was logical and natural. The blame for it must be laid at the
|
||
door of these men and those parties that failed in the hour of need to
|
||
concentrate all their energies in an effort to bring the war to a
|
||
victorious issue. The guilt lies on those parties which, especially in
|
||
Bavaria, catered for their own egotistic interests during the war and
|
||
refused to the REICH what the REICH had to requisition to a tenfold
|
||
greater measure when the war was lost. The retribution of History!
|
||
Rarely has the vengeance of Heaven followed so closely on the crime as
|
||
it did in this case. Those same parties which, a few years previously,
|
||
placed the interests of their own states--especially in Bavaria--before
|
||
those of the REICH had now to look on passively while the pressure of
|
||
events forced the REICH, in its own interests, to abolish the existence
|
||
of the individual states. They were the victims of their own defaults.
|
||
|
||
It was an unparalleled example of hypocrisy to raise the cry of
|
||
lamentation over the loss which the federal states suffered in being
|
||
deprived of their sovereign rights. This cry was raised before the
|
||
electorate, for it is only to the electorate that our contemporary
|
||
parties address themselves. But these parties, without exception, outbid
|
||
one another in accepting a policy of fulfilment which, by the sheer
|
||
force of circumstances and in its ultimate consequences, could not but
|
||
lead to a profound alteration in the internal structure of the REICH.
|
||
Bismarck's REICH was free and unhampered by any obligations towards the
|
||
outside world.
|
||
|
||
Bismarck's REICH never had to shoulder such heavy and entirely
|
||
unproductive obligations as those to which Germany was subjected under
|
||
the Dawes Plan. Also in domestic affairs Bismarck's REICH was able to
|
||
limit its powers to a few matters that were absolutely necessary for its
|
||
existence. Therefore it could dispense with the necessity of a financial
|
||
control over these states and could live from their contributions. On
|
||
the other side the relatively small financial tribute which the federal
|
||
states had to pay to the REICH induced them to welcome its existence.
|
||
But it is untrue and unjust to state now, as certain propagandists do,
|
||
that the federal states are displeased with the REICH merely because of
|
||
their financial subjection to it. No, that is not how the matter really
|
||
stands. The lack of sympathy for the political idea embodied in the
|
||
REICH is not due to the loss of sovereign rights on the part of the
|
||
individual states. It is much more the result of the deplorable fashion
|
||
in which the present r<>gime cares for the interests of the German
|
||
people. Despite all the celebrations in honour of the national flag and
|
||
the Constitution, every section of the German people feels that the
|
||
present REICH is not in accordance with its heart's desire. And the Law
|
||
for the Protection of the Republic may prevent outrages against
|
||
republican institutions, but it will not gain the love of one single
|
||
German. In its constant anxiety to protect itself against its own
|
||
citizens by means of laws and sentences of imprisonment, the Republic
|
||
has aroused sharp and humiliating criticism of all republican
|
||
institutions as such.
|
||
|
||
For another reason also it is untrue to say, as certain parties affirm
|
||
to-day, that the REICH has ceased to be popular on account of its
|
||
overbearing conduct in regard to certain sovereign rights which the
|
||
individual states had heretofore enjoyed. Supposing the REICH had not
|
||
extended its authority over the individual states, there is no reason to
|
||
believe that it would find more favour among those states if the general
|
||
obligations remained so heavy as they now are. On the contrary, if the
|
||
individual states had to pay their respective shares of the highly
|
||
increased tribute which the REICH has to meet to-day in order to fulfil
|
||
the provisions of the Versailles Dictate, the hostility towards the
|
||
REICH would be infinitely greater. For then not only would it prove
|
||
difficult to collect the respective contributions due to the REICH from
|
||
the federal states, but coercive methods would have to be employed in
|
||
making the collections. The Republic stands on the footing of the peace
|
||
treaties and has neither the courage nor the intention to break them.
|
||
That being so, it must observe the obligations which the peace treaties
|
||
have imposed on it. The responsibility for this situation is to be
|
||
attributed solely to those parties who preach unceasingly to the patient
|
||
electoral masses on the necessity of maintaining the autonomy of the
|
||
federal states, while at the same time they champion and demand of the
|
||
REICH a policy which must necessarily lead to the suppression of even
|
||
the very last of those so-called 'sovereign' rights.
|
||
|
||
I say NECESSARILY because the present REICH has no other possible means
|
||
of bearing the burden of charges which an insane domestic and foreign
|
||
policy has laid on it. Here still another wedge is placed on the former,
|
||
to drive it in still deeper. Every new debt which the REICH contracts,
|
||
through the criminal way in which the interests of Germany are
|
||
represented VIS-<2D>-VIS foreign countries, necessitates a new and stronger
|
||
blow which drives the under wedges still deeper, That blow demands
|
||
another step in the progressive abolition of the sovereign rights of the
|
||
individual states, so as not to allow the germs of opposition to rise up
|
||
into activity or even to exist.
|
||
|
||
The chief characteristic difference between the policy of the present
|
||
REICH and that of former times lies in this: The old REICH gave freedom
|
||
to its people at home and showed itself strong towards the outside
|
||
world, whereas the Republic shows itself weak towards the stranger and
|
||
oppresses its own citizens at home. In both cases one attitude
|
||
determines the other. A vigorous national State does not need to make
|
||
many laws for the interior, because of the affection and attachment of
|
||
its citizens. The international servile State can live only by coercing
|
||
its citizens to render it the services it demands. And it is a piece of
|
||
impudent falsehood for the present regime to speak of 'Free citizens'.
|
||
Only the old Germany could speak in that manner. The present Republic is
|
||
a colony of slaves at the service of the stranger. At best it has
|
||
subjects, but not citizens. Hence it does not possess a national flag
|
||
but only a trade mark, introduced and protected by official decree and
|
||
legislative measures. This symbol, which is the Gessler's cap of German
|
||
Democracy, will always remain alien to the spirit of our people. On its
|
||
side, the Republic having no sense of tradition or respect for past
|
||
greatness, dragged the symbol of the past in the mud, but it will be
|
||
surprised one day to discover how superficial is the devotion of its
|
||
citizens to its own symbol. The Republic has given to itself the
|
||
character of an intermezzo in German history. And so this State is bound
|
||
constantly to restrict more and more the sovereign rights of the
|
||
individual states, not only for general reasons of a financial character
|
||
but also on principle. For by enforcing a policy of financial blackmail,
|
||
to squeeze the last ounce of substance out of its people, it is forced
|
||
also to take their last rights away from them, lest the general
|
||
discontent may one day flame up into open rebellion.
|
||
|
||
We, National Socialists, would reverse this formula and would adopt the
|
||
following axiom: A strong national REICH which recognizes and protects
|
||
to the largest possible measure the rights of its citizens both within
|
||
and outside its frontiers can allow freedom to reign at home without
|
||
trembling for the safety of the State. On the other hand, a strong
|
||
national Government can intervene to a considerable degree in the
|
||
liberties of the individual subject as well as in the liberties of the
|
||
constituent states without thereby weakening the ideal of the REICH; and
|
||
it can do this while recognizing its responsibility for the ideal of the
|
||
REICH, because in these particular acts and measures the individual
|
||
citizen recognizes a means of promoting the prestige of the nation as a
|
||
whole.
|
||
|
||
Of course, every State in the world has to face the question of
|
||
unification in its internal organization. And Germany is no exception in
|
||
this matter. Nowadays it is absurd to speak of 'statal sovereignty' for
|
||
the constituent states of the REICH, because that has already become
|
||
impossible on account of the ridiculously small size of so many of these
|
||
states. In the sphere of commerce as well as that of administration the
|
||
importance of the individual states has been steadily decreasing. Modern
|
||
means of communication and mechanical progress have been increasingly
|
||
restricting distance and space. What was once a State is to-day only a
|
||
province and the territory covered by a modern State had once the
|
||
importance of a continent. The purely technical difficulty of
|
||
administering a State like Germany is not greater than that of governing
|
||
a province like Brandenburg a hundred years ago. And to-day it is easier
|
||
to cover the distance from Munich to Berlin than it was to cover the
|
||
distance from Munich to Starnberg a hundred years ago. In view of the
|
||
modern means of transport, the whole territory of the REICH to-day is
|
||
smaller than that of certain German federal states at the time of the
|
||
Napoleonic wars. To close one's eyes to the consequences of these facts
|
||
means to live in the past. There always were, there are and always will
|
||
be, men who do this. They may retard but they cannot stop the
|
||
revolutions of history.
|
||
|
||
We, National Socialists, must not allow the consequences of that truth
|
||
to pass by us unnoticed. In these matters also we must not permit
|
||
ourselves to be misled by the phrases of our so-called national
|
||
bourgeois parties. I say 'phrases', because these same parodies do not
|
||
seriously believe that it is possible for them to carry out their
|
||
proposals, and because they themselves are the chief culprits and also
|
||
the accomplices responsible for the present state of affairs. Especially
|
||
in Bavaria, the demands for a halt in the process of centralization can
|
||
be no more than a party move behind which there is no serious idea. If
|
||
these parties ever had to pass from the realm of phrase-making into that
|
||
of practical deeds they would present a sorry spectacle. Every so-called
|
||
'Robbery of Sovereign Rights' from Bavaria by the REICH has met with no
|
||
practical resistance, except for some fatuous barking by way of protest.
|
||
Indeed, when anyone seriously opposed the madness that was shown in
|
||
carrying out this system of centralization he was told by those same
|
||
parties that he understood nothing of the nature and needs of the State
|
||
to-day. They slandered him and pronounced him anathema and persecuted
|
||
him until he was either shut up in prison or illegally deprived of the
|
||
right of public speech. In the light of these facts our followers should
|
||
become all the more convinced of the profound hypocrisy which
|
||
characterizes these so-called federalist circles. To a certain extent
|
||
they use the federalist doctrine just as they use the name of religion,
|
||
merely as a means of promoting their own base party interests.
|
||
|
||
A certain unification, especially in the field of transport, appears
|
||
logical. But we, National Socialists, feel it our duty to oppose with
|
||
all our might such a development in the modern State, especially when
|
||
the measures proposed are solely for the purpose of screening a
|
||
disastrous foreign policy and making it possible. And just because the
|
||
present REICH has threatened to take over the railways, the posts, the
|
||
finances, etc., not from the high standpoint of a national policy, but
|
||
in order to have in its hands the means and pledges for an unlimited
|
||
policy of fulfilment--for that reason we, National Socialists, must take
|
||
every step that seems suitable to obstruct and, if possible, definitely
|
||
to prevent such a policy. We must fight against the present system of
|
||
amalgamating institutions that are vitally important for the existence
|
||
of our people, because this system is being adopted solely to facilitate
|
||
the payment of milliards and the transference of pledges to the
|
||
stranger, under the post-War provisions which our politicians have
|
||
accepted.
|
||
|
||
For these reasons also the National Socialist Movement has to take up a
|
||
stand against such tendencies.
|
||
|
||
Moreover, we must oppose such centralization because in domestic affairs
|
||
it helps to reinforce a system of government which in all its
|
||
manifestations has brought the greatest misfortunes on the German
|
||
nation. The present Jewish-Democratic REICH, which has become a
|
||
veritable curse for the German people, is seeking to negative the force
|
||
of the criticism offered by all the federal states which have not yet
|
||
become imbued with the spirit of the age, and is trying to carry out
|
||
this policy by crushing them to the point of annihilation. In face of
|
||
this we National Socialists must try to ground the opposition of the
|
||
individual states on such a basis that it will be able to operate with a
|
||
good promise of success. We must do this by transforming the struggle
|
||
against centralization into something that will be an expression of the
|
||
higher interests of the German nation as such. Therefore, while the
|
||
Bavarian Populist Party, acting from its own narrow and particularist
|
||
standpoint, fights to maintain the 'special rights' of the Bavarian
|
||
State, we ought to stand on quite a different ground in fighting for the
|
||
same rights. Our grounds ought to be those of the higher national
|
||
interests in opposition to the November Democracy.
|
||
|
||
A still further reason for opposing a centralizing process of that kind
|
||
arises from the certain conviction that in great part this so-called
|
||
nationalization does not make for unification at all and still less for
|
||
simplification. In many cases it is adopted simply as a means of
|
||
removing from the sovereign control of the individual states certain
|
||
institutions which they wish to place in the hands of the revolutionary
|
||
parties. In German History favouritism has never been of so base a
|
||
character as in the democratic republic. A great portion of this
|
||
centralization to-day is the work of parties which once promised that
|
||
they would open the way for the promotion of talent, meaning thereby
|
||
that they would fill those posts and offices entirely with their own
|
||
partisans. Since the foundation of the Republic the Jews especially have
|
||
been obtaining positions in the economic institutions taken over by the
|
||
REICH and also positions in the national administration, so that the one
|
||
and the other have become preserves of Jewry.
|
||
|
||
For tactical reasons, this last consideration obliges us to watch with
|
||
the greatest attention every further attempt at centralization and fight
|
||
it at each step. But in doing this our standpoint must always be that of
|
||
a lofty national policy and never a pettifogging particularism.
|
||
|
||
This last observation is necessary, lest an opinion might arise among
|
||
our own followers that we do not accredit to the REICH the right of
|
||
incorporating in itself a sovereignty which is superior to that of the
|
||
constituent states. As regards this right we cannot and must not
|
||
entertain the slightest doubt. Because for us the State is nothing but a
|
||
form. Its substance, or content, is the essential thing. And that is the
|
||
nation, the people. It is clear therefore that every other interest must
|
||
be subordinated to the supreme interests of the nation. In particular we
|
||
cannot accredit to any other state a sovereign power and sovereign
|
||
rights within the confines of the nation and the REICH, which represents
|
||
the nation. The absurdity which some federal states commit by
|
||
maintaining 'representations' abroad and corresponding foreign
|
||
'representations' among themselves--that must cease and will cease.
|
||
Until this happens we cannot be surprised if certain foreign countries
|
||
are dubious about the political unity of the REICH and act accordingly.
|
||
The absurdity of these 'representations' is all the greater because they
|
||
do harm and do not bring the slightest advantage. If the interests of a
|
||
German abroad cannot be protected by the ambassador of the REICH, much
|
||
less can they be protected by the minister from some small federal state
|
||
which appears ridiculous in the framework of the present world order.
|
||
The real truth is that these small federal states are envisaged as
|
||
points of attack for attempts at secession, which prospect is always
|
||
pleasing to a certain foreign State. We, National Socialists, must not
|
||
allow some noble caste which has become effete with age to occupy an
|
||
ambassadorial post abroad, with the idea that by engrafting one of its
|
||
withered branches in new soil the green leaves may sprout again. Already
|
||
in the time of the old REICH our diplomatic representatives abroad were
|
||
such a sorry lot that a further trial of that experience would be out of
|
||
the question.
|
||
|
||
It is certain that in the future the importance of the individual states
|
||
will be transferred to the sphere of our cultural policy. The monarch
|
||
who did most to make Bavaria an important centre was not an obstinate
|
||
particularist with anti-German tendencies, but Ludwig I who was as much
|
||
devoted to the ideal of German greatness as he was to that of art. His
|
||
first consideration was to use the powers of the state to develop the
|
||
cultural position of Bavaria and not its political power. And in doing
|
||
this he produced better and more durable results than if he had followed
|
||
any other line of conduct. Up to this time Munich was a provincial
|
||
residence town of only small importance, but he transformed it into the
|
||
metropolis of German art and by doing so he made it an intellectual
|
||
centre which even to-day holds Franconia to Bavaria, though the
|
||
Franconians are of quite a different temperament. If Munich had remained
|
||
as it had been earlier, what has happened in Saxony would have been
|
||
repeated in Bavaria, with the difference that Leipzig and Bavarian
|
||
N<EFBFBD>rnberg would have become, not Bavarian but Franconian cities. It was
|
||
not the cry of "Down with Prussia" that made Munich great. What made
|
||
this a city of importance was the King who wished to present it to the
|
||
German nation as an artistic jewel that would have to be seen and
|
||
appreciated, and so it has turned out in fact. Therein lies a lesson for
|
||
the future. The importance of the individual states in the future will
|
||
no longer lie in their political or statal power. I look to them rather
|
||
as important ethnical and cultural centres. But even in this respect
|
||
time will do its levelling work. Modern travelling facilities shuffle
|
||
people among one another in such a way that tribal boundaries will fade
|
||
out and even the cultural picture will gradually become more of a
|
||
uniform pattern.
|
||
|
||
The army must definitely be kept clear of the influence of the
|
||
individual states. The coming National Socialist State must not fall
|
||
back into the error of the past by imposing on the army a task which is
|
||
not within its sphere and never should have been assigned to it. The
|
||
German army does not exist for the purpose of being a school in which
|
||
tribal particularisms are to be cultivated and preserved, but rather as
|
||
a school for teaching all the Germans to understand and adapt their
|
||
habits to one another. Whatever tends to have a separating influence in
|
||
the life of the nation ought to be made a unifying influence in the
|
||
army. The army must raise the German boy above the narrow horizon of his
|
||
own little native province and set him within the broad picture of the
|
||
nation. The youth must learn to know, not the confines of his own region
|
||
but those of the fatherland, because it is the latter that he will have
|
||
to defend one day. It is therefore absurd to have the German youth do
|
||
his military training in his own native region. During that period he
|
||
ought to learn to know Germany. This is all the more important to-day,
|
||
since young Germans no longer travel on their own account as they once
|
||
used to do and thus enlarge their horizon. In view of this, is it not
|
||
absurd to leave the young Bavarian recruit at Munich, the recruit from
|
||
Baden at Baden itself and the W<>rttemberger at Stuttgart and so on? And
|
||
would it not be more reasonable to show the Rhine and the North Sea to
|
||
the Bavarian, the Alps to the native of Hamburg and the mountains of
|
||
Central Germany to the boy from East Prussia? The character proper to
|
||
each region ought to be maintained in the troops but not in the training
|
||
garrisons. We may disapprove of every attempt at unification but not
|
||
that of unifying the army. On the contrary, even though we should wish
|
||
to welcome no other kind of unification, this must be greeted with joy.
|
||
In view of the size of the present army of the REICH, it would be absurd
|
||
to maintain the federal divisions among the troops. Moreover, in the
|
||
unification of the German army which has actually been effected we see a
|
||
fact which we must not renounce but restore in the future national army.
|
||
|
||
Finally a new and triumphant idea should burst every chain which tends
|
||
to paralyse its efforts to push forward. National Socialism must claim
|
||
the right to impose its principles on the whole German nation, without
|
||
regard to what were hitherto the confines of federal states. And we must
|
||
educate the German nation in our ideas and principles. As the Churches
|
||
do not feel themselves bound or limited by political confines, so the
|
||
National Socialist Idea cannot feel itself limited to the territories of
|
||
the individual federal states that belong to our Fatherland.
|
||
|
||
The National Socialist doctrine is not handmaid to the political
|
||
interests of the single federal states. One day it must become teacher
|
||
to the whole German nation. It must determine the life of the whole
|
||
people and shape that life anew. For this reason we must imperatively
|
||
demand the right to overstep boundaries that have been traced by a
|
||
political development which we repudiate.
|
||
|
||
The more completely our ideas triumph, the more liberty can we concede
|
||
in particular affairs to our citizens at home.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
CHAPTER XI
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
PROPAGANDA AND ORGANIZATION
|
||
|
||
|
||
The year 1921 was specially important for me from many points of view.
|
||
|
||
When I entered the German Labour Party I at once took charge of the
|
||
propaganda, believing this branch to be far the most important for the
|
||
time being. Just then it was not a matter of pressing necessity to
|
||
cudgel one's brains over problems of organization. The first necessity
|
||
was to spread our ideas among as many people as possible. Propaganda
|
||
should go well ahead of organization and gather together the human
|
||
material for the latter to work up. I have never been in favour of hasty
|
||
and pedantic methods of organization, because in most cases the result
|
||
is merely a piece of dead mechanism and only rarely a living
|
||
organization. Organization is a thing that derives its existence from
|
||
organic life, organic evolution. When the same set of ideas have found a
|
||
lodgement in the minds of a certain number of people they tend of
|
||
themselves to form a certain degree of order among those people and out
|
||
of this inner formation something that is very valuable arises. Of
|
||
course here, as everywhere else, one must take account of those human
|
||
weaknesses which make men hesitate, especially at the beginning, to
|
||
submit to the control of a superior mind. If an organization is imposed
|
||
from above downwards in a mechanical fashion, there is always the danger
|
||
that some individual may push himself forward who is not known for what
|
||
he is and who, out of jealousy, will try to hinder abler persons from
|
||
taking a leading place in the movement. The damage that results from
|
||
that kind of thing may have fatal consequences, especially in a new
|
||
movement.
|
||
|
||
For this reason it is advisable first to propagate and publicly expound
|
||
the ideas on which the movement is founded. This work of propaganda
|
||
should continue for a certain time and should be directed from one
|
||
centre. When the ideas have gradually won over a number of people this
|
||
human material should be carefully sifted for the purpose of selecting
|
||
those who have ability in leadership and putting that ability to the
|
||
test. It will often be found that apparently insignificant persons will
|
||
nevertheless turn out to be born leaders.
|
||
|
||
Of course, it is quite a mistake to suppose that those who show a very
|
||
intelligent grasp of the theory underlying a movement are for that
|
||
reason qualified to fill responsible positions on the directorate. The
|
||
contrary is very frequently the case.
|
||
|
||
Great masters of theory are only very rarely great organizers also. And
|
||
this is because the greatness of the theorist and founder of a system
|
||
consists in being able to discover and lay down those laws that are
|
||
right in the abstract, whereas the organizer must first of all be a man
|
||
of psychological insight. He must take men as they are, and for that
|
||
reason he must know them, not having too high or too low an estimate of
|
||
human nature. He must take account of their weaknesses, their baseness
|
||
and all the other various characteristics, so as to form something out
|
||
of them which will be a living organism, endowed with strong powers of
|
||
resistance, fitted to be the carrier of an idea and strong enough to
|
||
ensure the triumph of that idea.
|
||
|
||
But it is still more rare to find a great theorist who is at the same
|
||
time a great leader. For the latter must be more of an agitator, a truth
|
||
that will not be readily accepted by many of those who deal with
|
||
problems only from the scientific standpoint. And yet what I say is only
|
||
natural. For an agitator who shows himself capable of expounding ideas
|
||
to the great masses must always be a psychologist, even though he may be
|
||
only a demagogue. Therefore he will always be a much more capable leader
|
||
than the contemplative theorist who meditates on his ideas, far from the
|
||
human throng and the world. For to be a leader means to be able to move
|
||
the masses. The gift of formulating ideas has nothing whatsoever to do
|
||
with the capacity for leadership. It would be entirely futile to discuss
|
||
the question as to which is the more important: the faculty of
|
||
conceiving ideals and human aims or that of being able to have them put
|
||
into practice. Here, as so often happens in life, the one would be
|
||
entirely meaningless without the other. The noblest conceptions of the
|
||
human understanding remain without purpose or value if the leader cannot
|
||
move the masses towards them. And, conversely, what would it avail to
|
||
have all the genius and elan of a leader if the intellectual theorist
|
||
does not fix the aims for which mankind must struggle. But when the
|
||
abilities of theorist and organizer and leader are united in the one
|
||
person, then we have the rarest phenomenon on this earth. And it is that
|
||
union which produces the great man.
|
||
|
||
As I have already said, during my first period in the Party I devoted
|
||
myself to the work of propaganda. I had to succeed in gradually
|
||
gathering together a small nucleus of men who would accept the new
|
||
teaching and be inspired by it. And in this way we should provide the
|
||
human material which subsequently would form the constituent elements of
|
||
the organization. Thus the goal of the propagandist is nearly always
|
||
fixed far beyond that of the organizer.
|
||
|
||
If a movement proposes to overthrow a certain order of things and
|
||
construct a new one in its place, then the following principles must be
|
||
clearly understood and must dominate in the ranks of its leadership:
|
||
Every movement which has gained its human material must first divide
|
||
this material into two groups: namely, followers and members.
|
||
|
||
It is the task of the propagandist to recruit the followers and it is
|
||
the task of the organizer to select the members.
|
||
|
||
The follower of a movement is he who understands and accepts its aims;
|
||
the member is he who fights for them.
|
||
|
||
The follower is one whom the propaganda has converted to the doctrine of
|
||
the movement. The member is he who will be charged by the organization
|
||
to collaborate in winning over new followers from which in turn new
|
||
members can be formed.
|
||
|
||
To be a follower needs only the passive recognition of the idea. To be a
|
||
member means to represent that idea and fight for it. From ten followers
|
||
one can have scarcely more than two members. To be a follower simply
|
||
implies that a man has accepted the teaching of the movement; whereas to
|
||
be a member means that a man has the courage to participate actively in
|
||
diffusing that teaching in which he has come to believe.
|
||
|
||
Because of its passive character, the simple effort of believing in a
|
||
political doctrine is enough for the majority, for the majority of
|
||
mankind is mentally lazy and timid. To be a member one must be
|
||
intellectually active, and therefore this applies only to the minority.
|
||
|
||
Such being the case, the propagandist must seek untiringly to acquire
|
||
new followers for the movement, whereas the organizer must diligently
|
||
look out for the best elements among such followers, so that these
|
||
elements may be transformed into members. The propagandist need not
|
||
trouble too much about the personal worth of the individual proselytes
|
||
he has won for the movement. He need not inquire into their abilities,
|
||
their intelligence or character. From these proselytes, however, the
|
||
organizer will have to select those individuals who are most capable of
|
||
actively helping to bring the movement to victory.
|
||
|
||
The propagandist aims at inducing the whole people to accept his
|
||
teaching. The organizer includes in his body of membership only those
|
||
who, on psychological grounds, will not be an impediment to the further
|
||
diffusion of the doctrines of the movement.
|
||
|
||
The propagandist inculcates his doctrine among the masses, with the idea
|
||
of preparing them for the time when this doctrine will triumph, through
|
||
the body of combatant members which he has formed from those followers
|
||
who have given proof of the necessary ability and will-power to carry
|
||
the struggle to victory.
|
||
|
||
The final triumph of a doctrine will be made all the more easy if the
|
||
propagandist has effectively converted large bodies of men to the belief
|
||
in that doctrine and if the organization that actively conducts the
|
||
fight be exclusive, vigorous and solid.
|
||
|
||
When the propaganda work has converted a whole people to believe in a
|
||
doctrine, the organization can turn the results of this into practical
|
||
effect through the work of a mere handful of men. Propaganda and
|
||
organization, therefore follower and member, then stand towards one
|
||
another in a definite mutual relationship. The better the propaganda has
|
||
worked, the smaller will the organization be. The greater the number of
|
||
followers, so much the smaller can be the number of members. And
|
||
conversely. If the propaganda be bad, the organization must be large.
|
||
And if there be only a small number of followers, the membership must be
|
||
all the larger--if the movement really counts on being successful.
|
||
|
||
The first duty of the propagandist is to win over people who can
|
||
subsequently be taken into the organization. And the first duty of the
|
||
organization is to select and train men who will be capable of carrying
|
||
on the propaganda. The second duty of the organization is to disrupt the
|
||
existing order of things and thus make room for the penetration of the
|
||
new teaching which it represents, while the duty of the organizer must
|
||
be to fight for the purpose of securing power, so that the doctrine may
|
||
finally triumph.
|
||
|
||
A revolutionary conception of the world and human existence will always
|
||
achieve decisive success when the new WELTANSCHAUUNG has been taught to
|
||
a whole people, or subsequently forced upon them if necessary, and when,
|
||
on the other hand, the central organization, the movement itself, is in
|
||
the hands of only those few men who are absolutely indispensable to form
|
||
the nerve-centres of the coming State.
|
||
|
||
Put in another way, this means that in every great revolutionary
|
||
movement that is of world importance the idea of this movement must
|
||
always be spread abroad through the operation of propaganda. The
|
||
propagandist must never tire in his efforts to make the new ideas
|
||
clearly understood, inculcating them among others, or at least he must
|
||
place himself in the position of those others and endeavour to upset
|
||
their confidence in the convictions they have hitherto held. In order
|
||
that such propaganda should have backbone to it, it must be based on an
|
||
organization. The organization chooses its members from among those
|
||
followers whom the propaganda has won. That organization will become all
|
||
the more vigorous if the work of propaganda be pushed forward
|
||
intensively. And the propaganda will work all the better when the
|
||
organization back of it is vigorous and strong in itself.
|
||
|
||
Hence the supreme task of the organizer is to see to it that any discord
|
||
or differences which may arise among the members of the movement will
|
||
not lead to a split and thereby cramp the work within the movement.
|
||
Moreover, it is the duty of the organization to see that the fighting
|
||
spirit of the movement does not flag or die out but that it is
|
||
constantly reinvigorated and restrengthened. It is not necessary the
|
||
number of members should increase indefinitely. Quite the contrary would
|
||
be better. In view of the fact that only a fraction of humanity has
|
||
energy and courage, a movement which increases its own organization
|
||
indefinitely must of necessity one day become plethoric and inactive.
|
||
Organizations, that is to say, groups of members, which increase their
|
||
size beyond certain dimensions gradually lose their fighting force and
|
||
are no longer in form to back up the propagation of a doctrine with
|
||
aggressive elan and determination.
|
||
|
||
Now the greater and more revolutionary a doctrine is, so much the more
|
||
active will be the spirit inspiring its body of members, because the
|
||
subversive energy of such a doctrine will frighten way the
|
||
chicken-hearted and small-minded bourgeoisie. In their hearts they may
|
||
believe in the doctrine but they are afraid to acknowledge their belief
|
||
openly. By reason of this very fact, however, an organization inspired
|
||
by a veritable revolutionary idea will attract into the body of its
|
||
membership only the most active of those believers who have been won for
|
||
it by its propaganda. It is in this activity on the part of the
|
||
membership body, guaranteed by the process of natural selection, that we
|
||
are to seek the prerequisite conditions for the continuation of an
|
||
active and spirited propaganda and also the victorious struggle for the
|
||
success of the idea on which the movement is based.
|
||
|
||
The greatest danger that can threaten a movement is an abnormal increase
|
||
in the number of its members, owing to its too rapid success. So long as
|
||
a movement has to carry on a hard and bitter fight, people of weak and
|
||
fundamentally egotistic temperament will steer very clear of it; but
|
||
these will try to be accepted as members the moment the party achieves a
|
||
manifest success in the course of its development.
|
||
|
||
It is on these grounds that we are to explain why so many movements
|
||
which were at first successful slowed down before reaching the
|
||
fulfilment of their purpose and, from an inner weakness which could not
|
||
otherwise be explained, gave up the struggle and finally disappeared
|
||
from the field. As a result of the early successes achieved, so many
|
||
undesirable, unworthy and especially timid individuals became members of
|
||
the movement that they finally secured the majority and stifled the
|
||
fighting spirit of the others. These inferior elements then turned the
|
||
movement to the service of their personal interests and, debasing it to
|
||
the level of their own miserable heroism, no longer struggled for the
|
||
triumph of the original idea. The fire of the first fervour died out,
|
||
the fighting spirit flagged and, as the bourgeois world is accustomed to
|
||
say very justly in such cases, the party mixed water with its wine.
|
||
|
||
For this reason it is necessary that a movement should, from the sheer
|
||
instinct of self-preservation, close its lists to new membership the
|
||
moment it becomes successful. And any further increase in its
|
||
organization should be allowed to take place only with the most careful
|
||
foresight and after a painstaking sifting of those who apply for
|
||
membership. Only thus will it be possible to keep the kernel of the
|
||
movement intact and fresh and sound. Care must be taken that the conduct
|
||
of the movement is maintained exclusively in the hands of this original
|
||
nucleus. This means that the nucleus must direct the propaganda which
|
||
aims at securing general recognition for the movement. And the movement
|
||
itself, when it has secured power in its hands, must carry out all those
|
||
acts and measures which are necessary in order that its ideas should be
|
||
finally established in practice.
|
||
|
||
With those elements that originally made the movement, the organization
|
||
should occupy all the important positions that have been conquered and
|
||
from those elements the whole directorate should be formed. This should
|
||
continue until the maxims and doctrines of the party have become the
|
||
foundation and policy of the new State. Only then will it be permissible
|
||
gradually to give the reins into the hands of the Constitution of that
|
||
State which the spirit of the movement has created. But this usually
|
||
happens through a process of mutual rivalry, for here it is less a
|
||
question of human intelligence than of the play and effect of the forces
|
||
whose development may indeed be foreseen from the start but not
|
||
perpetually controlled.
|
||
|
||
All great movements, whether of a political or religious nature, owe
|
||
their imposing success to the recognition and adoption of those
|
||
principles. And no durable success is conceivable if these laws are not
|
||
observed.
|
||
|
||
As director of propaganda for the party, I took care not merely to
|
||
prepare the ground for the greatness of the movement in its subsequent
|
||
stages, but I also adopted the most radical measures against allowing
|
||
into the organization any other than the best material. For the more
|
||
radical and exciting my propaganda was, the more did it frighten weak
|
||
and wavering characters away, thus preventing them from entering the
|
||
first nucleus of our organization. Perhaps they remained followers, but
|
||
they did not raise their voices. On the contrary, they maintained a
|
||
discreet silence on the fact. Many thousands of persons then assured me
|
||
that they were in full agreement with us but they could not on any
|
||
account become members of our party. They said that the movement was so
|
||
radical that to take part in it as members would expose them to grave
|
||
censures and grave dangers, so that they would rather continue to be
|
||
looked upon as honest and peaceful citizens and remain aside, for the
|
||
time being at least, though devoted to our cause with all their hearts.
|
||
|
||
And that was all to the good. If all these men who in their hearts did
|
||
not approve of revolutionary ideas came into our movement as members at
|
||
that time, we should be looked upon as a pious confraternity to-day and
|
||
not as a young movement inspired with the spirit of combat.
|
||
|
||
The lively and combative form which I gave to all our propaganda
|
||
fortified and guaranteed the radical tendency of our movement, and the
|
||
result was that, with a few exceptions, only men of radical views were
|
||
disposed to become members.
|
||
|
||
It was due to the effect of our propaganda that within a short period of
|
||
time hundreds of thousands of citizens became convinced in their hearts
|
||
that we were right and wished us victory, although personally they were
|
||
too timid to make sacrifices for our cause or even participate in it.
|
||
|
||
Up to the middle of 1921 this simple activity of gathering in followers
|
||
was sufficient and was of value to the movement. But in the summer of
|
||
that year certain events happened which made it seem opportune for us to
|
||
bring our organization into line with the manifest successes which the
|
||
propaganda had achieved.
|
||
|
||
An attempt made by a group of patriotic visionaries, supported by the
|
||
chairman of the party at that time, to take over the direction of the
|
||
party led to the break up of this little intrigue and, by a unanimous
|
||
vote at a general meeting, entrusted the entire direction of the party
|
||
to my own hands. At the same time a new statute was passed which
|
||
invested sole responsibility in the chairman of the movement, abolished
|
||
the system of resolutions in committee and in its stead introduced the
|
||
principle of division of labour which since that time has worked
|
||
excellently.
|
||
|
||
From August 1st, 1921, onwards I undertook this internal reorganization
|
||
of the party and was supported by a number of excellent men. I shall
|
||
mention them and their work individually later on.
|
||
|
||
In my endeavour to turn the results gained by the propaganda to the
|
||
advantage of the organization and thus stabilize them, I had to abolish
|
||
completely a number of old customs and introduce regulations which none
|
||
of the other parties possessed or had adopted.
|
||
|
||
In the years 1920-21 the movement was controlled by a committee elected
|
||
by the members at a general meeting. The committee was composed of a
|
||
first and second treasurer, a first and second secretary, and a first
|
||
and second chairman at the head of it. In addition to these there was a
|
||
representative of the members, the director of propaganda, and various
|
||
assessors.
|
||
|
||
Comically enough, the committee embodied the very principle against
|
||
which the movement itself wanted to fight with all its energy, namely,
|
||
the principle of parliamentarianism. Here was a principle which
|
||
personified everything that was being opposed by the movement, from the
|
||
smallest local groups to the district and regional groups, the state
|
||
groups and finally the national directorate itself. It was a system
|
||
under which we all suffered and are still suffering.
|
||
|
||
It was imperative to change this state of affairs forthwith, if this bad
|
||
foundation in the internal organization was not to keep the movement
|
||
insecure and render the fulfilment of its high mission impossible.
|
||
|
||
The sessions of the committee, which were ruled by a protocol, and in
|
||
which decisions were made according to the vote of the majority,
|
||
presented the picture of a miniature parliament. Here also there was no
|
||
such thing as personal responsibility. And here reigned the same
|
||
absurdities and illogical state of affairs as flourish in our great
|
||
representative bodies of the State. Names were presented to this
|
||
committee for election as secretaries, treasurers, representatives of
|
||
the members of the organization, propaganda agents and God knows what
|
||
else. And then they all acted in common on every particular question and
|
||
decided it by vote. Accordingly, the director of propaganda voted on a
|
||
question that concerned the man who had to do with the finances and the
|
||
latter in his turn voted on a question that concerned only the
|
||
organization as such, the organizer voting on a subject that had to do
|
||
with the secretarial department, and so on.
|
||
|
||
Why select a special man for propaganda if treasurers and scribes and
|
||
commissaries, etc., had to deliver judgment on questions concerning it?
|
||
To a person of commonsense that sort of thing seemed as incomprehensible
|
||
as it would be if in a great manufacturing concern the board of
|
||
directors were to decide on technical questions of production or if,
|
||
inversely, the engineers were to decide on questions of administration.
|
||
|
||
I refused to countenance that kind of folly and after a short time I
|
||
ceased to appear at the meetings of the committee. I did nothing else
|
||
except attend to my own department of propaganda and I did not permit
|
||
any of the others to poke their heads into my activities. Conversely, I
|
||
did not interfere in the affairs of others.
|
||
|
||
When the new statute was approved and I was appointed as president, I
|
||
had the necessary authority in my hands and also the corresponding right
|
||
to make short shrift of all that nonsense. In the place of decisions by
|
||
the majority vote of the committee, the principle of absolute
|
||
responsibility was introduced.
|
||
|
||
The chairman is responsible for the whole control of the movement. He
|
||
apportions the work among the members of the committee subordinate to
|
||
him and for special work he selects other individuals. Each of these
|
||
gentlemen must bear sole responsibility for the task assigned to him. He
|
||
is subordinate only to the chairman, whose duty is to supervise the
|
||
general collaboration, selecting the personnel and giving general
|
||
directions for the co-ordination of the common work.
|
||
|
||
This principle of absolute responsibility is being adopted little by
|
||
little throughout the movement. In the small local groups and perhaps
|
||
also in the regional and district groups it will take yet a long time
|
||
before the principle can be thoroughly imposed, because timid and
|
||
hesitant characters are naturally opposed to it. For them the idea of
|
||
bearing absolute responsibility for an act opens up an unpleasant
|
||
prospect. They would like to hide behind the shoulders of the majority
|
||
in the so-called committee, having their acts covered by decisions
|
||
passed in that way. But it seems to me a matter of absolute necessity to
|
||
take a decisive stand against that view, to make no concessions
|
||
whatsoever to this fear of responsibility, even though it takes some
|
||
time before we can put fully into effect this concept of duty and
|
||
ability in leadership, which will finally bring forward leaders who have
|
||
the requisite abilities to occupy the chief posts.
|
||
|
||
In any case, a movement which must fight against the absurdity of
|
||
parliamentary institutions must be immune from this sort of thing. Only
|
||
thus will it have the requisite strength to carry on the struggle.
|
||
|
||
At a time when the majority dominates everywhere else a movement which
|
||
is based on the principle of one leader who has to bear personal
|
||
responsibility for the direction of the official acts of the movement
|
||
itself will one day overthrow the present situation and triumph over the
|
||
existing regime. That is a mathematical certainty.
|
||
|
||
This idea made it necessary to reorganize our movement internally. The
|
||
logical development of this reorganization brought about a clear-cut
|
||
distinction between the economic section of the movement and the general
|
||
political direction. The principle of personal responsibility was
|
||
extended to all the administrative branches of the party and it brought
|
||
about a healthy renovation, by liberating them from political influences
|
||
and allowing them to operate solely on economic principles.
|
||
|
||
In the autumn of 1921, when the party was founded, there were only six
|
||
members. The party did not have any headquarters, nor officials, nor
|
||
formularies, nor a stamp, nor printed material of any sort. The
|
||
committee first held its sittings in a restaurant on the Herrengasse and
|
||
then in a caf<61> at Gasteig. This state of affairs could not last. So I at
|
||
once took action in the matter. I went around to several restaurants and
|
||
hotels in Munich, with the idea of renting a room in one of them for the
|
||
use of the Party. In the old Sterneckerbr<62>u im Tal, there was a small
|
||
room with arched roof, which in earlier times was used as a sort of
|
||
festive tavern where the Bavarian Counsellors of the Holy Roman Empire
|
||
foregathered. It was dark and dismal and accordingly well suited to its
|
||
ancient uses, though less suited to the new purpose it was now destined
|
||
to serve. The little street on which its one window looked out was so
|
||
narrow that even on the brightest summer day the room remained dim and
|
||
sombre. Here we took up our first fixed abode. The rent came to fifty
|
||
marks per month, which was then an enormous sum for us. But our
|
||
exigencies had to be very modest. We dared not complain even when they
|
||
removed the wooden wainscoting a few days after we had taken possession.
|
||
This panelling had been specially put up for the Imperial Counsellors.
|
||
The place began to look more like a grotto than an office.
|
||
|
||
Still it marked an important step forward. Slowly we had electric light
|
||
installed and later on a telephone. A table and some borrowed chairs
|
||
were brought, an open paper-stand and later on a cupboard. Two
|
||
sideboards, which belonged to the landlord, served to store our
|
||
leaflets, placards, etc.
|
||
|
||
As time went on it turned out impossible to direct the course of the
|
||
movement merely by holding a committee meeting once a week. The current
|
||
business administration of the movement could not be regularly attended
|
||
to except we had a salaried official.
|
||
|
||
But that was then very difficult for us. The movement had still so few
|
||
members that it was hard to find among them a suitable person for the
|
||
job who would be content with very little for himself and at the same
|
||
time would be ready to meet the manifold demands which the movement
|
||
would make on his time and energy.
|
||
|
||
After long searching we discovered a soldier who consented to become our
|
||
first administrator. His name was Sch<63>ssler, an old war comrade of mine.
|
||
At first he came to our new office every day between six and eight
|
||
o'clock in the evening. Later on he came from five to eight and
|
||
subsequently for the whole afternoon. Finally it became a full-time job
|
||
and he worked in the office from morning until late at night. He was an
|
||
industrious, upright and thoroughly honest man, faithful and devoted to
|
||
the movement. He brought with him a small Adler typewriter of his own.
|
||
It was the first machine to be used in the service of the party.
|
||
Subsequently the party bought it by paying for it in installments. We
|
||
needed a small safe in order to keep our papers and register of
|
||
membership from danger of being stolen--not to guard our funds, which
|
||
did not then exist. On the contrary, our financial position was so
|
||
miserable that I often had to dip my hand into my own personal savings.
|
||
|
||
After eighteen months our business quarters had become too small, so we
|
||
moved to a new place in the Cornelius Strasse. Again our office was in a
|
||
restaurant, but instead of one room we now had three smaller rooms and
|
||
one large room with great windows. At that time this appeared a
|
||
wonderful thing to us. We remained there until the end of November 1923.
|
||
|
||
In December 1920, we acquired the V<>LKISCHER BEOBACHTER. This newspaper
|
||
which, as its name implies, championed the claims of the people, was now
|
||
to become the organ of the German National Socialist Labour Party. At
|
||
first it appeared twice weekly; but at the beginning of 1928 it became a
|
||
daily paper, and at the end of August in the same year it began to
|
||
appear in the large format which is now well known.
|
||
|
||
As a complete novice in journalism I then learned many a lesson for
|
||
which I had to pay dearly.
|
||
|
||
In contradistinction to the enormous number of papers in Jewish hands,
|
||
there was at that time only one important newspaper that defended the
|
||
cause of the people. This was a matter for grave consideration. As I
|
||
have often learned by experience, the reason for that state of things
|
||
must be attributed to the incompetent way in which the business side of
|
||
the so-called popular newspapers was managed. These were conducted too
|
||
much according to the rule that opinion should prevail over action that
|
||
produces results. Quite a wrong standpoint, for opinion is of itself
|
||
something internal and finds its best expression in productive activity.
|
||
The man who does valuable work for his people expresses thereby his
|
||
excellent sentiments, whereas another who merely talks about his
|
||
opinions and does nothing that is of real value or use to the people is
|
||
a person who perverts all right thinking. And that attitude of his is
|
||
also pernicious for the community.
|
||
|
||
The V<>LKISCHE BEOBACHTER was a so-called 'popular' organ, as its name
|
||
indicated. It had all the good qualities, but still more the errors and
|
||
weaknesses, inherent in all popular institutions. Though its contents
|
||
were excellent, its management as a business concern was simply
|
||
impossible. Here also the underlying idea was that popular newspapers
|
||
ought to be subsidized by popular contributions, without recognizing
|
||
that it had to make its way in competition with the others and that it
|
||
was dishonest to expect the subscriptions of good patriots to make up
|
||
for the mistaken management of the undertaking.
|
||
|
||
I took care to alter those conditions promptly, for I recognized the
|
||
danger lurking in them. Luck was on my side here, inasmuch as it brought
|
||
me the man who since that time has rendered innumerable services to the
|
||
movement, not only as business manager of the newspaper but also as
|
||
business manager of the party. In 1914, in the War, I made the
|
||
acquaintance of Max Amann, who was then my superior and is to-day
|
||
general business Director of the Party. During four years in the War I
|
||
had occasion to observe almost continually the unusual ability, the
|
||
diligence and the rigorous conscientiousness of my future collaborator.
|
||
|
||
In the summer of 1921 I applied to my old regimental comrade, whom I met
|
||
one day by chance, and asked him to become business manager of the
|
||
movement. At that time the movement was passing through a grave crisis
|
||
and I had reason to be dissatisfied with several of our officials, with
|
||
one of whom I had had a very bitter experience. Amann then held a good
|
||
situation in which there were also good prospects for him.
|
||
|
||
After long hesitation he agreed to my request, but only on condition
|
||
that he must not be at the mercy of incompetent committees. He must be
|
||
responsible to one master, and only one.
|
||
|
||
It is to the inestimable credit of this first business manager of the
|
||
party, whose commercial knowledge is extensive and profound, that he
|
||
brought order and probity into the various offices of the party. Since
|
||
that time these have remained exemplary and cannot be equalled or
|
||
excelled in this by any other branches of the movement. But, as often
|
||
happens in life, great ability provokes envy and disfavour. That had
|
||
also to be expected in this case and borne patiently.
|
||
|
||
Since 1922 rigorous regulations have been in force, not only for the
|
||
commercial construction of the movement but also in the organization of
|
||
it as such. There exists now a central filing system, where the names
|
||
and particulars of all the members are enrolled. The financing of the
|
||
party has been placed on sound lines. The current expenditure must be
|
||
covered by the current receipts and special receipts can be used only
|
||
for special expenditures. Thus, notwithstanding the difficulties of the
|
||
time the movement remained practically without any debts, except for a
|
||
few small current accounts. Indeed, there was a permanent increase in
|
||
the funds. Things are managed as in a private business. The employed
|
||
personnel hold their jobs in virtue of their practical efficiency and
|
||
could not in any manner take cover behind their professed loyalty to the
|
||
party. A good National Socialist proves his soundness by the readiness,
|
||
diligence and capability with which he discharges whatever duties are
|
||
assigned to him in whatever situation he holds within the national
|
||
community. The man who does not fulfil his duty in the job he holds
|
||
cannot boast of a loyalty against which he himself really sins.
|
||
|
||
Adamant against all kinds of outer influence, the new business director
|
||
of the party firmly maintained the standpoint that there were no
|
||
sinecure posts in the party administration for followers and members of
|
||
the movement whose pleasure is not work. A movement which fights so
|
||
energetically against the corruption introduced into our civil service
|
||
by the various political parties must be immune from that vice in its
|
||
own administrative department. It happened that some men were taken on
|
||
the staff of the paper who had formerly been adherents of the Bavarian
|
||
People's Party, but their work showed that they were excellently
|
||
qualified for the job. The result of this experiment was generally
|
||
excellent. It was owing to this honest and frank recognition of
|
||
individual efficiency that the movement won the hearts of its employees
|
||
more swiftly and more profoundly than had ever been the case before.
|
||
Subsequently they became good National Socialists and remained so. Not
|
||
in word only, but they proved it by the steady and honest and
|
||
conscientious work which they performed in the service of the new
|
||
movement. Naturally a well qualified party member was preferred to
|
||
another who had equal qualifications but did not belong to the party.
|
||
The rigid determination with which our new business chief applied these
|
||
principles and gradually put them into force, despite all
|
||
misunderstandings, turned out to be of great advantage to the movement.
|
||
To this we owe the fact that it was possible for us--during the
|
||
difficult period of the inflation, when thousands of businesses failed
|
||
and thousands of newspapers had to cease publication--not only to keep
|
||
the commercial department of the movement going and meet all its
|
||
obligations but also to make steady progress with the V<>LKISCHE
|
||
BEOBACHTER. At that time it came to be ranked among the great
|
||
newspapers.
|
||
|
||
The year 1921 was of further importance for me by reason of the fact
|
||
that in my position as chairman of the party I slowly but steadily
|
||
succeeded in putting a stop to the criticisms and the intrusions of some
|
||
members of the committee in regard to the detailed activities of the
|
||
party administration. This was important, because we could not get a
|
||
capable man to take on a job if nincompoops were constantly allowed to
|
||
butt in, pretending that they knew everything much better; whereas in
|
||
reality they had left only general chaos behind them. Then these
|
||
wise-acres retired, for the most part quite modestly, to seek another
|
||
field for their activities where they could supervise and tell how
|
||
things ought to be done. Some men seemed to have a mania for sniffing
|
||
behind everything and were, so to say, always in a permanent state of
|
||
pregnancy with magnificent plans and ideas and projects and methods.
|
||
Naturally their noble aim and ideal were always the formation of a
|
||
committee which could pretend to be an organ of control in order to be
|
||
able to sniff as experts into the regular work done by others. But it is
|
||
offensive and contrary to the spirit of National Socialism when
|
||
incompetent people constantly interfere in the work of capable persons.
|
||
But these makers of committees do not take that very much into account.
|
||
In those years I felt it my duty to safeguard against such annoyance all
|
||
those who were entrusted with regular and responsible work, so that
|
||
there should be no spying over the shoulder and they would be guaranteed
|
||
a free hand in their day's work.
|
||
|
||
The best means of making committees innocuous, which either did nothing
|
||
or cooked up impracticable decisions, was to give them some real work to
|
||
do. It was then amusing to see how the members would silently fade away
|
||
and were soon nowhere to be found. It made me think of that great
|
||
institution of the same kind, the Reichstag. How quickly they would
|
||
evanesce if they were put to some real work instead of talking,
|
||
especially if each member were made personally responsible for the work
|
||
assigned to him.
|
||
|
||
I always demanded that, just as in private life so also in the movement,
|
||
one should not tire of seeking until the best and honestest and
|
||
manifestly the most competent person could be found for the position of
|
||
leader or administrator in each section of the movement. Once installed
|
||
in his position he was given absolute authority and full freedom of
|
||
action towards his subordinates and full responsibility towards his
|
||
superiors. Nobody was placed in a position of authority towards his
|
||
subordinates unless he himself was competent in the work entrusted to
|
||
them. In the course of two years I brought my views more and more into
|
||
practice; so that to-day, at least as far as the higher direction of the
|
||
movement is concerned, they are accepted as a matter of course.
|
||
|
||
The manifest success of this attitude was shown on November 9th, 1923.
|
||
Four years previously, when I entered the movement, it did not have even
|
||
a rubber stamp. On November 9th, 1923, the party was dissolved and its
|
||
property confiscated. The total sum realized by all the objects of value
|
||
and the paper amounted to more than 170,000 gold marks.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
CHAPTER XII
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
THE PROBLEM OF THE TRADE UNIONS
|
||
|
||
|
||
Owing to the rapid growth of the movement, in 1922 we felt compelled to
|
||
take a definite stand on a question which has not been fully solved even
|
||
yet.
|
||
|
||
In our efforts to discover the quickest and easiest way for the movement
|
||
to reach the heart of the broad masses we were always confronted with
|
||
the objection that the worker could never completely belong to us while
|
||
his interests in the purely vocational and economic sphere were cared
|
||
for by a political organization conducted by men whose principles were
|
||
quite different from ours.
|
||
|
||
That was quite a serious objection. The general belief was that a
|
||
workman engaged in some trade or other could not exist if he did not
|
||
belong to a trade union. Not only were his professional interests thus
|
||
protected but a guarantee of permanent employment was simply
|
||
inconceivable without membership in a trade union. The majority of the
|
||
workers were in the trades unions. Generally speaking, the unions had
|
||
successfully conducted the battle for the establishment of a definite
|
||
scale of wages and had concluded agreements which guaranteed the worker
|
||
a steady income. Undoubtedly the workers in the various trades benefited
|
||
by the results of that campaign and, for honest men especially,
|
||
conflicts of conscience must have arisen if they took the wages which
|
||
had been assured through the struggle fought by the trades unions and if
|
||
at the same time the men themselves withdrew from the fight.
|
||
|
||
It was difficult to discuss this problem with the average bourgeois
|
||
employer. He had no understanding (or did not wish to have any) for
|
||
either the material or moral side of the question. Finally he declared
|
||
that his own economic interests were in principle opposed to every kind
|
||
of organization which joined together the workmen that were dependent on
|
||
him. Hence it was for the most part impossible to bring these bourgeois
|
||
employers to take an impartial view of the situation. Here, therefore,
|
||
as in so many other cases, it was necessary to appeal to disinterested
|
||
outsiders who would not be subject to the temptation of fixing their
|
||
attention on the trees and failing to see the forest. With a little good
|
||
will on their part, they could much more easily understand a state of
|
||
affairs which is of the highest importance for our present and future
|
||
existence.
|
||
|
||
In the first volume of this book I have already expressed my views on
|
||
the nature and purpose and necessity of trade unions. There I took up
|
||
the standpoint that unless measures are undertaken by the State (usually
|
||
futile in such cases) or a new ideal is introduced in our education,
|
||
which would change the attitude of the employer towards the worker, no
|
||
other course would be open to the latter except to defend his own
|
||
interests himself by appealing to his equal rights as a contracting
|
||
party within the economic sphere of the nation's existence. I stated
|
||
further that this would conform to the interests of the national
|
||
community if thereby social injustices could be redressed which
|
||
otherwise would cause serious damage to the whole social structure. I
|
||
stated, moreover, that the worker would always find it necessary to
|
||
undertake this protective action as long as there were men among the
|
||
employers who had no sense of their social obligations nor even of the
|
||
most elementary human rights. And I concluded by saying that if such
|
||
self-defence be considered necessary its form ought to be that of an
|
||
association made up of the workers themselves on the basis of trades
|
||
unions.
|
||
|
||
This was my general idea and it remained the same in 1922. But a clear
|
||
and precise formula was still to be discovered. We could not be
|
||
satisfied with merely understanding the problem. It was necessary to
|
||
come to some conclusions that could be put into practice. The following
|
||
questions had to be answered:
|
||
|
||
(1) Are trade unions necessary?
|
||
|
||
(2) Should the German National Socialist Labour Party itself operate on
|
||
a trade unionist basis or have its members take part in trade unionist
|
||
activities in some form or other?
|
||
|
||
(3) What form should a National Socialist Trades Union take? What are
|
||
the tasks confronting us and the ends we must try to attain?
|
||
|
||
(4) How can we establish trade unions for such tasks and aims?
|
||
|
||
I think that I have already answered the first question adequately. In
|
||
the present state of affairs I am convinced that we cannot possibly
|
||
dispense with the trades unions. On the contrary, they are among the
|
||
most important institutions in the economic life of the nation. Not only
|
||
are they important in the sphere of social policy but also, and even
|
||
more so, in the national political sphere. For when the great masses of
|
||
a nation see their vital needs satisfied through a just trade unionist
|
||
movement the stamina of the whole nation in its struggle for existence
|
||
will be enormously reinforced thereby.
|
||
|
||
Before everything else, the trades unions are necessary as building
|
||
stones for the future economic parliament, which will be made up of
|
||
chambers representing the various professions and occupations.
|
||
|
||
The second question is also easy to answer. If the trade unionist
|
||
movement is important, then it is clear that National Socialism ought to
|
||
take a definite stand on that question, not only theoretically but also
|
||
in practice. But how? That is more difficult to see clearly.
|
||
|
||
The National Socialist Movement, which aims at establishing the National
|
||
Socialist People's State, must always bear steadfastly in mind the
|
||
principle that every future institution under that State must be rooted
|
||
in the movement itself. It is a great mistake to believe that by
|
||
acquiring possession of supreme political power we can bring about a
|
||
definite reorganization, suddenly starting from nothing, without the
|
||
help of a certain reserve stock of men who have been trained beforehand,
|
||
especially in the spirit of the movement. Here also the principle holds
|
||
good that the spirit is always more important than the external form
|
||
which it animates; since this form can be created mechanically and
|
||
quickly. For instance, the leadership principle may be imposed on an
|
||
organized political community in a dictatorial way. But this principle
|
||
can become a living reality only by passing through the stages that are
|
||
necessary for its own evolution. These stages lead from the smallest
|
||
cell of the State organism upwards. As its bearers and representatives,
|
||
the leadership principle must have a body of men who have passed through
|
||
a process of selection lasting over several years, who have been
|
||
tempered by the hard realities of life and thus rendered capable of
|
||
carrying the principle into practical effect.
|
||
|
||
It is out of the question to think that a scheme for the Constitution of
|
||
a State can be pulled out of a portfolio at a moment's notice and
|
||
'introduced' by imperative orders from above. One may try that kind of
|
||
thing but the result will always be something that has not sufficient
|
||
vitality to endure. It will be like a stillborn infant. The idea of it
|
||
calls to mind the origin of the Weimar Constitution and the attempt to
|
||
impose on the German people a new Constitution and a new flag, neither
|
||
of which had any inner relation to the vicissitudes of our people's
|
||
history during the last half century.
|
||
|
||
The National Socialist State must guard against all such experiments. It
|
||
must grow out of an organization which has already existed for a long
|
||
time. This organization must possess National Socialist life in itself,
|
||
so that finally it may be able to establish a National Socialist State
|
||
that will be a living reality.
|
||
|
||
As I have already said, the germ cells of this State must lie in the
|
||
administrative chambers which will represent the various occupations and
|
||
professions, therefore first of all in the trades unions. If this
|
||
subsequent vocational representation and the Central Economic Parliament
|
||
are to be National Socialist institutions, these important germ cells
|
||
must be vehicles of the National Socialist concept of life. The
|
||
institutions of the movement are to be brought over into the State; for
|
||
the State cannot call into existence all of a sudden and as if by magic
|
||
those institutions which are necessary to its existence, unless it
|
||
wishes to have institutions that are bound to remain completely
|
||
lifeless.
|
||
|
||
Looking at the matter from the highest standpoint, the National
|
||
Socialist Movement will have to recognize the necessity of adopting its
|
||
own trade-unionist policy.
|
||
|
||
It must do this for a further reason, namely because a real National
|
||
Socialist education for the employer as well as for the employee, in the
|
||
spirit of a mutual co-operation within the common framework of the
|
||
national community, cannot be secured by theoretical instruction,
|
||
appeals and exhortations, but through the struggles of daily life. In
|
||
this spirit and through this spirit the movement must educate the
|
||
several large economic groups and bring them closer to one another under
|
||
a wider outlook. Without this preparatory work it would be sheer
|
||
illusion to hope that a real national community can be brought into
|
||
existence. The great ideal represented by its philosophy of life and for
|
||
which the movement fights can alone form a general style of thought
|
||
steadily and slowly. And this style will show that the new state of
|
||
things rests on foundations that are internally sound and not merely an
|
||
external fa<66>ade.
|
||
|
||
Hence the movement must adopt a positive attitude towards the
|
||
trade-unionist idea. But it must go further than this. For the enormous
|
||
number of members and followers of the trade-unionist movement it must
|
||
provide a practical education which will meet the exigencies of the
|
||
coming National Socialist State.
|
||
|
||
The answer to the third question follows from what has been already
|
||
said.
|
||
|
||
The National Socialist Trades Union is not an instrument for class
|
||
warfare, but a representative organ of the various occupations and
|
||
callings. The National Socialist State recognizes no 'classes'. But,
|
||
under the political aspect, it recognizes only citizens with absolutely
|
||
equal rights and equal obligations corresponding thereto. And, side by
|
||
side with these, it recognizes subjects of the State who have no
|
||
political rights whatsoever.
|
||
|
||
According to the National Socialist concept, it is not the task of the
|
||
trades union to band together certain men within the national community
|
||
and thus gradually transform these men into a class, so as to use them
|
||
in a conflict against other groups similarly organized within the
|
||
national community. We certainly cannot assign this task to the trades
|
||
union as such. This was the task assigned to it the moment it became a
|
||
fighting weapon in the hands of the Marxists. The trades union is not
|
||
naturally an instrument of class warfare; but the Marxists transformed
|
||
it into an instrument for use in their own class struggle. They created
|
||
the economic weapon which the international Jew uses for the purpose of
|
||
destroying the economic foundations of free and independent national
|
||
States, for ruining their national industry and trade and thereby
|
||
enslaving free nations to serve Jewish world-finance, which transcends
|
||
all State boundaries.
|
||
|
||
In contradistinction to this, the National Socialist Trades Union must
|
||
organize definite groups and those who participate in the economic life
|
||
of the nation and thus enhance the security of the national economic
|
||
system itself, reinforcing it by the elimination of all those anomalies
|
||
which ultimately exercise a destructive influence on the social body of
|
||
the nation, damaging the vital forces of the national community,
|
||
prejudicing the welfare of the State and, by no means as a last
|
||
consequence, bringing evil and destruction on economic life itself.
|
||
|
||
Therefore in the hands of the National Socialist Trades Union the strike
|
||
is not an instrument for disturbing and dislocating the national
|
||
production, but for increasing it and making it run smoothly, by
|
||
fighting against all those annoyances which by reason of their unsocial
|
||
character hinder efficiency in business and thereby hamper the existence
|
||
of the whole nation. For individual efficiency stands always in casual
|
||
relation to the general social and juridical position of the individual
|
||
in the economic process. Individual efficiency is also the sole root of
|
||
the conviction that the economic prosperity of the nation must
|
||
necessarily redound to the benefit of the individual citizen.
|
||
|
||
The National Socialist employee will have to recognize the fact that the
|
||
economic prosperity of the nation brings with it his own material
|
||
happiness.
|
||
|
||
The National Socialist employer must recognize that the happiness and
|
||
contentment of his employees are necessary pre-requisites for the
|
||
existence and development of his own economic prosperity.
|
||
|
||
National Socialist workers and employers are both together the delegates
|
||
and mandatories of the whole national community. The large measure of
|
||
personal freedom which is accorded to them for their activities must be
|
||
explained by the fact that experience has shown that the productive
|
||
powers of the individual are more enhanced by being accorded a generous
|
||
measure of freedom than by coercion from above. Moreover, by according
|
||
this freedom we give free play to the natural process of selection which
|
||
brings forward the ablest and most capable and most industrious. For the
|
||
National Socialist Trades Union, therefore, the strike is a means that
|
||
may, and indeed must, be resorted to as long as there is not a National
|
||
Socialist State yet. But when that State is established it will, as a
|
||
matter of course, abolish the mass struggle between the two great groups
|
||
made up of employers and employees respectively, a struggle which has
|
||
always resulted in lessening the national production and injuring the
|
||
national community. In place of this struggle, the National Socialist
|
||
State will take over the task of caring for and defending the rights of
|
||
all parties concerned. It will be the duty of the Economic Chamber
|
||
itself to keep the national economic system in smooth working order and
|
||
to remove whatever defects or errors it may suffer from. Questions that
|
||
are now fought over through a quarrel that involves millions of people
|
||
will then be settled in the Representative Chambers of Trades and
|
||
Professions and in the Central Economic Parliament. Thus employers and
|
||
employees will no longer find themselves drawn into a mutual conflict
|
||
over wages and hours of work, always to the detriment of their mutual
|
||
interests. But they will solve these problems together on a higher
|
||
plane, where the welfare of the national community and of the State will
|
||
be as a shining ideal to throw light on all their negotiations.
|
||
|
||
Here again, as everywhere else, the inflexible principle must be
|
||
observed, that the interests of the country must come before party
|
||
interests.
|
||
|
||
The task of the National Socialist Trades Union will be to educate and
|
||
prepare its members to conform to these ideals. That task may be stated
|
||
as follows: All must work together for the maintenance and security of
|
||
our people and the People's State, each one according to the abilities
|
||
and powers with which Nature has endowed him and which have been
|
||
developed and trained by the national community.
|
||
|
||
Our fourth question was: How shall we establish trades unions for such
|
||
tasks and aims? That is far more difficult to answer.
|
||
|
||
Generally speaking, it is easier to establish something in new territory
|
||
than in old territory which already has its established institutions. In
|
||
a district where there is no existing business of a special character
|
||
one can easily establish a new business of this character. But it is
|
||
more difficult if the same kind of enterprise already exists and it is
|
||
most difficult of all when the conditions are such that only one
|
||
enterprise of this kind can prosper. For here the promoters of the new
|
||
enterprise find themselves confronted not only with the problem of
|
||
introducing their own business but also that of how to bring about the
|
||
destruction of the other business already existing in the district, so
|
||
that the new enterprise may be able to exist.
|
||
|
||
It would be senseless to have a National Socialist Trades Union side by
|
||
side with other trades unions. For this Trades Union must be thoroughly
|
||
imbued with a feeling for the ideological nature of its task and of the
|
||
resulting obligation not to tolerate other similar or hostile
|
||
institutions. It must also insist that itself alone is necessary, to the
|
||
exclusion of all the rest. It can come to no arrangement and no
|
||
compromise with kindred tendencies but must assert its own absolute and
|
||
exclusive right.
|
||
|
||
There were two ways which might lead to such a development:
|
||
|
||
(1) We could establish our Trades Union and then gradually take up the
|
||
fight against the Marxist International Trades Union.
|
||
|
||
(2) Or we could enter the Marxist Trades Union and inculcate a new
|
||
spirit in it, with the idea of transforming it into an instrument in the
|
||
service of the new ideal.
|
||
|
||
The first way was not advisable, by reason of the fact that our
|
||
financial situation was still the cause of much worry to us at that time
|
||
and our resources were quite slender. The effects of the inflation were
|
||
steadily spreading and made the particular situation still more
|
||
difficult for us, because in those years one could scarcely speak of any
|
||
material help which the trades unions could extend to their members.
|
||
From this point of view, there was no reason why the individual worker
|
||
should pay his dues to the union. Even the Marxist unions then existing
|
||
were already on the point of collapse until, as the result of Herr
|
||
Cuno's enlightened Ruhr policy, millions were suddenly poured into their
|
||
coffers. This so-called 'national' Chancellor of the REICH should go
|
||
down in history as the Redeemer of the Marxist trades unions.
|
||
|
||
We could not count on similar financial facilities. And nobody could be
|
||
induced to enter a new Trades Union which, on account of its financial
|
||
weakness, could not offer him the slightest material benefit. On the
|
||
other hand, I felt bound absolutely to guard against the creation of
|
||
such an organization which would only be a shelter for shirkers of the
|
||
more or less intellectual type.
|
||
|
||
At that time the question of personnel played the most important role. I
|
||
did not have a single man whom I might call upon to carry out this
|
||
important task. Whoever could have succeeded at that time in
|
||
overthrowing the Marxist unions to make way for the triumph of the
|
||
National Socialist corporative idea, which would then take the place of
|
||
the ruinous class warfare--such a person would be fit to rank with the
|
||
very greatest men our nation has produced and his bust should be
|
||
installed in the Valhalla at Regensburg for the admiration of posterity.
|
||
|
||
But I knew of no person who could qualify for such a pedestal.
|
||
|
||
In this connection we must not be led astray by the fact that the
|
||
international trades unions are conducted by men of only mediocre
|
||
significance, for when those unions were founded there was nothing else
|
||
of a similar kind already in existence. To-day the National Socialist
|
||
Movement must fight against a monster organization which has existed for
|
||
a long time, rests on gigantic foundations and is carefully constructed
|
||
even in the smallest details. An assailant must always exercise more
|
||
intelligence than the defender, if he is to overthrow the latter. The
|
||
Marxist trade-unionist citadel may be governed to-day by mediocre
|
||
leaders, but it cannot be taken by assault except through the dauntless
|
||
energy and genius of a superior leader on the other side. If such a
|
||
leader cannot be found it is futile to struggle with Fate and even more
|
||
foolish to try to overthrow the existing state of things without being
|
||
able to construct a better in its place.
|
||
|
||
Here one must apply the maxim that in life it is often better to allow
|
||
something to go by the board rather than try to half do it or do it
|
||
badly, owing to a lack of suitable means.
|
||
|
||
To this we must add another consideration, which is not at all of a
|
||
demagogic character. At that time I had, and I still have to-day, a
|
||
firmly rooted conviction that when one is engaged in a great ideological
|
||
struggle in the political field it would be a grave mistake to mix up
|
||
economic questions with this struggle in its earlier stages. This
|
||
applies particularly to our German people. For if such were to happen in
|
||
their case the economic struggle would immediately distract the energy
|
||
necessary for the political fight. Once the people are brought to
|
||
believe that they can buy a little house with their savings they will
|
||
devote themselves to the task of increasing their savings and no spare
|
||
time will be left to them for the political struggle against those who,
|
||
in one way or another, will one day secure possession of the pennies
|
||
that have been saved. Instead of participating in the political conflict
|
||
on behalf of the opinions and convictions which they have been brought
|
||
to accept they will now go further with their 'settlement' idea and in
|
||
the end they will find themselves for the most part sitting on the
|
||
ground amidst all the stools.
|
||
|
||
To-day the National Socialist Movement is at the beginning of its
|
||
struggle. In great part it must first of all shape and develop its
|
||
ideals. It must employ every ounce of its energy in the struggle to have
|
||
its great ideal accepted, and the success of this effort is not
|
||
conceivable unless the combined energies of the movement be entirely at
|
||
the service of this struggle.
|
||
|
||
To-day we have a classical example of how the active strength of a
|
||
people becomes paralysed when that people is too much taken up with
|
||
purely economic problems.
|
||
|
||
The Revolution which took place in November 1918 was not made by the
|
||
trades unions, but it was carried out in spite of them. And the people
|
||
of Germany did not wage any political fight for the future of their
|
||
country because they thought that the future could be sufficiently
|
||
secured by constructive work in the economic field.
|
||
|
||
We must learn a lesson from this experience, because in our case the
|
||
same thing must happen under the same circumstances. The more the
|
||
combined strength of our movement is concentrated in the political
|
||
struggle, the more confidently may we count on being successful along
|
||
our whole front. But if we busy ourselves prematurely with trade
|
||
unionist problems, settlement problems, etc., it will be to the
|
||
disadvantage of our own cause, taken as a whole. For, though these
|
||
problems may be important, they cannot be solved in an adequate manner
|
||
until we have political power in our hand and are able to use it in the
|
||
service of this idea. Until that day comes these problems can have only
|
||
a paralysing effect on the movement. And if it takes them up too soon
|
||
they will only be a hindrance in the effort to attain its own
|
||
ideological aims. It may then easily happen that trade unionist
|
||
considerations will control the political direction of the movement,
|
||
instead of the ideological aims of the movement directing the way that
|
||
the trades unions are to take.
|
||
|
||
The movement and the nation can derive advantage from a National
|
||
Socialist trade unionist organization only if the latter be so
|
||
thoroughly inspired by National Socialist ideas that it runs no danger
|
||
of falling into step behind the Marxist movement. For a National
|
||
Socialist Trades Union which would consider itself only as a competitor
|
||
against the Marxist unions would be worse than none. It must declare war
|
||
against the Marxist Trades Union, not only as an organization but, above
|
||
all, as an idea. It must declare itself hostile to the idea of class and
|
||
class warfare and, in place of this, it must declare itself as the
|
||
defender of the various occupational and professional interests of the
|
||
German people.
|
||
|
||
Considered from all these points of view it was not then advisable, nor
|
||
is it yet advisable, to think of founding our own Trades Union. That
|
||
seemed clear to me, at least until somebody appeared who was obviously
|
||
called by fate to solve this particular problem.
|
||
|
||
Therefore there remained only two possible ways. Either to recommend our
|
||
own party members to leave the trades unions in which they were enrolled
|
||
or to remain in them for the moment, with the idea of causing as much
|
||
destruction in them as possible.
|
||
|
||
In general, I recommended the latter alternative.
|
||
|
||
Especially in the year 1922-23 we could easily do that. For, during the
|
||
period of inflation, the financial advantages which might be reaped from
|
||
a trades union organization would be negligible, because we could expect
|
||
to enroll only a few members owing to the undeveloped condition of our
|
||
movement. The damage which might result from such a policy was all the
|
||
greater because its bitterest critics and opponents were to be found
|
||
among the followers of the National Socialist Party.
|
||
|
||
I had already entirely discountenanced all experiments which were
|
||
destined from the very beginning to be unsuccessful. I would have
|
||
considered it criminal to run the risk of depriving a worker of his
|
||
scant earnings in order to help an organization which, according to my
|
||
inner conviction, could not promise real advantages to its members.
|
||
|
||
Should a new political party fade out of existence one day nobody would
|
||
be injured thereby and some would have profited, but none would have a
|
||
right to complain. For what each individual contributes to a political
|
||
movement is given with the idea that it may ultimately come to nothing.
|
||
But the man who pays his dues to a trade union has the right to expect
|
||
some guarantee in return. If this is not done, then the directors of
|
||
such a trade union are swindlers or at least careless people who ought
|
||
to be brought to a sense of their responsibilities.
|
||
|
||
We took all these viewpoints into consideration before making our
|
||
decision in 1922. Others thought otherwise and founded trades unions.
|
||
They upbraided us for being short-sighted and failing to see into the
|
||
future. But it did not take long for these organizations to disappear
|
||
and the result was what would have happened in our own case. But the
|
||
difference was that we should have deceived neither ourselves nor those
|
||
who believed in us.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
CHAPTER XIII
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
THE GERMAN POST-WAR POLICY OF ALLIANCES
|
||
|
||
|
||
The erratic manner in which the foreign affairs of the REICH were
|
||
conducted was due to a lack of sound guiding principles for the
|
||
formation of practical and useful alliances. Not only was this state of
|
||
affairs continued after the Revolution, but it became even worse.
|
||
|
||
For the confused state of our political ideas in general before the War
|
||
may be looked upon as the chief cause of our defective statesmanship;
|
||
but in the post-War period this cause must be attributed to a lack of
|
||
honest intentions. It was natural that those parties who had fully
|
||
achieved their destructive purpose by means of the Revolution should
|
||
feel that it would not serve their interests if a policy of alliances
|
||
were adopted which must ultimately result in the restoration of a free
|
||
German State. A development in this direction would not be in conformity
|
||
with the purposes of the November crime. It would have interrupted and
|
||
indeed put an end to the internationalization of German national economy
|
||
and German Labour. But what was feared most of all was that a successful
|
||
effort to make the REICH independent of foreign countries might have an
|
||
influence in domestic politics which one day would turn out disastrous
|
||
for those who now hold supreme power in the government of the REICH. One
|
||
cannot imagine the revival of a nation unless that revival be preceded
|
||
by a process of nationalization. Conversely, every important success in
|
||
the field of foreign politics must call forth a favourable reaction at
|
||
home. Experience proves that every struggle for liberty increases the
|
||
national sentiment and national self-consciousness and therewith gives
|
||
rise to a keener sensibility towards anti-national elements and
|
||
tendencies. A state of things, and persons also, that may be tolerated
|
||
and even pass unnoticed in times of peace will not only become the
|
||
object of aversion when national enthusiasm is aroused but will even
|
||
provoke positive opposition, which frequently turns out disastrous for
|
||
them. In this connection we may recall the spy-scare that became
|
||
prevalent when the war broke out, when human passion suddenly manifested
|
||
itself to such a heightened degree as to lead to the most brutal
|
||
persecutions, often without any justifiable grounds, although everybody
|
||
knew that the danger resulting from spies is greater during the long
|
||
periods of peace; but, for obvious reasons, they do not then attract a
|
||
similar amount of public attention. For this reason the subtle instinct
|
||
of the State parasites who came to the surface of the national body
|
||
through the November happenings makes them feel at once that a policy of
|
||
alliances which would restore the freedom of our people and awaken
|
||
national sentiment might possibly ruin their own criminal existence.
|
||
|
||
Thus we may explain the fact that since 1918 the men who have held the
|
||
reins of government adopted an entirely negative attitude towards
|
||
foreign affairs and that the business of the State has been almost
|
||
constantly conducted in a systematic way against the interests of the
|
||
German nation. For that which at first sight seemed a matter of chance
|
||
proved, on closer examination, to be a logical advance along the road
|
||
which was first publicly entered upon by the November Revolution of
|
||
1918.
|
||
|
||
Undoubtedly a distinction ought to be made between (1) the responsible
|
||
administrators of our affairs of State, or rather those who ought to be
|
||
responsible; (2) the average run of our parliamentary politicasters, and
|
||
(3) the masses of our people, whose sheepish docility corresponds to
|
||
their want of intelligence.
|
||
|
||
The first know what they want. The second fall into line with them,
|
||
either because they have been already schooled in what is afoot or
|
||
because they have not the courage to take an uncompromising stand
|
||
against a course which they know and feel to be detrimental. The third
|
||
just submit to it because they are too stupid to understand.
|
||
|
||
While the German National Socialist Labour Party was only a small and
|
||
practically unknown society, problems of foreign policy could have only
|
||
a secondary importance in the eyes of many of its members. This was the
|
||
case especially because our movement has always proclaimed the
|
||
principle, and must proclaim it, that the freedom of the country in its
|
||
foreign relations is not a gift that will be bestowed upon us by Heaven
|
||
or by any earthly Powers, but can only be the fruit of a development of
|
||
our inner forces. We must first root out the causes which led to our
|
||
collapse and we must eliminate all those who are profiting by that
|
||
collapse. Then we shall be in a position to take up the fight for the
|
||
restoration of our freedom in the management of our foreign relations.
|
||
|
||
It will be easily understood therefore why we did not attach so much
|
||
importance to foreign affairs during the early stages of our young
|
||
movement, but preferred to concentrate on the problem of internal
|
||
reform.
|
||
|
||
But when the small and insignificant society expanded and finally grew
|
||
too large for its first framework, the young organization assumed the
|
||
importance of a great association and we then felt it incumbent on us to
|
||
take a definite stand on problems regarding the development of a foreign
|
||
policy. It was necessary to lay down the main lines of action which
|
||
would not only be in accord with the fundamental ideas of our
|
||
WELTANSCHAUUNG but would actually be an expansion of it in the
|
||
practical world of foreign affairs.
|
||
|
||
Just because our people have had no political education in matters
|
||
concerning our relations abroad, it was necessary to teach the leaders
|
||
in the various sections of our movement, and also the masses of the
|
||
people, the chief principles which ought to guide the development of our
|
||
foreign relations. That was one of the first tasks to be accomplished in
|
||
order to prepare the ground for the practical carrying out of a foreign
|
||
policy which would win back the independence of the nation in managing
|
||
its external affairs and thus restore the real sovereignty of the REICH.
|
||
|
||
The fundamental and guiding principles which we must always bear in mind
|
||
when studying this question is that foreign policy is only a means to an
|
||
end and that the sole end to be pursued is the welfare of our own
|
||
people. Every problem in foreign politics must be considered from this
|
||
point of view, and this point of view alone. Shall such and such a
|
||
solution prove advantageous to our people now or in the future, or will
|
||
it injure their interests? That is the question.
|
||
|
||
This is the sole preoccupation that must occupy our minds in dealing
|
||
with a question. Party politics, religious considerations, humanitarian
|
||
ideals--all such and all other preoccupations must absolutely give way
|
||
to this.
|
||
|
||
Before the War the purpose to which German foreign policy should have
|
||
been devoted was to assure the supply of material necessities for the
|
||
maintenance of our people and their children. And the way should have
|
||
been prepared which would lead to this goal. Alliances should have been
|
||
established which would have proved beneficial to us from this point of
|
||
view and would have brought us the necessary auxiliary support. The task
|
||
to be accomplished is the same to-day, but with this difference: In
|
||
pre-War times it was a question of caring for the maintenance of the
|
||
German people, backed up by the power which a strong and independent
|
||
State then possessed, but our task to-day is to make our nation powerful
|
||
once again by re-establishing a strong and independent State. The
|
||
re-establishment of such a State is the prerequisite and necessary
|
||
condition which must be fulfilled in order that we may be able
|
||
subsequently to put into practice a foreign policy which will serve to
|
||
guarantee the existence of our people in the future, fulfilling their
|
||
needs and furnishing them with those necessities of life which they
|
||
lack. In other words, the aim which Germany ought to pursue to-day in
|
||
her foreign policy is to prepare the way for the recovery of her liberty
|
||
to-morrow. In this connection there is a fundamental principle which we
|
||
must keep steadily before our minds. It is this: The possibility of
|
||
winning back the independence of a nation is not absolutely bound up
|
||
with the question of territorial reintegration but it will suffice if a
|
||
small remnant, no matter how small, of this nation and State will exist,
|
||
provided it possesses the necessary independence to become not only the
|
||
vehicle of' the common spirit of the whole people but also to prepare
|
||
the way for the military fight to reconquer the nation's liberty.
|
||
|
||
When a people who amount to a hundred million souls tolerate the yoke of
|
||
common slavery in order to prevent the territory belonging to their
|
||
State from being broken up and divided, that is worse than if such a
|
||
State and such a people were dismembered while one fragment still
|
||
retained its complete independence. Of course, the natural proviso here
|
||
is that this fragment must be inspired with a consciousness of the
|
||
solemn duty that devolves upon it, not only to proclaim persistently the
|
||
inviolable unity of its spiritual and cultural life with that of its
|
||
detached members but also to prepare the means that are necessary for
|
||
the military conflict which will finally liberate and re-unite the
|
||
fragments that are suffering under oppression.
|
||
|
||
One must also bear in mind the fact that the restoration of lost
|
||
districts which were formerly parts of the State, both ethnically and
|
||
politically, must in the first instance be a question of winning back
|
||
political power and independence for the motherland itself, and that in
|
||
such cases the special interests of the lost districts must be
|
||
uncompromisingly regarded as a matter of secondary importance in the
|
||
face of the one main task, which is to win back the freedom of the
|
||
central territory. For the detached and oppressed fragments of a nation
|
||
or an imperial province cannot achieve their liberation through the
|
||
expression of yearnings and protests on the part of the oppressed and
|
||
abandoned, but only when the portion which has more or less retained its
|
||
sovereign independence can resort to the use of force for the purpose of
|
||
reconquering those territories that once belonged to the common
|
||
fatherland.
|
||
|
||
Therefore, in order to reconquer lost territories the first condition to
|
||
be fulfilled is to work energetically for the increased welfare and
|
||
reinforcement of the strength of that portion of the State which has
|
||
remained over after the partition. Thus the unquenchable yearning which
|
||
slumbers in the hearts of the people must be awakened and restrengthened
|
||
by bringing new forces to its aid, so that when the hour comes all will
|
||
be devoted to the one purpose of liberating and uniting the whole
|
||
people. Therefore, the interests of the separated territories must be
|
||
subordinated to the one purpose. That one purpose must aim at obtaining
|
||
for the central remaining portion such a measure of power and might that
|
||
will enable it to enforce its will on the hostile will of the victor and
|
||
thus redress the wrong. For flaming protests will not restore the
|
||
oppressed territories to the bosom of a common REICH. That can be done
|
||
only through the might of the sword.
|
||
|
||
The forging of this sword is a work that has to be done through the
|
||
domestic policy which must be adopted by a national government. To see
|
||
that the work of forging these arms is assured, and to recruit the men
|
||
who will bear them, that is the task of the foreign policy.
|
||
|
||
In the first volume of this book I discussed the inadequacy of our
|
||
policy of alliances before the War. There were four possible ways to
|
||
secure the necessary foodstuffs for the maintenance of our people. Of
|
||
these ways the fourth, which was the most unfavourable, was chosen.
|
||
Instead of a sound policy of territorial expansion in Europe, our rulers
|
||
embarked on a policy of colonial and trade expansion. That policy was
|
||
all the more mistaken inasmuch as they presumed that in this way the
|
||
danger of an armed conflict would be averted. The result of the attempt
|
||
to sit on many stools at the same time might have been foreseen. It let
|
||
us fall to the ground in the midst of them all. And the World War was
|
||
only the last reckoning presented to the REICH to pay for the failure of
|
||
its foreign policy.
|
||
|
||
The right way that should have been taken in those days was the third
|
||
way I indicated: namely, to increase the strength of the REICH as a
|
||
Continental Power by the acquisition of new territory in Europe. And at
|
||
the same time a further expansion, through the subsequent acquisition of
|
||
colonial territory, might thus be brought within the range of practical
|
||
politics. Of course, this policy could not have been carried through
|
||
except in alliance with England, or by devoting such abnormal efforts to
|
||
the increase of military force and armament that, for forty or fifty
|
||
years, all cultural undertakings would have to be completely relegated
|
||
to the background. This responsibility might very well have been
|
||
undertaken. The cultural importance of a nation is almost always
|
||
dependent on its political freedom and independence. Political freedom
|
||
is a prerequisite condition for the existence, or rather the creation,
|
||
of great cultural undertakings. Accordingly no sacrifice can be too
|
||
great when there is question of securing the political freedom of a
|
||
nation. What might have to be deducted from the budget expenses for
|
||
cultural purposes, in order to meet abnormal demands for increasing the
|
||
military power of the State, can be generously paid back later on.
|
||
Indeed, it may be said that after a State has concentrated all its
|
||
resources in one effort for the purpose of securing its political
|
||
independence a certain period of ease and renewed equilibrium sets in.
|
||
And it often happens that the cultural spirit of the nation, which had
|
||
been heretofore cramped and confined, now suddenly blooms forth. Thus
|
||
Greece experienced the great Periclean era after the miseries it had
|
||
suffered during the Persian Wars. And the Roman Republic turned its
|
||
energies to the cultivation of a higher civilization when it was freed
|
||
from the stress and worry of the Punic Wars.
|
||
|
||
Of course, it could not be expected that a parliamentary majority of
|
||
feckless and stupid people would be capable of deciding on such a
|
||
resolute policy for the absolute subordination of all other national
|
||
interests to the one sole task of preparing for a future conflict of
|
||
arms which would result in establishing the security of the State. The
|
||
father of Frederick the Great sacrificed everything in order to be ready
|
||
for that conflict; but the fathers of our absurd parliamentarian
|
||
democracy, with the Jewish hall-mark, could not do it.
|
||
|
||
That is why, in pre-War times, the military preparation necessary to
|
||
enable us to conquer new territory in Europe was only very mediocre, so
|
||
that it was difficult to obtain the support of really helpful allies.
|
||
|
||
Those who directed our foreign affairs would not entertain even the idea
|
||
of systematically preparing for war. They rejected every plan for the
|
||
acquisition of territory in Europe. And by preferring a policy of
|
||
colonial and trade expansion, they sacrificed the alliance with England,
|
||
which was then possible. At the same time they neglected to seek the
|
||
support of Russia, which would have been a logical proceeding. Finally
|
||
they stumbled into the World War, abandoned by all except the
|
||
ill-starred Habsburgs.
|
||
|
||
The characteristic of our present foreign policy is that it follows no
|
||
discernible or even intelligible lines of action. Whereas before the War
|
||
a mistake was made in taking the fourth way that I have mentioned, and
|
||
this was pursued only in a halfhearted manner, since the Revolution not
|
||
even the sharpest eye can detect any way that is being followed. Even
|
||
more than before the War, there is absolutely no such thing as a
|
||
systematic plan, except the systematic attempts that are made to destroy
|
||
the last possibility of a national revival.
|
||
|
||
If we make an impartial examination of the situation existing in Europe
|
||
to-day as far as concerns the relation of the various Powers to one
|
||
another, we shall arrive at the following results:
|
||
|
||
For the past three hundred years the history of our Continent has been
|
||
definitely determined by England's efforts to keep the European States
|
||
opposed to one another in an equilibrium of forces, thus assuring the
|
||
necessary protection of her own rear while she pursued the great aims of
|
||
British world-policy.
|
||
|
||
The traditional tendency of British diplomacy ever since the reign of
|
||
Queen Elizabeth has been to employ systematically every possible means
|
||
to prevent any one Power from attaining a preponderant position over the
|
||
other European Powers and, if necessary, to break that preponderance by
|
||
means of armed intervention. The only parallel to this has been the
|
||
tradition of the Prussian Army. England has made use of various forces
|
||
to carry out its purpose, choosing them according to the actual
|
||
situation or the task to be faced; but the will and determination to use
|
||
them has always been the same. The more difficult England's position
|
||
became in the course of history the more the British Imperial Government
|
||
considered it necessary to maintain a condition of political paralysis
|
||
among the various European States, as a result of their mutual
|
||
rivalries. When the North American colonies obtained their political
|
||
independence it became still more necessary for England to use every
|
||
effort to establish and maintain the defence of her flank in Europe. In
|
||
accordance with this policy she reduced Spain and the Netherlands to the
|
||
position of inferior naval Powers. Having accomplished this, England
|
||
concentrated all her forces against the increasing strength of France,
|
||
until she brought about the downfall of Napoleon Bonaparte and therewith
|
||
destroyed the military hegemony of France, which was the most dangerous
|
||
rival that England had to fear.
|
||
|
||
The change of attitude in British statesmanship towards Germany took
|
||
place only very slowly, not only because the German nation did not
|
||
represent an obvious danger for England as long as it lacked national
|
||
unification, but also because public opinion in England, which had been
|
||
directed to other quarters by a system of propaganda that had been
|
||
carried out for a long time, could be turned to a new direction only by
|
||
slow degrees. In order to reach the proposed ends the calmly reflecting
|
||
statesman had to bow to popular sentiment, which is the most powerful
|
||
motive-force and is at the same time the most lasting in its energy.
|
||
When the statesman has attained one of his ends, he must immediately
|
||
turn his thoughts to others; but only by degrees and the slow work of
|
||
propaganda can the sentiment of the masses be shaped into an instrument
|
||
for the attainment of the new aims which their leaders have decided on.
|
||
|
||
As early as 1870-71 England had decided on the new stand it would take.
|
||
On certain occasions minor oscillations in that policy were caused by
|
||
the growing influence of America in the commercial markets of the world
|
||
and also by the increasing political power of Russia; but,
|
||
unfortunately, Germany did not take advantage of these and, therefore,
|
||
the original tendency of British diplomacy was only reinforced.
|
||
|
||
England looked upon Germany as a Power which was of world importance
|
||
commercially and politically and which, partly because of its enormous
|
||
industrial development, assumed such threatening proportions that the
|
||
two countries already contended against one another in the same sphere
|
||
and with equal energy. The so-called peaceful conquest of the world by
|
||
commercial enterprise, which, in the eyes of those who governed our
|
||
public affairs at that time, represented the highest peak of human
|
||
wisdom, was just the thing that led English statesmen to adopt a policy
|
||
of resistance. That this resistance assumed the form of an organized
|
||
aggression on a vast scale was in full conformity with a type of
|
||
statesmanship which did not aim at the maintenance of a dubious world
|
||
peace but aimed at the consolidation of British world-hegemony. In
|
||
carrying out this policy, England allied herself with those countries
|
||
which had a definite military importance. And that was in keeping with
|
||
her traditional caution in estimating the power of her adversary and
|
||
also in recognizing her own temporary weakness. That line of conduct
|
||
cannot be called unscrupulous; because such a comprehensive organization
|
||
for war purposes must not be judged from the heroic point of view but
|
||
from that of expediency. The object of a diplomatic policy must not be
|
||
to see that a nation goes down heroically but rather that it survives in
|
||
a practical way. Hence every road that leads to this goal is opportune
|
||
and the failure to take it must be looked upon as a criminal neglect of
|
||
duty.
|
||
|
||
When the German Revolution took place England's fears of a German world
|
||
hegemony came to a satisfactory end.
|
||
|
||
From that time it was not an English interest to see Germany totally
|
||
cancelled from the geographic map of Europe. On the contrary, the
|
||
astounding collapse which took place in November 1918 found British
|
||
diplomacy confronted with a situation which at first appeared untenable.
|
||
|
||
For four-and-a-half years the British Empire had fought to break the
|
||
presumed preponderance of a Continental Power. A sudden collapse now
|
||
happened which removed this Power from the foreground of European
|
||
affairs. That collapse disclosed itself finally in the lack of even the
|
||
primordial instinct of self-preservation, so that European equilibrium
|
||
was destroyed within forty-eight hours. Germany was annihilated and
|
||
France became the first political Power on the Continent of Europe.
|
||
|
||
The tremendous propaganda which was carried on during this war for the
|
||
purpose of encouraging the British public to stick it out to the end
|
||
aroused all the primitive instincts and passions of the populace and was
|
||
bound eventually to hang as a leaden weight on the decisions of British
|
||
statesmen. With the colonial, economical and commercial destruction of
|
||
Germany, England's war aims were attained. Whatever went beyond those
|
||
aims was an obstacle to the furtherance of British interests. Only the
|
||
enemies of England could profit by the disappearance of Germany as a
|
||
Great Continental Power in Europe. In November 1918, however, and up to
|
||
the summer of 1919, it was not possible for England to change its
|
||
diplomatic attitude; because during the long war it had appealed, more
|
||
than it had ever done before, to the feelings of the populace. In view
|
||
of the feeling prevalent among its own people, England could not change
|
||
its foreign policy; and another reason which made that impossible was
|
||
the military strength to which other European Powers had now attained.
|
||
France had taken the direction of peace negotiations into her own hands
|
||
and could impose her law upon the others. During those months of
|
||
negotiations and bargaining the only Power that could have altered the
|
||
course which things were taking was Germany herself; but Germany was
|
||
torn asunder by a civil war, and her so-called statesmen had declared
|
||
themselves ready to accept any and every dictate imposed on them.
|
||
|
||
Now, in the comity of nations, when one nation loses its instinct for
|
||
self-preservation and ceases to be an active member it sinks to the
|
||
level of an enslaved nation and its territory will have to suffer the
|
||
fate of a colony.
|
||
|
||
To prevent the power of France from becoming too great, the only form
|
||
which English negotiations could take was that of participating in
|
||
France's lust for aggrandizement.
|
||
|
||
As a matter of fact, England did not attain the ends for which she went
|
||
to war. Not only did it turn out impossible to prevent a Continental
|
||
Power from obtaining a preponderance over the ratio of strength in the
|
||
Continental State system of Europe, but a large measure of preponderance
|
||
had been obtained and firmly established.
|
||
|
||
In 1914 Germany, considered as a military State, was wedged in between
|
||
two countries, one of which had equal military forces at its disposal
|
||
and the other had greater military resources. Then there was England's
|
||
overwhelming supremacy at sea. France and Russia alone hindered and
|
||
opposed the excessive aggrandizement of Germany. The unfavourable
|
||
geographical situation of the REICH, from the military point of view,
|
||
might be looked upon as another coefficient of security against an
|
||
exaggerated increase of German power. From the naval point of view, the
|
||
configuration of the coast-line was unfavourable in case of a conflict
|
||
with England. And though the maritime frontier was short and cramped,
|
||
the land frontier was widely extended and open.
|
||
|
||
France's position is different to-day. It is the first military Power
|
||
without a serious rival on the Continent. It is almost entirely
|
||
protected by its southern frontier against Spain and Italy. Against
|
||
Germany it is safeguarded by the prostrate condition of our country. A
|
||
long stretch of its coast-line faces the vital nervous system of the
|
||
British Empire. Not only could French aeroplanes and long-range
|
||
batteries attack the vital centres of the British system, but submarines
|
||
can threaten the great British commercial routes. A submarine campaign
|
||
based on France's long Atlantic coast and on the European and North
|
||
African coasts of the Mediterranean would have disastrous consequences
|
||
for England.
|
||
|
||
Thus the political results of the war to prevent the development of
|
||
German power was the creation of a French hegemony on the Continent. The
|
||
military result was the consolidation of France as the first Continental
|
||
Power and the recognition of American equality on the sea. The economic
|
||
result was the cession of great spheres of British interests to her
|
||
former allies and associates.
|
||
|
||
The Balkanization of Europe, up to a certain degree, was desirable and
|
||
indeed necessary in the light of the traditional policy of Great
|
||
Britain, just as France desired the Balkanization of Germany.
|
||
|
||
What England has always desired, and will continue to desire, is to
|
||
prevent any one Continental Power in Europe from attaining a position of
|
||
world importance. Therefore England wishes to maintain a definite
|
||
equilibrium of forces among the European States--for this equilibrium
|
||
seems a necessary condition of England's world-hegemony.
|
||
|
||
What France has always desired, and will continue to desire, is to
|
||
prevent Germany from becoming a homogeneous Power. Therefore France
|
||
wants to maintain a system of small German States whose forces would
|
||
balance one another and over which there should be no central
|
||
government. Then, by acquiring possession of the left bank of the Rhine,
|
||
she would have fulfilled the pre-requisite conditions for the
|
||
establishment and security of her hegemony in Europe.
|
||
|
||
The final aims of French diplomacy must be in perpetual opposition to
|
||
the final tendencies of British statesmanship.
|
||
|
||
Taking these considerations as a starting-point, anyone who investigates
|
||
the possibilities that exist for Germany to find allies must come to the
|
||
conclusion that there remains no other way of forming an alliance except
|
||
to approach England. The consequences of England's war policy were and
|
||
are disastrous for Germany. However, we cannot close our eyes to the
|
||
fact that, as things stand to-day, the necessary interests of England no
|
||
longer demand the destruction of Germany. On the contrary, British
|
||
diplomacy must tend more and more, from year to year, towards curbing
|
||
France's unbridled lust after hegemony. Now, a policy of alliances
|
||
cannot be pursued by bearing past grievances in mind, but it can be
|
||
rendered fruitful by taking account of past experiences. Experience
|
||
should have taught us that alliances formed for negative purposes suffer
|
||
from intrinsic weakness. The destinies of nations can be welded together
|
||
only under the prospect of a common success, of common gain and
|
||
conquest, in short, a common extension of power for both contracting
|
||
parties.
|
||
|
||
The ignorance of our people on questions of foreign politics is clearly
|
||
demonstrated by the reports in the daily Press which talk about
|
||
"friendship towards Germany" on the part of one or the other foreign
|
||
statesman, whereby this professed friendship is taken as a special
|
||
guarantee that such persons will champion a policy that will be
|
||
advantageous to our people. That kind of talk is absurd to an incredible
|
||
degree. It means speculating on the unparalleled simplicity of the
|
||
average German philistine when he comes to talking politics. There is
|
||
not any British, American, or Italian statesman who could ever be
|
||
described as 'pro-German'. Every Englishman must naturally be British
|
||
first of all. The same is true of every American. And no Italian
|
||
statesman would be prepared to adopt a policy that was not pro-Italian.
|
||
Therefore, anyone who expects to form alliances with foreign nations on
|
||
the basis of a pro-German feeling among the statesmen of other countries
|
||
is either an ass or a deceiver. The necessary condition for linking
|
||
together the destinies of nations is never mutual esteem or mutual
|
||
sympathy, but rather the prospect of advantages accruing to the
|
||
contracting parties. It is true that a British statesman will always
|
||
follow a pro-British and not a pro-German policy; but it is also true
|
||
that certain definite interests involved in this pro-British policy may
|
||
coincide on various grounds with German interests. Naturally that can be
|
||
so only to a certain degree and the situation may one day be completely
|
||
reversed. But the art of statesmanship is shown when at certain periods
|
||
there is question of reaching a certain end and when allies are found
|
||
who must take the same road in order to defend their own interests.
|
||
|
||
The practical application of these principles at the present time must
|
||
depend on the answer given to the following questions: What States are
|
||
not vitally interested in the fact that, by the complete abolition of a
|
||
German Central Europe, the economic and military power of France has
|
||
reached a position of absolute hegemony? Which are the States that, in
|
||
consideration of the conditions which are essential to their own
|
||
existence and in view of the tradition that has hitherto been followed
|
||
in conducting their foreign policy, envisage such a development as a
|
||
menace to their own future?
|
||
|
||
Finally, we must be quite clear on the following point: France is and
|
||
will remain the implacable enemy of Germany. It does not matter what
|
||
Governments have ruled or will rule in France, whether Bourbon or
|
||
Jacobin, Napoleonic or Bourgeois-Democratic, Clerical Republican or Red
|
||
Bolshevik, their foreign policy will always be directed towards
|
||
acquiring possession of the Rhine frontier and consolidating France's
|
||
position on this river by disuniting and dismembering Germany.
|
||
|
||
England did not want Germany to be a world Power. France desired that
|
||
there should be no Power called Germany. Therefore there was a very
|
||
essential difference. To-day we are not fighting for our position as a
|
||
World-Power but only for the existence of our country, for national
|
||
unity and the daily bread of our children. Taking this point of view
|
||
into consideration, only two States remain to us as possible allies in
|
||
Europe--England and Italy.
|
||
|
||
England is not pleased to see a France on whose military power there is
|
||
no check in Europe, so that one day she might undertake the support of a
|
||
policy which in some way or other might come into conflict with British
|
||
interests. Nor can England be pleased to see France in possession of
|
||
such enormous coal and iron mines in Western Europe as would make it
|
||
possible for her one day to play a role in world-commerce which might
|
||
threaten danger to British interests. Moreover, England can never be
|
||
pleased to see a France whose political position on the Continent, owing
|
||
to the dismemberment of the rest of Europe, seems so absolutely assured
|
||
that she is not only able to resume a French world-policy on great lines
|
||
but would even find herself compelled to do so. The bombs which were
|
||
once dropped by the Zeppelins might be multiplied by the thousand every
|
||
night. The military predominance of France is a weight that presses
|
||
heavily on the hearts of the World Empire over which Great Britain
|
||
rules.
|
||
|
||
Nor can Italy desire, nor will she desire, any further strengthening of
|
||
France's power in Europe. The future of Italy will be conditioned by the
|
||
development of events in the Mediterranean and by the political
|
||
situation in the area surrounding that sea. The reason that led Italy
|
||
into the War was not a desire to contribute towards the aggrandizement
|
||
of France but rather to deal her hated Adriatic rival a mortal blow. Any
|
||
further increase of France's power on the Continent would hamper the
|
||
development of Italy's future, and Italy does not deceive herself by
|
||
thinking that racial kindred between the nations will in any way
|
||
eliminate rivalries.
|
||
|
||
Serious and impartial consideration proves that it is these two States,
|
||
Great Britain and Italy, whose natural interests not only do not
|
||
contrast with the conditions essential to the existence of the German
|
||
nation but are identical with them, to a certain extent.
|
||
|
||
But when we consider the possibilities of alliances we must be careful
|
||
not to lose sight of three factors. The first factor concerns ourselves;
|
||
the other two concern the two States I have mentioned.
|
||
|
||
Is it at all possible to conclude an alliance with Germany as it is
|
||
to-day? Can a Power which would enter into an alliance for the purpose
|
||
of securing assistance in an effort to carry out its own OFFENSIVE
|
||
aims--can such a Power form an alliance with a State whose rulers have
|
||
for years long presented a spectacle of deplorable incompetence and
|
||
pacifist cowardice and where the majority of the people, blinded by
|
||
democratic and Marxist teachings, betray the interests of their own
|
||
people and country in a manner that cries to Heaven for vengeance? As
|
||
things stand to-day, can any Power hope to establish useful relations
|
||
and hope to fight together for the furtherance of their common interests
|
||
with this State which manifestly has neither the will nor the courage to
|
||
move a finger even in the defence of its bare existence? Take the case
|
||
of a Power for which an alliance must be much more than a pact to
|
||
guarantee a state of slow decomposition, such as happened with the old
|
||
and disastrous Triple Alliance. Can such a Power associate itself for
|
||
life or death with a State whose most characteristic signs of activity
|
||
consist of a rampant servility in external relations and a scandalous
|
||
repression of the national spirit at home? Can such a Power be
|
||
associated with a State in which there is nothing of greatness, because
|
||
its whole policy does not deserve it? Or can alliances be made with
|
||
Governments which are in the hands of men who are despised by their own
|
||
fellow-citizens and consequently are not respected abroad?
|
||
|
||
No. A self-respecting Power which expects something more from alliances
|
||
than commissions for greedy Parliamentarians will not and cannot enter
|
||
into an alliance with our present-day Germany. Our present inability to
|
||
form alliances furnishes the principle and most solid basis for the
|
||
combined action of the enemies who are robbing us. Because Germany does
|
||
not defend itself in any other way except by the flamboyant protests of
|
||
our parliamentarian elect, there is no reason why the rest of the world
|
||
should take up the fight in our defence. And God does not follow the
|
||
principle of granting freedom to a nation of cowards, despite all the
|
||
implications of our 'patriotic' associations. Therefore, for those
|
||
States which have not a direct interest in our annihilation no other
|
||
course remains open except to participate in France's campaign of
|
||
plunder, at least to make it impossible for the strength of France to be
|
||
exclusively aggrandized thereby.
|
||
|
||
In the second place, we must not forget that among the nations which
|
||
were formerly our enemies mass-propaganda has turned the opinions and
|
||
feelings of large sections of the population in a fixed direction. When
|
||
for years long a foreign nation has been presented to the public as a
|
||
horde of 'Huns', 'Robbers', 'Vandals', etc., they cannot suddenly be
|
||
presented as something different, and the enemy of yesterday cannot be
|
||
recommended as the ally of tomorrow.
|
||
|
||
But the third factor deserves greater attention, since it is of
|
||
essential importance for establishing future alliances in Europe.
|
||
|
||
From the political point of view it is not in the interests of Great
|
||
Britain that Germany should be ruined even still more, but such a
|
||
proceeding would be very much in the interests of the international
|
||
money-markets manipulated by the Jew. The cleavage between the official,
|
||
or rather traditional, British statesmanship and the controlling
|
||
influence of the Jew on the money-markets is nowhere so clearly
|
||
manifested as in the various attitudes taken towards problems of British
|
||
foreign policy. Contrary to the interests and welfare of the British
|
||
State, Jewish finance demands not only the absolute economic destruction
|
||
of Germany but its complete political enslavement. The
|
||
internationalization of our German economic system, that is to say, the
|
||
transference of our productive forces to the control of Jewish
|
||
international finance, can be completely carried out only in a State
|
||
that has been politically Bolshevized. But the Marxist fighting forces,
|
||
commanded by international and Jewish stock-exchange capital, cannot
|
||
finally smash the national resistance in Germany without friendly help
|
||
from outside. For this purpose French armies would first have to invade
|
||
and overcome the territory of the German REICH until a state of
|
||
international chaos would set in, and then the country would have to
|
||
succumb to Bolshevik storm troops in the service of Jewish international
|
||
finance.
|
||
|
||
Hence it is that at the present time the Jew is the great agitator for
|
||
the complete destruction of Germany. Whenever we read of attacks against
|
||
Germany taking place in any part of the world the Jew is always the
|
||
instigator. In peace-time, as well as during the War, the Jewish-Marxist
|
||
stock-exchange Press systematically stirred up hatred against Germany,
|
||
until one State after another abandoned its neutrality and placed itself
|
||
at the service of the world coalition, even against the real interests
|
||
of its own people.
|
||
|
||
The Jewish way of reasoning thus becomes quite clear. The Bolshevization
|
||
of Germany, that is to say, the extermination of the patriotic and
|
||
national German intellectuals, thus making it possible to force German
|
||
Labour to bear the yoke of international Jewish finance--that is only
|
||
the overture to the movement for expanding Jewish power on a wider scale
|
||
and finally subjugating the world to its rule. As has so often happened
|
||
in history, Germany is the chief pivot of this formidable struggle. If
|
||
our people and our State should fall victims to these oppressors of the
|
||
nations, lusting after blood and money, the whole earth would become the
|
||
prey of that hydra. Should Germany be freed from its grip, a great
|
||
menace for the nations of the world would thereby be eliminated.
|
||
|
||
It is certain that Jewry uses all its subterranean activities not only
|
||
for the purpose of keeping alive old national enmities against Germany
|
||
but even to spread them farther and render them more acute wherever
|
||
possible. It is no less certain that these activities are only very
|
||
partially in keeping with the true interests of the nations among whose
|
||
people the poison is spread. As a general principle, Jewry carries on
|
||
its campaign in the various countries by the use of arguments that are
|
||
best calculated to appeal to the mentality of the respective nations and
|
||
are most likely to produce the desired results; for Jewry knows what the
|
||
public feeling is in each country. Our national stock has been so much
|
||
adulterated by the mixture of alien elements that, in its fight for
|
||
power, Jewry can make use of the more or less 'cosmopolitan' circles
|
||
which exist among us, inspired by the pacifist and international
|
||
ideologies. In France they exploit the well-known and accurately
|
||
estimated chauvinistic spirit. In England they exploit the commercial
|
||
and world-political outlook. In short, they always work upon the
|
||
essential characteristics that belong to the mentality of each nation.
|
||
When they have in this way achieved a decisive influence in the
|
||
political and economic spheres they can drop the limitations which their
|
||
former tactics necessitated, now disclosing their real intentions and
|
||
the ends for which they are fighting. Their work of destruction now goes
|
||
ahead more quickly, reducing one State after another to a mass of ruins
|
||
on which they will erect the everlasting and sovereign Jewish Empire.
|
||
|
||
In England, and in Italy, the contrast between the better kind of solid
|
||
statesmanship and the policy of the Jewish stock-exchange often becomes
|
||
strikingly evident.
|
||
|
||
Only in France there exists to-day more than ever before a profound
|
||
accord between the views of the stock-exchange, controlled by the Jews,
|
||
and the chauvinistic policy pursued by French statesmen. This identity
|
||
of views constitutes an immense, danger for Germany. And it is just for
|
||
this reason that France is and will remain by far the most dangerous
|
||
enemy. The French people, who are becoming more and more obsessed by
|
||
negroid ideas, represent a threatening menace to the existence of the
|
||
white race in Europe, because they are bound up with the Jewish campaign
|
||
for world-domination. For the contamination caused by the influx of
|
||
negroid blood on the Rhine, in the very heart of Europe, is in accord
|
||
with the sadist and perverse lust for vengeance on the part of the
|
||
hereditary enemy of our people, just as it suits the purpose of the cool
|
||
calculating Jew who would use this means of introducing a process of
|
||
bastardization in the very centre of the European Continent and, by
|
||
infecting the white race with the blood of an inferior stock, would
|
||
destroy the foundations of its independent existence.
|
||
|
||
France's activities in Europe to-day, spurred on by the French lust for
|
||
vengeance and systematically directed by the Jew, are a criminal attack
|
||
against the life of the white race and will one day arouse against the
|
||
French people a spirit of vengeance among a generation which will have
|
||
recognized the original sin of mankind in this racial pollution.
|
||
|
||
As far as concerns Germany, the danger which France represents involves
|
||
the duty of relegating all sentiment to a subordinate place and
|
||
extending the hand to those who are threatened with the same menace and
|
||
who are not willing to suffer or tolerate France's lust for hegemony.
|
||
|
||
For a long time yet to come there will be only two Powers in Europe with
|
||
which it may be possible for Germany to conclude an alliance. These
|
||
Powers are Great Britain and Italy.
|
||
|
||
If we take the trouble to cast a glance backwards on the way in which
|
||
German foreign policy has been conducted since the Revolution we must,
|
||
in view of the constant and incomprehensible acts of submission on the
|
||
part. of our governments, either lose heart or become fired with rage
|
||
and take up the cudgels against such a regime. Their way of acting
|
||
cannot be attributed to a want of understanding, because what seemed to
|
||
every thinking man to be inconceivable was accomplished by the leaders
|
||
of the November parties with their Cyclopean intellects. They bowed to
|
||
France and begged her favour. Yes, during all these recent years, with
|
||
the touching simplicity of incorrigible visionaries, they went on their
|
||
knees to France again and again. They perpetuaily wagged their tails
|
||
before the GRANDE NATION. And in each trick-o'-the-loop which the French
|
||
hangmen performed with his rope they recognized a visible change of
|
||
feeling. Our real political wire-pullers never shared in this absurd
|
||
credulity. The idea of establishing a friendship with France was for
|
||
them only a means of thwarting every attempt on Germany's part to adopt
|
||
a practical policy of alliances. They had no illusions about French aims
|
||
or those of the men behind the scenes in France. What induced them to
|
||
take up such an attitude and to act as if they honestly believed that
|
||
the fate of Germany could possibly be changed in this way was the cool
|
||
calculation that if this did not happen our people might take the reins
|
||
into their own hands and choose another road.
|
||
|
||
Of course it is difficult for us to propose England as our possible ally
|
||
in the future. Our Jewish Press has always been adept in concentrating
|
||
hatred against England particularly. And many of our good German
|
||
simpletons perch on these branches which the Jews have limed to capture
|
||
them. They babble about a restoration of German sea power and protest
|
||
against the robbery of our colonies. Thus they furnish material which
|
||
the contriving Jew transmits to his clansmen in England, so that it can
|
||
be used there for purposes of practical propaganda. For our
|
||
simple-minded bourgeoisie who indulge in politics can take in only
|
||
little by little the idea that to-day we have not to fight for
|
||
'sea-power' and such things. Even before the War it was absurd to direct
|
||
the national energies of Germany towards this end without first having
|
||
secured our position in Europe. Such a hope to-day reaches that peak of
|
||
absurdity which may be called criminal in the domain of politics.
|
||
|
||
Often one becomes really desperate on seeing how the Jewish wire-pullers
|
||
succeeded in concentrating the attention of the people on things which
|
||
are only of secondary importance to-day, They incited the people to
|
||
demonstrations and protests while at the same time France was tearing
|
||
our nation asunder bit by bit and systematically removing the very
|
||
foundations of our national independence.
|
||
|
||
In this connection I have to think of the Wooden Horse in the riding of
|
||
which the Jew showed extraordinary skill during these years. I mean
|
||
South Tyrol.
|
||
|
||
Yes, South Tyrol. The reason why I take up this question here is just
|
||
because I want to call to account that shameful CANAILLE who relied on
|
||
the ignorance and short memories of large sections of our people and
|
||
stimulated a national indignation which is as foreign to the real
|
||
character of our parliamentary impostors as the idea of respect for
|
||
private property is to a magpie.
|
||
|
||
I should like to state here that I was one of those who, at the time
|
||
when the fate of South Tyrol was being decided--that is to say, from
|
||
August 1914 to November 1918--took my place where that country also
|
||
could have been effectively defended, namely, in the Army. I did my
|
||
share in the fighting during those years, not merely to save South Tyrol
|
||
from being lost but also to save every other German province for the
|
||
Fatherland.
|
||
|
||
The parliamentary sharpers did not take part in that combat. The whole
|
||
CANAILLE played party politics. On the other hand, we carried on the
|
||
fight in the belief that a victorious issue of the War would enable the
|
||
German nation to keep South Tyrol also; but the loud-mouthed traitor
|
||
carried on a seditious agitation against such a victorious issue, until
|
||
the fighting Siegfried succumbed to the dagger plunged in his back. It
|
||
was only natural that the inflammatory and hypocritical speeches of the
|
||
elegantly dressed parliamentarians on the Vienna RATHAUS PLATZ or in
|
||
front of the FELDHERRNHALLE in Munich could not save South Tyrol for
|
||
Germany. That could be done only by the fighting battalions at the
|
||
Front. Those who broke up that fighting front betrayed South Tyrol, as
|
||
well as the other districts of Germany.
|
||
|
||
Anyone who thinks that the South Tyrol question can be solved to-day by
|
||
protests and manifestations and processions organized by various
|
||
associations is either a humbug or merely a German philistine.
|
||
|
||
In this regard it must be quite clearly understood that we cannot get
|
||
back the territories we have lost if we depend on solemn imprecations
|
||
before the throne of the Almighty God or on pious hopes in a League of
|
||
Nations, but only by the force of arms.
|
||
|
||
Therefore the only remaining question is: Who is ready to take up arms
|
||
for the restoration of the lost territories?
|
||
|
||
As far as concerns myself personally, I can state with a good conscience
|
||
that I would have courage enough to take part in a campaign for the
|
||
reconquest of South Tyrol, at the head of parliamentarian storm
|
||
battalions consisting of parliamentarian gasconaders and all the party
|
||
leaders, also the various Councillors of State. Only the Devil knows
|
||
whether I might have the luck of seeing a few shells suddenly burst over
|
||
this 'burning' demonstration of protest. I think that if a fox were to
|
||
break into a poultry yard his presence would not provoke such a
|
||
helter-skelter and rush to cover as we should witness in the band of
|
||
'protesters'.
|
||
|
||
The vilest part of it all is that these talkers themselves do not
|
||
believe that anything can be achieved in this way. Each one of them
|
||
knows very well how harmless and ineffective their whole pretence is.
|
||
They do it only because it is easier now to babble about the restoration
|
||
of South Tyrol than to fight for its preservation in days gone by.
|
||
|
||
Each one plays the part that he is best capable of playing in life. In
|
||
those days we offered our blood. To-day these people are engaged in
|
||
whetting their tusks.
|
||
|
||
It is particularly interesting to note to-day how legitimist circles in
|
||
Vienna preen themselves on their work for the restoration of South
|
||
Tyrol. Seven years ago their august and illustrious Dynasty helped, by
|
||
an act of perjury and treason, to make it possible for the victorious
|
||
world-coalition to take away South Tyrol. At that time these circles
|
||
supported the perfidious policy adopted by their Dynasty and did not
|
||
trouble themselves in the least about the fate of South Tyrol or any
|
||
other province. Naturally it is easier to-day to take up the fight for
|
||
this territory, since the present struggle is waged with 'the weapons of
|
||
the mind'. Anyhow, it is easier to join in a 'meeting of protestation'
|
||
and talk yourself hoarse in giving vent to the noble indignation that
|
||
fills your breast, or stain your finger with the writing of a newspaper
|
||
article, than to blow up a bridge, for instance, during the occupation
|
||
of the Ruhr.
|
||
|
||
The reason why certain circles have made the question of South Tyrol the
|
||
pivot of German-Italian relations during the past few years is quite
|
||
evident. Jews and Habsburg legitimists are greatly interested in
|
||
preventing Germany from pursuing a policy of alliance which might lead
|
||
one day to the resurgence of a free German fatherland. It is not out of
|
||
love for South Tyrol that they play this role to-day--for their policy
|
||
would turn out detrimental rather than helpful to the interests of that
|
||
province--but through fear of an agreement being established between
|
||
Germany and Italy.
|
||
|
||
A tendency towards lying and calumny lies in the nature of these people,
|
||
and that explains how they can calmly and brazenly attempt to twist
|
||
things in such a way as to make it appear that we have 'betrayed' South
|
||
Tyrol.
|
||
|
||
There is one clear answer that must be given to these gentlemen. It is
|
||
this: Tyrol has been betrayed, in the first place, by every German who
|
||
was sound in limb and body and did not offer himself for service at the
|
||
Front during 1914-1918 to do his duty towards his country.
|
||
|
||
In the second place, Tyrol was betrayed by every man who, during those
|
||
years did not help to reinforce the national spirit and the national
|
||
powers of resistance, so as to enable the country to carry through the
|
||
War and keep up the fight to the very end.
|
||
|
||
In the third place, South Tyrol was betrayed by everyone who took part
|
||
in the November Revolution, either directly by his act or indirectly by
|
||
a cowardly toleration of it, and thus broke the sole weapon that could
|
||
have saved South Tyrol.
|
||
|
||
In the fourth place, South Tyrol was betrayed by those parties and their
|
||
adherents who put their signatures to the disgraceful treaties of
|
||
Versailles and St. Germain.
|
||
|
||
And so the matter stands, my brave gentlemen, who make your protests
|
||
only with words.
|
||
|
||
To-day I am guided by a calm and cool recognition of the fact that the
|
||
lost territories cannot be won back by the whetted tongues of
|
||
parliamentary spouters but only by the whetted sword; in other words,
|
||
through a fight where blood will have to be shed.
|
||
|
||
Now, I have no hesitations in saying that to-day, once the die has been
|
||
cast, it is not only impossible to win back South Tyrol through a war
|
||
but I should definitely take my stand against such a movement, because I
|
||
am convinced that it would not be possible to arouse the national
|
||
enthusiasm of the German people and maintain it in such a way as would
|
||
be necessary in order to carry through such a war to a successful issue.
|
||
On the contrary, I believe that if we have to shed German blood once
|
||
again it would be criminal to do so for the sake of liberating 200,000
|
||
Germans, when more than seven million neighbouring Germans are suffering
|
||
under foreign domination and a vital artery of the German nation has
|
||
become a playground for hordes of African niggers.
|
||
|
||
If the German nation is to put an end to a state of things which
|
||
threatens to wipe it off the map of Europe it must not fall into the
|
||
errors of the pre-War period and make the whole world its enemy. But it
|
||
must ascertain who is its most dangerous enemy so that it can
|
||
concentrate all its forces in a struggle to beat him. And if, in order
|
||
to carry through this struggle to victory, sacrifices should be made in
|
||
other quarters, future generations will not condemn us for that. They
|
||
will take account of the miseries and anxieties which led us to make
|
||
such a bitter decision, and in the light of that consideration they will
|
||
more clearly recognize the brilliancy of our success.
|
||
|
||
Again I must say here that we must always be guided by the fundamental
|
||
principle that, as a preliminary to winning back lost provinces, the
|
||
political independence and strength of the motherland must first be
|
||
restored.
|
||
|
||
The first task which has to be accomplished is to make that independence
|
||
possible and to secure it by a wise policy of alliances, which
|
||
presupposes an energetic management of our public affairs.
|
||
|
||
But it is just on this point that we, National Socialists, have to guard
|
||
against being dragged into the tow of our ranting bourgeois patriots who
|
||
take their cue from the Jew. It would be a disaster if, instead of
|
||
preparing for the coming struggle, our Movement also were to busy itself
|
||
with mere protests by word of mouth.
|
||
|
||
It was the fantastic idea of a Nibelungen alliance with the decomposed
|
||
body of the Habsburg State that brought about Germany's ruin. Fantastic
|
||
sentimentality in dealing with the possibilities of foreign policy
|
||
to-day would be the best means of preventing our revival for innumerable
|
||
years to come.
|
||
|
||
Here I must briefly answer the objections which may be raised in regard
|
||
to the three questions I have put.
|
||
|
||
1. Is it possible at all to form an alliance with the present Germany,
|
||
whose weakness is so visible to all eyes?
|
||
|
||
2. Can the ex-enemy nations change their attitude towards Germany?
|
||
|
||
3. In other nations is not the influence of Jewry stronger than the
|
||
recognition of their own interests, and does not this influence thwart
|
||
all their good intentions and render all their plans futile?
|
||
|
||
I think that I have already dealt adequately with one of the two aspects
|
||
of the first point. Of course nobody will enter into an alliance with
|
||
the present Germany. No Power in the world would link its fortunes with
|
||
a State whose government does not afford grounds for the slightest
|
||
confidence. As regards the attempt which has been made by many of our
|
||
compatriots to explain the conduct of the Government by referring to the
|
||
woeful state of public feeling and thus excuse such conduct, I must
|
||
strongly object to that way of looking at things.
|
||
|
||
The lack of character which our people have shown during the last six
|
||
years is deeply distressing. The indifference with which they have
|
||
treated the most urgent necessities of our nation might veritably lead
|
||
one to despair. Their cowardice is such that it often cries to heaven
|
||
for vengeance. But one must never forget that we are dealing with a
|
||
people who gave to the world, a few years previously, an admirable
|
||
example of the highest human qualities. From the first days of August
|
||
1914 to the end of the tremendous struggle between the nations, no
|
||
people in the world gave a better proof of manly courage, tenacity and
|
||
patient endurance, than this people gave who are so cast down and
|
||
dispirited to-day. Nobody will dare to assert that the lack of character
|
||
among our people to-day is typical of them. What we have to endure
|
||
to-day, among us and around us, is due only to the influence of the sad
|
||
and distressing effects that followed the high treason committed on
|
||
November 9th, 1918. More than ever before the word of the poet is true:
|
||
that evil can only give rise to evil. But even in this epoch those
|
||
qualities among our people which are fundamentally sound are not
|
||
entirely lost. They slumber in the depths of the national conscience,
|
||
and sometimes in the clouded firmament we see certain qualities like
|
||
shining lights which Germany will one day remember as the first symptoms
|
||
of a revival. We often see young Germans assembling and forming
|
||
determined resolutions, as they did in 1914, freely and willingly to
|
||
offer themselves as a sacrifice on the altar of their beloved
|
||
Fatherland. Millions of men have resumed work, whole-heartedly and
|
||
zealously, as if no revolution had ever affected them. The smith is at
|
||
his anvil once again. And the farmer drives his plough. The scientist is
|
||
in his laboratory. And everybody is once again attending to his duty
|
||
with the same zeal and devotion as formerly.
|
||
|
||
The oppression which we suffer from at the hands of our enemies is no
|
||
longer taken, as it formerly was, as a matter for laughter; but it is
|
||
resented with bitterness and anger. There can be no doubt that a great
|
||
change of attitude has taken place.
|
||
|
||
This evolution has not yet taken the shape of a conscious intention and
|
||
movement to restore the political power and independence of our nation;
|
||
but the blame for this must be attributed to those utterly incompetent
|
||
people who have no natural endowments to qualify them for statesmanship
|
||
and yet have been governing our nation since 1918 and leading it to
|
||
ruin.
|
||
|
||
Yes. If anybody accuses our people to-day he ought to be asked: What is
|
||
being done to help them? What are we to say of the poor support which
|
||
the people give to any measures introduced by the Government? Is it not
|
||
true that such a thing as a Government hardly exists at all? And must we
|
||
consider the poor support which it receives as a sign of a lack of
|
||
vitality in the nation itself; or is it not rather a proof of the
|
||
complete failure of the methods employed in the management of this
|
||
valuable trust? What have our Governments done to re-awaken in the
|
||
nation a proud spirit of self-assertion, up-standing manliness, and a
|
||
spirit of righteous defiance towards its enemies?
|
||
|
||
In 1919, when the Peace Treaty was imposed on the German nation, there
|
||
were grounds for hoping that this instrument of unrestricted oppression
|
||
would help to reinforce the outcry for the freedom of Germany. Peace
|
||
treaties which make demands that fall like a whip-lash on the people
|
||
turn out not infrequently to be the signal of a future revival.
|
||
|
||
To what purpose could the Treaty of Versailles have been exploited?
|
||
|
||
In the hands of a willing Government, how could this instrument of
|
||
unlimited blackmail and shameful humiliation have been applied for the
|
||
purpose of arousing national sentiment to its highest pitch? How could a
|
||
well-directed system of propaganda have utilized the sadist cruelty of
|
||
that treaty so as to change the indifference of the people to a feeling
|
||
of indignation and transform that indignation into a spirit of dauntless
|
||
resistance?
|
||
|
||
Each point of that Treaty could have been engraved on the minds and
|
||
hearts of the German people and burned into them until sixty million men
|
||
and women would find their souls aflame with a feeling of rage and
|
||
shame; and a torrent of fire would burst forth as from a furnace, and
|
||
one common will would be forged from it, like a sword of steel. Then the
|
||
people would join in the common cry: "To arms again!"
|
||
|
||
Yes. A treaty of that kind can be used for such a purpose. Its unbounded
|
||
oppression and its impudent demands were an excellent propaganda weapon
|
||
to arouse the sluggish spirit of the nation and restore its vitality.
|
||
|
||
Then, from the child's story-book to the last newspaper in the country,
|
||
and every theatre and cinema, every pillar where placards are posted and
|
||
every free space on the hoardings should be utilized in the service of
|
||
this one great mission, until the faint-hearted cry, "Lord, deliver us,"
|
||
which our patriotic associations send up to Heaven to-day would be
|
||
transformed into an ardent prayer: "Almighty God, bless our arms when
|
||
the hour comes. Be just, as Thou hast always been just. Judge now if we
|
||
deserve our freedom. Lord, bless our struggle."
|
||
|
||
All opportunities were neglected and nothing was done.
|
||
|
||
Who will be surprised now if our people are not such as they should be
|
||
or might be? The rest of the world looks upon us only as its valet, or
|
||
as a kindly dog that will lick its master's hand after he has been
|
||
whipped.
|
||
|
||
Of course the possibilities of forming alliances with other nations are
|
||
hampered by the indifference of our own people, but much more by our
|
||
Governments. They have been and are so corrupt that now, after eight
|
||
years of indescribable oppression, there exists only a faint desire for
|
||
liberty.
|
||
|
||
In order that our nation may undertake a policy of alliances, it must
|
||
restore its prestige among other nations, and it must have an
|
||
authoritative Government that is not a drudge in the service of foreign
|
||
States and the taskmaster of its own people, but rather the herald of
|
||
the national will.
|
||
|
||
If our people had a government which would look upon this as its
|
||
mission, six years would not have passed before a courageous foreign
|
||
policy on the part of the REICH would find a corresponding support among
|
||
the people, whose desire for freedom would be encouraged and intensified
|
||
thereby.
|
||
|
||
The third objection referred to the difficulty of changing the ex-enemy
|
||
nations into friendly allies. That objection may be answered as follows:
|
||
|
||
The general anti-German psychosis which has developed in other countries
|
||
through the war propaganda must of necessity continue to exist as long
|
||
as there is not a renaissance of the national conscience among the
|
||
German people, so that the German REICH may once again become a State
|
||
which is able to play its part on the chess-board of European politics
|
||
and with whom the others feel that they can play. Only when the
|
||
Government and the people feel absolutely certain of being able to
|
||
undertake a policy of alliances can one Power or another, whose
|
||
interests coincide with ours, think of instituting a system of
|
||
propaganda for the purpose of changing public opinion among its own
|
||
people. Naturally it will take several years of persevering and ably
|
||
directed work to reach such a result. Just because a long period is
|
||
needed in order to change the public opinion of a country, it is
|
||
necessary to reflect calmly before such an enterprise be undertaken.
|
||
This means that one must not enter upon this kind of work unless one is
|
||
absolutely convinced that it is worth the trouble and that it will bring
|
||
results which will be valuable in the future. One must not try to change
|
||
the opinions and feelings of a people by basing one's actions on the
|
||
vain cajolery of a more or less brilliant Foreign Minister, but only if
|
||
there be a tangible guarantee that the new orientation will be really
|
||
useful. Otherwise public opinion in the country dealt with may be just
|
||
thrown into a state of complete confusion. The most reliable guarantee
|
||
that can be given for the possibility of subsequently entering into an
|
||
alliance with a certain State cannot be found in the loquacious suavity
|
||
of some individual member of the Government, but in the manifest
|
||
stability of a definite and practical policy on the part of the
|
||
Government as a whole, and in the support which is given to that policy
|
||
by the public opinion of the country. The faith of the public in this
|
||
policy will be strengthened all the more if the Government organize one
|
||
active propaganda to explain its efforts and secure public support for
|
||
them, and if public opinion favourably responds to the Government's
|
||
policy.
|
||
|
||
Therefore a nation in such a position as ours will be looked upon as a
|
||
possible ally if public opinion supports the Government's policy and if
|
||
both are united in the same enthusiastic determination to carry through
|
||
the fight for national freedom. That condition of affairs must be firmly
|
||
established before any attempt can be made to change public opinion in
|
||
other countries which, for the sake of defending their most elementary
|
||
interests, are disposed to take the road shoulder-to-shoulder with a
|
||
companion who seems able to play his part in defending those interests.
|
||
In other words, this means that they will be ready to establish an
|
||
alliance.
|
||
|
||
For this purpose, however, one thing is necessary. Seeing that the task
|
||
of bringing about a radical change in the public opinion of a country
|
||
calls for hard work, and many do not at first understand what it means,
|
||
it would be both foolish and criminal to commit mistakes which could be
|
||
used as weapons in the hands of those who are opposed to such a change.
|
||
|
||
One must recognize the fact that it takes a long time for a people to
|
||
understand completely the inner purposes which a Government has in view,
|
||
because it is not possible to explain the ultimate aims of the
|
||
preparations that are being made to carry through a certain policy. In
|
||
such cases the Government has to count on the blind faith of the masses
|
||
or the intuitive instinct of the ruling caste that is more developed
|
||
intellectually. But since many people lack this insight, this political
|
||
acumen and faculty for seeing into the trend of affairs, and since
|
||
political considerations forbid a public explanation of why such and
|
||
such a course is being followed, a certain number of leaders in
|
||
intellectual circles will always oppose new tendencies which, because
|
||
they are not easily grasped, can be pointed to as mere experiments. And
|
||
that attitude arouses opposition among conservative circles regarding
|
||
the measures in question.
|
||
|
||
For this reason a strict duty devolves upon everybody not to allow any
|
||
weapon to fall into the hands of those who would interfere with the work
|
||
of bringing about a mutual understanding with other nations. This is
|
||
specially so in our case, where we have to deal with the pretentions and
|
||
fantastic talk of our patriotic associations and our small bourgeoisie
|
||
who talk politics in the cafes. That the cry for a new war fleet, the
|
||
restoration of our colonies, etc., has no chance of ever being carried
|
||
out in practice will not be denied by anyone who thinks over the matter
|
||
calmly and seriously. These harmless and sometimes half-crazy spouters
|
||
in the war of protests are serving the interests of our mortal enemy,
|
||
while the manner in which their vapourings are exploited for political
|
||
purposes in England cannot be considered as advantageous to Germany.
|
||
|
||
They squander their energies in futile demonstrations against the whole
|
||
world. These demonstrations are harmful to our interests and those who
|
||
indulge in them forget the fundamental principle which is a preliminary
|
||
condition of all success. What thou doest, do it thoroughly. Because we
|
||
keep on howling against five or ten States we fail to concentrate all
|
||
the forces of our national will and our physical strength for a blow at
|
||
the heart of our bitterest enemy. And in this way we sacrifice the
|
||
possibility of securing an alliance which would reinforce our strength
|
||
for that decisive conflict.
|
||
|
||
Here, too, there is a mission for National Socialism to fulfil. It must
|
||
teach our people not to fix their attention on the little things but
|
||
rather on the great things, not to exhaust their energies on secondary
|
||
objects, and not to forget that the object we shall have to fight for
|
||
one day is the bare existence of our people and that the sole enemy we
|
||
shall have to strike at is that Power which is robbing us of this
|
||
existence.
|
||
|
||
It may be that we shall have many a heavy burden to bear. But this is by
|
||
no means an excuse for refusing to listen to reason and raise
|
||
nonsensical outcries against the rest of the world, instead of
|
||
concentrating all our forces against the most deadly enemy.
|
||
|
||
Moreover, the German people will have no moral right to complain of the
|
||
manner in which the rest of the world acts towards them, as long as they
|
||
themselves have not called to account those criminals who sold and
|
||
betrayed their own country. We cannot hope to be taken very seriously if
|
||
we indulge in long-range abuse and protests against England and Italy
|
||
and then allow those scoundrels to circulate undisturbed in our own
|
||
country who were in the pay of the enemy war propaganda, took the
|
||
weapons out of our hands, broke the backbone of our resistance and
|
||
bartered away the REICH for thirty pieces of silver.
|
||
|
||
The enemy did only what was expected. And we ought to learn from the
|
||
stand he took and the way he acted.
|
||
|
||
Anyone who cannot rise to the level of this outlook must reflect that
|
||
otherwise there would remain nothing else than to renounce the idea of
|
||
adopting any policy of alliances for the future. For if we cannot form
|
||
an alliance with England because she has robbed us of our colonies, or
|
||
with Italy because she has taken possession of South Tyrol, or with
|
||
Poland or Czechoslovakia, then there remains no other possibility of an
|
||
alliance in Europe except with France which, inter alia, has robbed us
|
||
of Alsace and Lorraine.
|
||
|
||
There can scarcely be any doubt as to whether this last alternative
|
||
would be advantageous to the interests of the German people. But if it
|
||
be defended by somebody one is always doubtful whether that person be
|
||
merely a simpleton or an astute rogue.
|
||
|
||
As far as concerns the leaders in these activities, I think the latter
|
||
hypothesis is true.
|
||
|
||
A change in public feeling among those nations which have hitherto been
|
||
enemies and whose true interests will correspond in the future with ours
|
||
could be effected, as far as human calculation goes, if the internal
|
||
strength of our State and our manifest determination to secure our own
|
||
existence made it clear that we should be valuable allies. Moreover, it
|
||
is necessary that our incompetent way of doing things and our criminal
|
||
conduct in some matters should not furnish grounds which may be utilized
|
||
for purposes of propaganda by those who would oppose our projects of
|
||
establishing an alliance with one or other of our former enemies.
|
||
|
||
The answer to the third question is still more difficult: Is it
|
||
conceivable that they who represent the true interests of those nations
|
||
which may possibly form an alliance with us could put their views into
|
||
practice against the will of the Jew, who is the mortal enemy of
|
||
national and independent popular States?
|
||
|
||
For instance, could the motive-forces of Great Britain's traditional
|
||
statesmanship smash the disastrous influence of the Jew, or could they
|
||
not?
|
||
|
||
This question, as I have already said, is very difficult to answer. The
|
||
answer depends on so many factors that it is impossible to form a
|
||
conclusive judgment. Anyhow, one thing is certain: The power of the
|
||
Government in a given State and at a definite period may be so firmly
|
||
established in the public estimation and so absolutely at the service of
|
||
the country's interests that the forces of international Jewry could not
|
||
possibly organize a real and effective obstruction against measures
|
||
considered to be politically necessary.
|
||
|
||
The fight which Fascist Italy waged against Jewry's three principal
|
||
weapons, the profound reasons for which may not have been consciously
|
||
understood (though I do not believe this myself) furnishes the best
|
||
proof that the poison fangs of that Power which transcends all State
|
||
boundaries are being drawn, even though in an indirect way. The
|
||
prohibition of Freemasonry and secret societies, the suppression of the
|
||
supernational Press and the definite abolition of Marxism, together with
|
||
the steadily increasing consolidation of the Fascist concept of the
|
||
State--all this will enable the Italian Government, in the course of
|
||
some years, to advance more and more the interests of the Italian people
|
||
without paying any attention to the hissing of the Jewish world-hydra.
|
||
|
||
The English situation is not so favourable. In that country which has
|
||
'the freest democracy' the Jew dictates his will, almost unrestrained
|
||
but indirectly, through his influence on public opinion. And yet there
|
||
is a perpetual struggle in England between those who are entrusted with
|
||
the defence of State interests and the protagonists of Jewish
|
||
world-dictatorship.
|
||
|
||
After the War it became clear for the first time how sharp this contrast
|
||
is, when British statesmanship took one stand on the Japanese problem
|
||
and the Press took a different stand.
|
||
|
||
Just after the War had ceased the old mutual antipathy between America
|
||
and Japan began to reappear. Naturally the great European Powers could
|
||
not remain indifferent to this new war menace. In England, despite the
|
||
ties of kinship, there was a certain amount of jealousy and anxiety over
|
||
the growing importance of the United States in all spheres of
|
||
international economics and politics. What was formerly a colonial
|
||
territory, the daughter of a great mother, seemed about to become the
|
||
new mistress of the world. It is quite understandable that to-day
|
||
England should re-examine her old alliances and that British
|
||
statesmanship should look anxiously to the danger of a coming moment
|
||
when the cry would no longer be: "Britain rules the waves", but rather:
|
||
"The Seas belong to the United States".
|
||
|
||
The gigantic North American State, with the enormous resources of its
|
||
virgin soil, is much more invulnerable than the encircled German REICH.
|
||
Should a day come when the die which will finally decide the destinies
|
||
of the nations will have to be cast in that country, England would be
|
||
doomed if she stood alone. Therefore she eagerly reaches out her hand to
|
||
a member of the yellow race and enters an alliance which, from the
|
||
racial point of view is perhaps unpardonable; but from the political
|
||
viewpoint it represents the sole possibility of reinforcing Britain's
|
||
world position in face of the strenuous developments taking place on the
|
||
American continent.
|
||
|
||
Despite the fact that they fought side by side on the European
|
||
battlefields, the British Government did not decide to conclude an
|
||
alliance with the Asiatic partner, yet the whole Jewish Press opposed
|
||
the idea of a Japanese alliance.
|
||
|
||
How can we explain the fact that up to 1918 the Jewish Press championed
|
||
the policy of the British Government against the German REICH and then
|
||
suddenly began to take its own way and showed itself disloyal to the
|
||
Government?
|
||
|
||
It was not in the interests of Great Britain to have Germany
|
||
annihilated, but primarily a Jewish interest. And to-day the destruction
|
||
of Japan would serve British political interests less than it would
|
||
serve the far-reaching intentions of those who are leading the movement
|
||
that hopes to establish a Jewish world-empire. While England is using
|
||
all her endeavours to maintain her position in the world, the Jew is
|
||
organizing his aggressive plans for the conquest of it.
|
||
|
||
He already sees the present European States as pliant instruments in his
|
||
hands, whether indirectly through the power of so-called Western
|
||
Democracy or in the form of a direct domination through Russian
|
||
Bolshevism. But it is not only the old world that he holds in his snare;
|
||
for a like fate threatens the new world. Jews control the financial
|
||
forces of America on the stock exchange. Year after year the Jew
|
||
increases his hold on Labour in a nation of 120 million souls. But a
|
||
very small section still remains quite independent and is thus the cause
|
||
of chagrin to the Jew.
|
||
|
||
The Jews show consummate skill in manipulating public opinion and using
|
||
it as an instrument in fighting for their own future.
|
||
|
||
The great leaders of Jewry are confident that the day is near at hand
|
||
when the command given in the Old Testament will be carried out and the
|
||
Jews will devour the other nations of the earth.
|
||
|
||
Among this great mass of denationalized countries which have become
|
||
Jewish colonies one independent State could bring about the ruin of the
|
||
whole structure at the last moment. The reason for doing this would be
|
||
that Bolshevism as a world-system cannot continue to exist unless it
|
||
encompasses the whole earth. Should one State preserve its national
|
||
strength and its national greatness the empire of the Jewish satrapy,
|
||
like every other tyranny, would have to succumb to the force of the
|
||
national idea.
|
||
|
||
As a result of his millennial experience in accommodating himself to
|
||
surrounding circumstances, the Jew knows very well that he can undermine
|
||
the existence of European nations by a process of racial bastardization,
|
||
but that he could hardly do the same to a national Asiatic State like
|
||
Japan. To-day he can ape the ways of the German and the Englishman, the
|
||
American and the Frenchman, but he has no means of approach to the
|
||
yellow Asiatic. Therefore he seeks to destroy the Japanese national
|
||
State by using other national States as his instruments, so that he may
|
||
rid himself of a dangerous opponent before he takes over supreme control
|
||
of the last national State and transforms that control into a tyranny
|
||
for the oppression of the defenceless.
|
||
|
||
He does not want to see a national Japanese State in existence when he
|
||
founds his millennial empire of the future, and therefore he wants to
|
||
destroy it before establishing his own dictatorship.
|
||
|
||
And so he is busy to-day in stirring up antipathy towards Japan among
|
||
the other nations, as he stirred it up against Germany. Thus it may
|
||
happen that while British statesmanship is still endeavouring to ground
|
||
its policy in the alliance with Japan, the Jewish Press in Great Britain
|
||
may be at the same time leading a hostile movement against that ally and
|
||
preparing for a war of destruction by pretending that it is for the
|
||
triumph of democracy and at the same time raising the war-cry: Down with
|
||
Japanese militarism and imperialism.
|
||
|
||
Thus in England to-day the Jew opposes the policy of the State. And for
|
||
this reason the struggle against the Jewish world-danger will one day
|
||
begin also in that country.
|
||
|
||
And here again the National Socialist Movement has a tremendous task
|
||
before it.
|
||
|
||
It must open the eyes of our people in regard to foreign nations and it
|
||
must continually remind them of the real enemy who menaces the world
|
||
to-day. In place of preaching hatred against Aryans from whom we may be
|
||
separated on almost every other ground but with whom the bond of kindred
|
||
blood and the main features of a common civilization unite us, we must
|
||
devote ourselves to arousing general indignation against the maleficent
|
||
enemy of humanity and the real author of all our sufferings.
|
||
|
||
The National Socialist Movement must see to it that at least in our own
|
||
country the mortal enemy is recognized and that the fight against him
|
||
may be a beacon light pointing to a new and better period for other
|
||
nations as well as showing the way of salvation for Aryan humanity in
|
||
the struggle for its existence.
|
||
|
||
Finally, may reason be our guide and will-power our strength. And may
|
||
the sacred duty of directing our conduct as I have pointed out give us
|
||
perseverance and tenacity; and may our faith be our supreme protection.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
CHAPTER XIV
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
GERMANY'S POLICY IN EASTERN EUROPE
|
||
|
||
|
||
There are two considerations which induce me to make a special analysis
|
||
of Germany's position in regard to Russia. These are:
|
||
|
||
(1) This may prove to be the most decisive point in determining
|
||
Germany's foreign policy.
|
||
|
||
(2) The problem which has to be solved in this connection is also a
|
||
touchstone to test the political capacity of the young National
|
||
Socialist Movement for clear thinking and acting along the right lines.
|
||
|
||
I must confess that the second consideration has often been a source of
|
||
great anxiety to me. The members of our movement are not recruited from
|
||
circles which are habitually indifferent to public affairs, but mostly
|
||
from among men who hold more or less extreme views. Such being the case,
|
||
it is only natural that their understanding of foreign politics should
|
||
suffer from the prejudice and inadequate knowledge of those circles to
|
||
which they were formerly attached by political and ideological ties. And
|
||
this is true not merely of the men who come to us from the Left. On the
|
||
contrary, however subversive may have been the kind of teaching they
|
||
formerly received in regard to these problems, in very many cases this
|
||
was at least partly counterbalanced by the residue of sound and natural
|
||
instincts which remained. In such cases it is only necessary to
|
||
substitute a better teaching in place of the earlier influences, in
|
||
order to transform the instinct of self-preservation and other sound
|
||
instincts into valuable assets.
|
||
|
||
On the other hand, it is much more difficult to impress definite
|
||
political ideas on the minds of men whose earlier political education
|
||
was not less nonsensical and illogical than that given to the partisans
|
||
of the Left. These men have sacrificed the last residue of their natural
|
||
instincts to the worship of some abstract and entirely objective theory.
|
||
It is particularly difficult to induce these representatives of our
|
||
so-called intellectual circles to take a realistic and logical view of
|
||
their own interests and the interests of their nation in its relations
|
||
with foreign countries. Their minds are overladen with a huge burden of
|
||
prejudices and absurd ideas and they have lost or renounced every
|
||
instinct of self-preservation. With those men also the National
|
||
Socialist Movement has to fight a hard battle. And the struggle is all
|
||
the harder because, though very often they are utterly incompetent, they
|
||
are so self-conceited that, without the slightest justification, they
|
||
look down with disdain on ordinary commonsense people. These arrogant
|
||
snobs who pretend to know better than other people, are wholly incapable
|
||
of calmly and coolly analysing a problem and weighing its pros and cons,
|
||
which are the necessary preliminaries of any decision or action in the
|
||
field of foreign politics.
|
||
|
||
It is just this circle which is beginning to-day to divert our foreign
|
||
policy into most disastrous directions and turn it away from the task of
|
||
promoting the real interests of the nation. Seeing that they do this in
|
||
order to serve their own fantastic ideologies, I feel myself obliged to
|
||
take the greatest pains in laying before my own colleagues a clear
|
||
exposition of the most important problem in our foreign policy, namely,
|
||
our position in relation to Russia. I shall deal with it, as thoroughly
|
||
as may be necessary to make it generally understood and as far as the
|
||
limits of this book permit. Let me begin by laying down the following
|
||
postulate:
|
||
|
||
When we speak of foreign politics we understand that domain of
|
||
government which has set before it the task of managing the affairs of a
|
||
nation in its relations with the rest of the world. Now the guiding
|
||
principles which must be followed in managing these affairs must be
|
||
based on the definite facts that are at hand. Moreover, as National
|
||
Socialists, we must lay down the following axiom regarding the manner in
|
||
which the foreign policy of a People's State should be conducted:
|
||
|
||
The foreign policy of a People's State must first of all bear in mind
|
||
the duty of securing the existence of the race which is incorporated in
|
||
this State. And this must be done by establishing a healthy and natural
|
||
proportion between the number and growth of the population on the one
|
||
hand and the extent and resources of the territory they inhabit, on the
|
||
other. That balance must be such that it accords with the vital
|
||
necessities of the people.
|
||
|
||
What I call a HEALTHY proportion is that in which the support of a
|
||
people is guaranteed by the resources of its own soil and sub-soil. Any
|
||
situation which falls short of this condition is none the less unhealthy
|
||
even though it may endure for centuries or even a thousand years. Sooner
|
||
or later, this lack of proportion must of necessity lead to the decline
|
||
or even annihilation of the people concerned.
|
||
|
||
Only a sufficiently large space on this earth can assure the independent
|
||
existence of a people.
|
||
|
||
The extent of the territorial expansion that may be necessary for the
|
||
settlement of the national population must not be estimated by present
|
||
exigencies nor even by the magnitude of its agricultural productivity in
|
||
relation to the number of the population. In the first volume of this
|
||
book, under the heading "Germany's Policy of Alliances before the War,"
|
||
I have already explained that the geometrical dimensions of a State are
|
||
of importance not only as the source of the nation's foodstuffs and raw
|
||
materials, but also from the political and military standpoints. Once a
|
||
people is assured of being able to maintain itself from the resources of
|
||
the national territory, it must think of how this national territory can
|
||
be defended. National security depends on the political strength of a
|
||
State, and this strength, in its turn, depends on the military
|
||
possibilities inherent in the geographical situation.
|
||
|
||
Thus the German nation could assure its own future only by being a World
|
||
Power. For nearly two thousand years the defence of our national
|
||
interests was a matter of world history, as can be seen from our more or
|
||
less successful activities in the field of foreign politics. We
|
||
ourselves have been witnesses to this, seeing that the gigantic struggle
|
||
that went on from 1914 to 1918 was only the struggle of the German
|
||
people for their existence on this earth, and it was carried out in such
|
||
a way that it has become known in history as the World War.
|
||
|
||
When Germany entered this struggle it was presumed that she was a World
|
||
Power. I say PRESUMED, because in reality she was no such thing. In
|
||
1914, if there had been a different proportion between the German
|
||
population and its territorial area, Germany would have been really a
|
||
World Power and, if we leave other factors out of count, the War would
|
||
have ended in our favour.
|
||
|
||
It is not my task nor my intention here to discuss what would have
|
||
happened if certain conditions had been fulfilled. But I feel it
|
||
absolutely incumbent on me to show the present conditions in their bare
|
||
and unadorned reality, insisting on the weakness inherent in them, so
|
||
that at least in the ranks of the National Socialist Movement they
|
||
should receive the necessary recognition.
|
||
|
||
Germany is not at all a World Power to-day. Even though our present
|
||
military weakness could be overcome, we still would have no claim to be
|
||
called a World Power. What importance on earth has a State in which the
|
||
proportion between the size of the population and the territorial area
|
||
is so miserable as in the present German REICH? At an epoch in which the
|
||
world is being gradually portioned out among States many of whom almost
|
||
embrace whole continents one cannot speak of a World Power in the case
|
||
of a State whose political motherland is confined to a territorial area
|
||
of barely five-hundred-thousand square kilometres.
|
||
|
||
Looked at purely from the territorial point of view, the area comprised
|
||
in the German REICH is insignificant in comparison with the other States
|
||
that are called World Powers. England must not be cited here as an
|
||
example to contradict this statement; for the English motherland is in
|
||
reality the great metropolis of the British World Empire, which owns
|
||
almost a fourth of the earth's surface. Next to this we must consider
|
||
the American Union as one of the foremost among the colossal States,
|
||
also Russia and China. These are enormous spaces, some of which are more
|
||
than ten times greater in territorial extent than the present German
|
||
REICH. France must also be ranked among these colossal States. Not only
|
||
because she is adding to the strength of her army in a constantly
|
||
increasing measure by recruiting coloured troops from the population of
|
||
her gigantic empire, but also because France is racially becoming more
|
||
and more negroid, so much so that now one can actually speak of the
|
||
creation of an African State on European soil. The contemporary colonial
|
||
policy of France cannot be compared with that of Germany in the past. If
|
||
France develops along the lines it has taken in our day, and should that
|
||
development continue for the next three hundred years, all traces of
|
||
French blood will finally be submerged in the formation of a
|
||
Euro-African Mulatto State. This would represent a formidable and
|
||
compact colonial territory stretching from the Rhine to the Congo,
|
||
inhabited by an inferior race which had developed through a slow and
|
||
steady process of bastardization.
|
||
|
||
That process distinguishes French colonial policy from the policy
|
||
followed by the old Germany.
|
||
|
||
The former German colonial policy was carried out by half-measures, as
|
||
was almost everything they did at that time. They did not gain an
|
||
expanse of territory for the settlement of German nationals nor did they
|
||
attempt to reinforce the power of the REICH through the enlistment of
|
||
black troops, which would have been a criminal undertaking. The Askari
|
||
in German East Africa represented a small and hesitant step along this
|
||
road; but in reality they served only for the defence of the colony
|
||
itself. The idea of importing black troops to a European theatre of
|
||
war--apart entirely from the practical impossibility of this in the
|
||
World War--was never entertained as a proposal to be carried out under
|
||
favourable circumstances; whereas, on the contrary, the French always
|
||
looked on such an idea as fundamental in their colonial activities.
|
||
|
||
Thus we find in the world to-day not only a number of States that are
|
||
much greater than the German in the mere numerical size of their
|
||
populations, but also possess a greater support for their political
|
||
power. The proportion between the territorial dimensions of the German
|
||
REICH and the numerical size of its population was never so unfavourable
|
||
in comparison with the other world States as at the beginning of our
|
||
history two thousand years ago and again to-day. At the former juncture
|
||
we were a young people and we stormed a world which was made up of great
|
||
States that were already in a decadent condition, of which the last
|
||
giant was Rome, to whose overthrow we contributed. To-day we find
|
||
ourselves in a world of great and powerful States, among which the
|
||
importance of our own REICH is constantly declining more and more.
|
||
|
||
We must always face this bitter truth with clear and calm minds. We must
|
||
study the area and population of the German REICH in relation to the
|
||
other States and compare them down through the centuries. Then we shall
|
||
find that, as I have said, Germany is not a World Power whether its
|
||
military strength be great or not.
|
||
|
||
There is no proportion between our position and that of the other States
|
||
throughout the world. And this lack of proportion is to be attributed to
|
||
the fact that our foreign policy never had a definite aim to attain, and
|
||
also to the fact that we lost every sound impulse and instinct for
|
||
self-preservation.
|
||
|
||
If the historians who are to write our national history at some future
|
||
date are to give the National Socialist Movement the credit of having
|
||
devoted itself to a sacred duty in the service of our people, this
|
||
movement will have to recognize the real truth of our situation in
|
||
regard to the rest of the world. However painful this recognition may
|
||
be, the movement must draw courage from it and a sense of practical
|
||
realities in fighting against the aimlessness and incompetence which has
|
||
hitherto been shown by our people in the conduct of their foreign
|
||
policy. Without respect for 'tradition,' and without any preconceived
|
||
notions, the movement must find the courage to organize our national
|
||
forces and set them on the path which will lead them away from that
|
||
territorial restriction which is the bane of our national life to-day,
|
||
and win new territory for them. Thus the movement will save the German
|
||
people from the danger of perishing or of being slaves in the service of
|
||
any other people.
|
||
|
||
Our movement must seek to abolish the present disastrous proportion
|
||
between our population and the area of our national territory,
|
||
considering national territory as the source of our maintenance or as a
|
||
basis of political power. And it ought to strive to abolish the contrast
|
||
between past history and the hopelessly powerless situation in which we
|
||
are to-day. In striving for this it must bear in mind the fact that we
|
||
are members of the highest species of humanity on this earth, that we
|
||
have a correspondingly high duty, and that we shall fulfil this duty
|
||
only if we inspire the German people with the racial idea, so that they
|
||
will occupy themselves not merely with the breeding of good dogs and
|
||
horses and cats, but also care for the purity of their own blood.
|
||
|
||
When I say that the foreign policy hitherto followed by Germany has been
|
||
without aim and ineffectual, the proof of my statement will be found in
|
||
the actual failures of this policy. Were our people intellectually
|
||
backward, or if they lacked courage, the final results of their efforts
|
||
could not have been worse than what we see to-day. What happened during
|
||
the last decades before the War does not permit of any illusions on this
|
||
point; because we must not measure the strength of a State taken by
|
||
itself, but in comparison with other States. Now, this comparison shows
|
||
that the other States increased their strength in such a measure that
|
||
not only did it balance that of Germany but turned out in the end to be
|
||
greater; so that, contrary to appearances, when compared with the other
|
||
States Germany declined more and more in power until there was a large
|
||
margin in her disfavour. Yes, even in the size of our population we
|
||
remained far behind, and kept on losing ground. Though it is true that
|
||
the courage of our people was not surpassed by that of any other in the
|
||
world and that they poured out more blood than any other nation in
|
||
defence of their existence, their failure was due only to the erroneous
|
||
way in which that courage was turned to practical purposes.
|
||
|
||
In this connection, if we examine the chain of political vicissitudes
|
||
through which our people have passed during more than a thousand years,
|
||
recalling the innumerable struggles and wars and scrutinizing it all in
|
||
the light of the results that are before our eyes to-day, we must
|
||
confess that from the ocean of blood only three phenomena have emerged
|
||
which we must consider as lasting fruits of political happenings
|
||
definitely determined by our foreign policy.
|
||
|
||
(1) The colonization of the Eastern Mark, which was mostly the work of
|
||
the Bajuvari.
|
||
|
||
(2) The conquest and settlement of the territory east of the Elbe.
|
||
|
||
(3) The organization of the Brandenburg-Prussian State, which was the
|
||
work of the Hohenzollerns and which became the model for the
|
||
crystallization of a new REICH.
|
||
|
||
An instructive lesson for the future.
|
||
|
||
These first two great successes of our foreign policy turned out to be
|
||
the most enduring. Without them our people would play no role in the
|
||
world to-day. These achievements were the first and unfortunately the
|
||
only successful attempts to establish a harmony between our increasing
|
||
population and the territory from which it drew its livelihood. And we
|
||
must look upon it as of really fatal import that our German historians
|
||
have never correctly appreciated these formidable facts which were so
|
||
full of importance for the following generations. In contradistinction
|
||
to this, they wrote panegyrics on many other things, fantastic heroism,
|
||
innumerable adventures and wars, without understanding that these latter
|
||
had no significance whatsoever for the main line of our national
|
||
development.
|
||
|
||
The third great success achieved by our political activity was the
|
||
establishment of the Prussian State and the development of a particular
|
||
State concept which grew out of this. To the same source we are to
|
||
attribute the organization of the instinct of national self-preservation
|
||
and self-defence in the German Army, an achievement which suited the
|
||
modern world. The transformation of the idea of self-defence on the part
|
||
of the individual into the duty of national defence is derived from the
|
||
Prussian State and the new statal concept which it introduced. It would
|
||
be impossible to over-estimate the importance of this historical
|
||
process. Disrupted by excessive individualism, the German nation became
|
||
disciplined under the organization of the Prussian Army and in this way
|
||
recovered at least some of the capacity to form a national community,
|
||
which in the case of other people had originally arisen through the
|
||
constructive urge of the herd instinct. Consequently the abolition of
|
||
compulsory national military service--which may have no meaning for
|
||
dozens of other nations--had fatal consequences for us. Ten generations
|
||
of Germans left without the corrective and educative effect of military
|
||
training and delivered over to the evil effects of those dissensions and
|
||
divisions the roots of which lie in their blood and display their force
|
||
also in a disunity of world-outlook--these ten generations would be
|
||
sufficient to allow our people to lose the last relics of an independent
|
||
existence on this earth.
|
||
|
||
The German spirit could then make its contribution to civilization only
|
||
through individuals living under the rule of foreign nations and the
|
||
origin of those individuals would remain unknown. They would remain as
|
||
the fertilizing manure of civilization, until the last residue of
|
||
Nordic-Aryan blood would become corrupted or drained out.
|
||
|
||
It is a remarkable fact that the real political successes achieved by
|
||
our people during their millennial struggles are better appreciated and
|
||
understood among our adversaries than among ourselves. Even still to-day
|
||
we grow enthusiastic about a heroism which robbed our people of millions
|
||
of their best racial stock and turned out completely fruitless in the
|
||
end.
|
||
|
||
The distinction between the real political successes which our people
|
||
achieved in the course of their long history and the futile ends for
|
||
which the blood of the nation has been shed is of supreme importance for
|
||
the determination of our policy now and in the future.
|
||
|
||
We, National Socialists, must never allow ourselves to re-echo the
|
||
hurrah patriotism of our contemporary bourgeois circles. It would be a
|
||
fatal danger for us to look on the immediate developments before the War
|
||
as constituting a precedent which we should be obliged to take into
|
||
account, even though only to the very smallest degree, in choosing our
|
||
own way. We can recognize no obligation devolving on us which may have
|
||
its historical roots in any part of the nineteenth century. In
|
||
contradistinction to the policy of those who represented that period, we
|
||
must take our stand on the principles already mentioned in regard to
|
||
foreign policy: namely, the necessity of bringing our territorial area
|
||
into just proportion with the number of our population. From the past we
|
||
can learn only one lesson. And this is that the aim which is to be
|
||
pursued in our political conduct must be twofold: namely (1) the
|
||
acquisition of territory as the objective of our foreign policy and (2)
|
||
the establishment of a new and uniform foundation as the objective of
|
||
our political activities at home, in accordance with our doctrine of
|
||
nationhood.
|
||
|
||
I shall briefly deal with the question of how far our territorial aims
|
||
are justified according to ethical and moral principles. This is all the
|
||
more necessary here because, in our so-called nationalist circles, there
|
||
are all kinds of plausible phrase-mongers who try to persuade the German
|
||
people that the great aim of their foreign policy ought to be to right
|
||
the wrongs of 1918, while at the same time they consider it incumbent on
|
||
them to assure the whole world of the brotherly spirit and sympathy of
|
||
the German people towards all other nations.
|
||
|
||
In regard to this point I should like to make the following statement:
|
||
To demand that the 1914 frontiers should be restored is a glaring
|
||
political absurdity that is fraught with such consequences as to make
|
||
the claim itself appear criminal. The confines of the REICH as they
|
||
existed in 1914 were thoroughly illogical; because they were not really
|
||
complete, in the sense of including all the members of the German
|
||
nation. Nor were they reasonable, in view of the geographical exigencies
|
||
of military defence. They were not the consequence of a political plan
|
||
which had been well considered and carried out. But they were temporary
|
||
frontiers established in virtue of a political struggle that had not
|
||
been brought to a finish; and indeed they were partly the chance result
|
||
of circumstances. One would have just as good a right, and in many cases
|
||
a better right, to choose some other outstanding year than 1914 in the
|
||
course of our history and demand that the objective of our foreign
|
||
policy should be the re-establishment of the conditions then existing.
|
||
The demands I have mentioned are quite characteristic of our bourgeois
|
||
compatriots, who in such matters take no political thought of the
|
||
future, They live only in the past and indeed only in the immediate
|
||
past; for their retrospect does not go back beyond their own times. The
|
||
law of inertia binds them to the present order of things, leading them
|
||
to oppose every attempt to change this. Their opposition, however, never
|
||
passes over into any kind of active defence. It is only mere passive
|
||
obstinacy. Therefore, we must regard it as quite natural that the
|
||
political horizon of such people should not reach beyond 1914. In
|
||
proclaiming that the aim of their political activities is to have the
|
||
frontiers of that time restored, they only help to close up the rifts
|
||
that are already becoming apparent in the league which our enemies have
|
||
formed against us. Only on these grounds can we explain the fact that
|
||
eight years after a world conflagration in which a number of Allied
|
||
belligerents had aspirations and aims that were partly in conflict with
|
||
one another, the coalition of the victors still remains more or less
|
||
solid.
|
||
|
||
Each of those States in its turn profited by the German collapse. In the
|
||
fear which they all felt before the proof of strength that we had given,
|
||
the Great Powers maintained a mutual silence about their individual
|
||
feelings of envy and enmity towards one another. They felt that the best
|
||
guarantee against a resurgence of our strength in the future would be to
|
||
break up and dismember our REICH as thoroughly as possible. A bad
|
||
conscience and fear of the strength of our people made up the durable
|
||
cement which has held the members of that league together, even up to
|
||
the present moment.
|
||
|
||
And our conduct does not tend to change this state of affairs. Inasmuch
|
||
as our bourgeoisie sets up the restoration of the 1914 frontiers as the
|
||
aim of Germany's political programme, each member of the enemy coalition
|
||
who otherwise might be inclined to withdraw from the combination sticks
|
||
to it, out of fear lest he might be attacked by us if he isolated
|
||
himself and in that case would not have the support of his allies. Each
|
||
individual State feels itself aimed at and threatened by this programme.
|
||
And the programme is absurd, for the following two reasons:
|
||
|
||
(1) Because there are no available means of extricating it from the
|
||
twilight atmosphere of political soirees and transforming it into
|
||
reality.
|
||
|
||
(2) Even if it could be really carried into effect the result would be
|
||
so miserable that, surely to God, it would not be worth while to risk
|
||
the blood of our people once again for such a purpose.
|
||
|
||
For there can be scarcely any doubt whatsoever that only through
|
||
bloodshed could we achieve the restoration of the 1914 frontiers. One
|
||
must have the simple mind of a child to believe that the revision of the
|
||
Versailles Treaty can be obtained by indirect means and by beseeching
|
||
the clemency of the victors; without taking into account the fact that
|
||
for this we should need somebody who had the character of a
|
||
Talleyrand, and there is no Talleyrand among us. Fifty percent of our
|
||
politicians consists of artful dodgers who have no character and are
|
||
quite hostile to the sympathies of our people, while the other fifty per
|
||
cent is made up of well-meaning, harmless, and complaisant incompetents.
|
||
Times have changed since the Congress of Vienna. It is no longer princes
|
||
or their courtesans who contend and bargain about State frontiers, but
|
||
the inexorable cosmopolitan Jew who is fighting for his own dominion
|
||
over the nations. The sword is the only means whereby a nation can
|
||
thrust that clutch from its throat. Only when national sentiment is
|
||
organized and concentrated into an effective force can it defy that
|
||
international menace which tends towards an enslavement of the nations.
|
||
But this road is and will always be marked with bloodshed.
|
||
|
||
If we are once convinced that the future of Germany calls for the
|
||
sacrifice, in one way or another, of all that we have and are, then we
|
||
must set aside considerations of political prudence and devote ourselves
|
||
wholly to the struggle for a future that will be worthy of our country.
|
||
|
||
For the future of the German nation the 1914 frontiers are of no
|
||
significance. They did not serve to protect us in the past, nor do they
|
||
offer any guarantee for our defence in the future. With these frontiers
|
||
the German people cannot maintain themselves as a compact unit, nor can
|
||
they be assured of their maintenance. From the military viewpoint these
|
||
frontiers are not advantageous or even such as not to cause anxiety. And
|
||
while we are bound to such frontiers it will not be possible for us to
|
||
improve our present position in relation to the other World Powers, or
|
||
rather in relation to the real World Powers. We shall not lessen the
|
||
discrepancy between our territory and that of Great Britain, nor shall
|
||
we reach the magnitude of the United States of America. Not only that,
|
||
but we cannot substantially lessen the importance of France in
|
||
international politics.
|
||
|
||
One thing alone is certain: The attempt to restore the frontiers of
|
||
1914, even if it turned out successful, would demand so much bloodshed
|
||
on the part of our people that no future sacrifice would be possible to
|
||
carry out effectively such measures as would be necessary to assure the
|
||
future existence of the nation. On the contrary, under the intoxication
|
||
of such a superficial success further aims would be renounced, all the
|
||
more so because the so-called 'national honour' would seem to be
|
||
revindicated and new ports would be opened, at least for a certain time,
|
||
to our commercial development.
|
||
|
||
Against all this we, National Socialists, must stick firmly to the aim
|
||
that we have set for our foreign policy; namely, that the German people
|
||
must be assured the territorial area which is necessary for it to exist
|
||
on this earth. And only for such action as is undertaken to secure those
|
||
ends can it be lawful in the eyes of God and our German posterity to
|
||
allow the blood of our people to be shed once again. Before God, because
|
||
we are sent into this world with the commission to struggle for our
|
||
daily bread, as creatures to whom nothing is donated and who must be
|
||
able to win and hold their position as lords of the earth only through
|
||
their own intelligence and courage. And this justification must be
|
||
established also before our German posterity, on the grounds that for
|
||
each one who has shed his blood the life of a thousand others will be
|
||
guaranteed to posterity. The territory on which one day our German
|
||
peasants will be able to bring forth and nourish their sturdy sons will
|
||
justify the blood of the sons of the peasants that has to be shed
|
||
to-day. And the statesmen who will have decreed this sacrifice may be
|
||
persecuted by their contemporaries, but posterity will absolve them from
|
||
all guilt for having demanded this offering from their people.
|
||
|
||
Here I must protest as sharply as possible against those nationalist
|
||
scribes who pretend that such territorial extension would be a
|
||
"violation of the sacred rights of man" and accordingly pour out their
|
||
literary effusions against it. One never knows what are the hidden
|
||
forces behind the activities of such persons. But it is certain that the
|
||
confusion which they provoke suits the game our enemies are playing
|
||
against our nation and is in accordance with their wishes. By taking
|
||
such an attitude these scribes contribute criminally to weaken from the
|
||
inside and to destroy the will of our people to promote their own vital
|
||
interests by the only effective means that can be used for that purpose.
|
||
For no nation on earth possesses a square yard of ground and soil by
|
||
decree of a higher Will and in virtue of a higher Right. The German
|
||
frontiers are the outcome of chance, and are only temporary frontiers
|
||
that have been established as the result of political struggles which
|
||
took place at various times. The same is also true of the frontiers
|
||
which demarcate the territories on which other nations live. And just as
|
||
only an imbecile could look on the physical geography of the globe as
|
||
fixed and unchangeable--for in reality it represents a definite stage in
|
||
a given evolutionary epoch which is due to the formidable forces of
|
||
Nature and may be altered to-morrow by more powerful forces of
|
||
destruction and change--so, too, in the lives of the nations the
|
||
confines which are necessary for their sustenance are subject to change.
|
||
|
||
State frontiers are established by human beings and may be changed by
|
||
human beings.
|
||
|
||
The fact that a nation has acquired an enormous territorial area is no
|
||
reason why it should hold that territory perpetually. At most, the
|
||
possession of such territory is a proof of the strength of the conqueror
|
||
and the weakness of those who submit to him. And in this strength alone
|
||
lives the right of possession. If the German people are imprisoned
|
||
within an impossible territorial area and for that reason are face to
|
||
face with a miserable future, this is not by the command of Destiny, and
|
||
the refusal to accept such a situation is by no means a violation of
|
||
Destiny's laws. For just as no Higher Power has promised more territory
|
||
to other nations than to the German, so it cannot be blamed for an
|
||
unjust distribution of the soil. The soil on which we now live was not a
|
||
gift bestowed by Heaven on our forefathers. But they had to conquer it
|
||
by risking their lives. So also in the future our people will not obtain
|
||
territory, and therewith the means of existence, as a favour from any
|
||
other people, but will have to win it by the power of a triumphant
|
||
sword.
|
||
|
||
To-day we are all convinced of the necessity of regulating our situation
|
||
in regard to France; but our success here will be ineffective in its
|
||
broad results if the general aims of our foreign policy will have to
|
||
stop at that. It can have significance for us only if it serves to cover
|
||
our flank in the struggle for that extension of territory which is
|
||
necessary for the existence of our people in Europe. For colonial
|
||
acquisitions will not solve that question. It can be solved only by the
|
||
winning of such territory for the settlement of our people as will
|
||
extend the area of the motherland and thereby will not only keep the new
|
||
settlers in the closest communion with the land of their origin, but
|
||
will guarantee to this territorial ensemble the advantages which arise
|
||
from the fact that in their expansion over greater territory the people
|
||
remain united as a political unit.
|
||
|
||
The National Movement must not be the advocate for other nations, but
|
||
the protagonist for its own nation. Otherwise it would be something
|
||
superfluous and, above all, it would have no right to clamour against
|
||
the action of the past; for then it would be repeating the action of the
|
||
past. The old German policy suffered from the mistake of having been
|
||
determined by dynastic considerations. The new German policy must not
|
||
follow the sentimentality of cosmopolitan patriotism. Above all, we must
|
||
not form a police guard for the famous 'poor small nations'; but we must
|
||
be the soldiers of the German nation.
|
||
|
||
We National Socialists have to go still further. The right to territory
|
||
may become a duty when a great nation seems destined to go under unless
|
||
its territory be extended. And that is particularly true when the nation
|
||
in question is not some little group of negro people but the Germanic
|
||
mother of all the life which has given cultural shape to the modern
|
||
world. Germany will either become a World Power or will not continue to
|
||
exist at all. But in order to become a World Power it needs that
|
||
territorial magnitude which gives it the necessary importance to-day and
|
||
assures the existence of its citizens.
|
||
|
||
Therefore we National Socialists have purposely drawn a line through the
|
||
line of conduct followed by pre-War Germany in foreign policy. We put an
|
||
end to the perpetual Germanic march towards the South and West of Europe
|
||
and turn our eyes towards the lands of the East. We finally put a stop
|
||
to the colonial and trade policy of pre-War times and pass over to the
|
||
territorial policy of the future.
|
||
|
||
But when we speak of new territory in Europe to-day we must principally
|
||
think of Russia and the border States subject to her.
|
||
|
||
Destiny itself seems to wish to point out the way for us here. In
|
||
delivering Russia over to Bolshevism, Fate robbed the Russian people of
|
||
that intellectual class which had once created the Russian State and
|
||
were the guarantee of its existence. For the Russian State was not
|
||
organized by the constructive political talent of the Slav element in
|
||
Russia, but was much more a marvellous exemplification of the capacity
|
||
for State-building possessed by the Germanic element in a race of
|
||
inferior worth. Thus were many powerful Empires created all over the
|
||
earth. More often than once inferior races with Germanic organizers and
|
||
rulers as their leaders became formidable States and continued to exist
|
||
as long as the racial nucleus remained which had originally created each
|
||
respective State. For centuries Russia owed the source of its livelihood
|
||
as a State to the Germanic nucleus of its governing class. But this
|
||
nucleus is now almost wholly broken up and abolished. The Jew has taken
|
||
its place. Just as it is impossible for the Russian to shake off the
|
||
Jewish yoke by exerting his own powers, so, too, it is impossible for
|
||
the Jew to keep this formidable State in existence for any long period
|
||
of time. He himself is by no means an organizing element, but rather a
|
||
ferment of decomposition. This colossal Empire in the East is ripe for
|
||
dissolution. And the end of the Jewish domination in Russia will also be
|
||
the end of Russia as a State. We are chosen by Destiny to be the
|
||
witnesses of a catastrophe which will afford the strongest confirmation
|
||
of the nationalist theory of race.
|
||
|
||
But it is our task, and it is the mission of the National Socialist
|
||
Movement, to develop in our people that political mentality which will
|
||
enable them to realize that the aim which they must set to themselves
|
||
for the fulfilment of their future must not be some wildly enthusiastic
|
||
adventure in the footsteps of Alexander the Great but industrious labour
|
||
with the German plough, for which the German sword will provide the
|
||
soil.
|
||
|
||
That the Jew should declare himself bitterly hostile to such a policy is
|
||
only quite natural. For the Jews know better than any others what the
|
||
adoption of this line of conduct must mean for their own future. That
|
||
fact alone ought to teach all genuine nationalists that this new
|
||
orientation is the right and just one. But, unfortunately, the opposite
|
||
is the case. Not only among the members of the German-National Party but
|
||
also in purely nationalist circles violent opposition is raised against
|
||
this Eastern policy. And in connection with that opposition, as in all
|
||
such cases, the authority of great names is appealed to. The spirit of
|
||
Bismarck is evoked in defence of a policy which is as stupid as it is
|
||
impossible, and is in the highest degree detrimental to the interests of
|
||
the German people. They say that Bismarck laid great importance on the
|
||
value of good relations with Russia. To a certain extent, that is true.
|
||
But they quite forget to add that he laid equal stress on the importance
|
||
of good relations with Italy, for example. Indeed, the same Herr von
|
||
Bismarck once concluded an alliance with Italy so that he might more
|
||
easily settle accounts with Austria. Why is not this policy now
|
||
advocated? They will reply that the Italy of to-day is not the Italy of
|
||
that time. Good. But then, honourable sirs, permit me to remind you that
|
||
the Russia of to-day is no longer the Russia of that time. Bismarck
|
||
never laid down a policy which would be permanently binding under all
|
||
circumstances and should be adhered to on principle. He was too much the
|
||
master of the moment to burden himself with that kind of obligation.
|
||
Therefore, the question ought not to be what Bismarck then did, but
|
||
rather what he would do to-day. And that question is very easy to
|
||
answer. His political sagacity would never allow him to ally himself
|
||
with a State that is doomed to disappear.
|
||
|
||
Moreover, Bismarck looked upon the colonial and trade policy of his time
|
||
with mixed feelings, because what he most desired was to assure the best
|
||
possibilities of consolidating and internally strengthening the state
|
||
system which he himself had created. That was the sole ground on which
|
||
he then welcomed the Russian defence in his rear, so as to give him a
|
||
free hand for his activities in the West. But what was advantageous then
|
||
to Germany would now be detrimental.
|
||
|
||
As early as 1920-21, when the young movement began slowly to appear on
|
||
the political horizon and movements for the liberation of the German
|
||
nation were formed here and there, the Party was approached from various
|
||
quarters in an attempt to bring it into definite connection with the
|
||
liberationist movements in other countries. This was in line with the
|
||
plans of the 'League of Oppressed Nations', which had been advertised in
|
||
many quarters and was composed principally of representatives of some of
|
||
the Balkan States and also of Egypt and India. These always impressed me
|
||
as charlatans who gave themselves big airs but had no real background at
|
||
all. Not a few Germans, however, especially in the nationalist camp,
|
||
allowed themselves to be taken in by these pompous Orientals, and in the
|
||
person of some wandering Indian or Egyptian student they believed at
|
||
once that they were face to face with a 'representative' of India or
|
||
Egypt. They did not realize that in most cases they were dealing with
|
||
persons who had no backing whatsoever, who were not authorized by
|
||
anybody to conclude any sort of agreement whatsoever; so that the
|
||
practical result of every negotiation with such individuals was negative
|
||
and the time spent in such dealings had to be reckoned as utterly lost.
|
||
I was always on my guard against these attempts. Not only that I had
|
||
something better to do than to waste weeks in such sterile
|
||
'discussions', but also because I believed that even if one were dealing
|
||
with genuine representatives that whole affair would be bound to turn
|
||
out futile, if not positively harmful.
|
||
|
||
In peace-time it was already lamentable enough that the policy of
|
||
alliances, because it had no active and aggressive aims in view, ended
|
||
in a defensive association with antiquated States that had been
|
||
pensioned off by the history of the world. The alliance with Austria, as
|
||
well as that with Turkey, was not much to be joyful about. While the
|
||
great military and industrial States of the earth had come together in a
|
||
league for purposes of active aggression, a few old and effete States
|
||
were collected, and with this antique bric-<2D>-brac an attempt was made to
|
||
face an active world coalition. Germany had to pay dearly for that
|
||
mistaken foreign policy and yet not dearly enough to prevent our
|
||
incorrigible visionaries from falling back into the same error again.
|
||
For the attempt to make possible the disarmament of the all-powerful
|
||
victorious States through a 'League of Oppressed Nations' is not only
|
||
ridiculous but disastrous. It is disastrous because in that way the
|
||
German people are again being diverted from real possibilities, which
|
||
they abandon for the sake of fruitless hopes and illusions. In reality
|
||
the German of to-day is like a drowning man that clutches at any straw
|
||
which may float beside him. And one finds people doing this who are
|
||
otherwise highly educated. Wherever some will-o'-the-wisp of a fantastic
|
||
hope appears these people set off immediately to chase it. Let this be a
|
||
League of Oppressed Nations, a League of Nations, or some other
|
||
fantastic invention, thousands of ingenuous souls will always be found
|
||
to believe in it.
|
||
|
||
I remember well the childish and incomprehensible hopes which arose
|
||
suddenly in nationalist circles in the years 1920-21 to the effect that
|
||
England was just nearing its downfall in India. A few Asiatic
|
||
mountebanks, who put themselves forward as "the champions of Indian
|
||
Freedom", then began to peregrinate throughout Europe and succeeded in
|
||
inspiring otherwise quite reasonable people with the fixed notion that
|
||
the British World Empire, which had its pivot in India, was just about
|
||
to collapse there. They never realized that their own wish was the
|
||
father of all these ideas. Nor did they stop to think how absurd their
|
||
wishes were. For inasmuch as they expected the end of the British Empire
|
||
and of England's power to follow the collapse of its dominion over
|
||
India, they themselves admitted that India was of the most outstanding
|
||
importance for England.
|
||
|
||
Now in all likelihood the deep mysteries of this most important problem
|
||
must have been known not only to the German-National prophets but also
|
||
to those who had the direction of British history in their hands. It is
|
||
right down puerile to suppose that in England itself the importance of
|
||
India for the British Empire was not adequately appreciated. And it is a
|
||
proof of having learned nothing from the world war and of thoroughly
|
||
misunderstanding or knowing nothing about Anglo-Saxon determination,
|
||
when they imagine that England could lose India without first having put
|
||
forth the last ounce of her strength in the struggle to hold it.
|
||
Moreover, it shows how complete is the ignorance prevailing in Germany
|
||
as to the manner in which the spirit of England permeates and
|
||
administers her Empire. England will never lose India unless she admits
|
||
racial disruption in the machinery of her administration (which at
|
||
present is entirely out of the question in India) or unless she is
|
||
overcome by the sword of some powerful enemy. But Indian risings will
|
||
never bring this about. We Germans have had sufficient experience to
|
||
know how hard it is to coerce England. And, apart from all this, I as a
|
||
German would far rather see India under British domination than under
|
||
that of any other nation.
|
||
|
||
The hopes of an epic rising in Egypt were just as chimerical. The 'Holy
|
||
War' may bring the pleasing illusion to our German nincompoops that
|
||
others are now ready to shed their blood for them. Indeed, this cowardly
|
||
speculation is almost always the father of such hopes. But in reality
|
||
the illusion would soon be brought to an end under the fusillade from a
|
||
few companies of British machine-guns and a hail of British bombs.
|
||
|
||
A coalition of cripples cannot attack a powerful State which is
|
||
determined, if necessary, to shed the last drop of its blood to maintain
|
||
its existence. To me, as a nationalist who appreciates the worth of the
|
||
racial basis of humanity, I must recognize the racial inferiority of the
|
||
so-called 'Oppressed Nations', and that is enough to prevent me from
|
||
linking the destiny of my people with the destiny of those inferior
|
||
races.
|
||
|
||
To-day we must take up the same sort of attitude also towards Russia.
|
||
The Russia of to-day, deprived of its Germanic ruling class, is not a
|
||
possible ally in the struggle for German liberty, setting aside entirely
|
||
the inner designs of its new rulers. From the purely military viewpoint
|
||
a Russo-German coalition waging war against Western Europe, and probably
|
||
against the whole world on that account, would be catastrophic for us.
|
||
The struggle would have to be fought out, not on Russian but on German
|
||
territory, without Germany being able to receive from Russia the
|
||
slightest effective support. The means of power at the disposal of the
|
||
present German REICH are so miserable and so inadequate to the waging of
|
||
a foreign war that it would be impossible to defend our frontiers
|
||
against Western Europe, England included. And the industrial area of
|
||
Germany would have to be abandoned undefended to the concentrated attack
|
||
of our adversaries. It must be added that between Germany and Russia
|
||
there is the Polish State, completely in the hands of the French. In
|
||
case Germany and Russia together should wage war against Western Europe,
|
||
Russia would have to overthrow Poland before the first Russian soldier
|
||
could arrive on the German front. But it is not so much a question of
|
||
soldiers as of technical equipment. In this regard we should have our
|
||
situation in the world war repeated, but in a more terrible manner. At
|
||
that time German industry had to be drained to help our glorious allies,
|
||
and from the technical side Germany had to carry on the war almost
|
||
alone. In this new hypothetical war Russia, as a technical factor, would
|
||
count for nothing. We should have practically nothing to oppose to the
|
||
general motorization of the world, which in the next war will make its
|
||
appearance in an overwhelming and decisive form. In this important field
|
||
Germany has not only shamefully lagged behind, but with the little it
|
||
has it would have to reinforce Russia, which at the present moment does
|
||
not possess a single factory capable of producing a motor gun-wagon.
|
||
Under such conditions the presupposed coming struggle would assume the
|
||
character of sheer slaughter. The German youth would have to shed more
|
||
of its blood than it did even in the world war; for, as always, the
|
||
honour of fighting will fall on us alone, and the result would be an
|
||
inevitable catastrophe. But even admitting that a miracle were produced
|
||
and that this war did not end in the total annihilation of Germany, the
|
||
final result would be that the German nation would be bled white, and,
|
||
surrounded by great military States, its real situation would be in no
|
||
way ameliorated.
|
||
|
||
It is useless to object here that in case of an alliance with Russia we
|
||
should not think of an immediate war or that, anyhow, we should have
|
||
means of making thorough preparations for war. No. An alliance which is
|
||
not for the purpose of waging war has no meaning and no value. Even
|
||
though at the moment when an alliance is concluded the prospect of war
|
||
is a distant one, still the idea of the situation developing towards war
|
||
is the profound reason for entering into an alliance. It is out of the
|
||
question to think that the other Powers would be deceived as to the
|
||
purpose of such an alliance. A Russo-German coalition would remain
|
||
either a matter of so much paper--and in this case it would have no
|
||
meaning for us--or the letter of the treaty would be put into practice
|
||
visibly, and in that case the rest of the world would be warned. It
|
||
would be childish to think that in such circumstances England and France
|
||
would wait for ten years to give the Russo-German alliance time to
|
||
complete its technical preparations. No. The storm would break over
|
||
Germany immediately.
|
||
|
||
Therefore the fact of forming an alliance with Russia would be the
|
||
signal for a new war. And the result of that would be the end of
|
||
Germany.
|
||
|
||
To these considerations the following must be added:
|
||
|
||
(1) Those who are in power in Russia to-day have no idea of forming an
|
||
honourable alliance or of remaining true to it, if they did.
|
||
|
||
It must never be forgotten that the present rulers of Russia are
|
||
blood-stained criminals, that here we have the dregs of humanity which,
|
||
favoured by the circumstances of a tragic moment, overran a great State,
|
||
degraded and extirpated millions of educated people out of sheer
|
||
blood-lust, and that now for nearly ten years they have ruled with such
|
||
a savage tyranny as was never known before. It must not be forgotten
|
||
that these rulers belong to a people in whom the most bestial cruelty is
|
||
allied with a capacity for artful mendacity and believes itself to-day
|
||
more than ever called to impose its sanguinary despotism on the rest of
|
||
the world. It must not be forgotten that the international Jew, who is
|
||
to-day the absolute master of Russia, does not look upon Germany as an
|
||
ally but as a State condemned to the same doom as Russia. One does not
|
||
form an alliance with a partner whose only aim is the destruction of his
|
||
fellow-partner. Above all, one does not enter into alliances with people
|
||
for whom no treaty is sacred; because they do not move about this earth
|
||
as men of honour and sincerity but as the representatives of lies and
|
||
deception, thievery and plunder and robbery. The man who thinks that he
|
||
can bind himself by treaty with parasites is like the tree that believes
|
||
it can form a profitable bargain with the ivy that surrounds it.
|
||
|
||
(2) The menace to which Russia once succumbed is hanging steadily over
|
||
Germany. Only a bourgeois simpleton could imagine that Bolshevism can be
|
||
tamed. In his superficial way of thinking he does not suspect that here
|
||
we are dealing with a phenomenon that is due to an urge of the blood:
|
||
namely, the aspiration of the Jewish people to become the despots of the
|
||
world. That aspiration is quite as natural as the impulse of the
|
||
Anglo-Saxon to sit in the seats of rulership all over the earth. And as
|
||
the Anglo-Saxon chooses his own way of reaching those ends and fights
|
||
for them with his characteristic weapons, so also does the Jew. The Jew
|
||
wriggles his way in among the body of the nations and bores them hollow
|
||
from inside. The weapons with which he works are lies and calumny,
|
||
poisonous infection and disintegration, until he has ruined his hated
|
||
adversary. In Russian Bolshevism we ought to recognize the kind of
|
||
attempt which is being made by the Jew in the twentieth century to
|
||
secure dominion over the world. In other epochs he worked towards the
|
||
same goal but with different, though at bottom similar, means. The kind
|
||
of effort which the Jew puts forth springs from the deepest roots in the
|
||
nature of his being. A people does not of itself renounce the impulse to
|
||
increase its stock and power. Only external circumstances or senile
|
||
impotence can force them to renounce this urge. In the same way the Jew
|
||
will never spontaneously give up his march towards the goal of world
|
||
dictatorship or repress his external urge. He can be thrown back on his
|
||
road only by forces that are exterior to him, for his instinct towards
|
||
world domination will die out only with himself. The impotence of
|
||
nations and their extinction through senility can come only when their
|
||
blood has remained no longer pure. And the Jewish people preserve the
|
||
purity of their blood better than any other nation on earth. Therefore
|
||
the Jew follows his destined road until he is opposed by a force
|
||
superior to him. And then a desperate struggle takes place to send back
|
||
to Lucifer him who would assault the heavens.
|
||
|
||
To-day Germany is the next battlefield for Russian Bolshevism. All the
|
||
force of a fresh missionary idea is needed to raise up our nation once
|
||
more, to rescue it from the coils of the international serpent and stop
|
||
the process of corruption which is taking place in the internal
|
||
constitution of our blood; so that the forces of our nation, once
|
||
liberated, may be employed to preserve our nationality and prevent the
|
||
repetition of the recent catastrophe from taking place even in the most
|
||
distant future. If this be the goal we set to ourselves it would be
|
||
folly to ally ourselves with a country whose master is the mortal enemy
|
||
of our future. How can we release our people from this poisonous grip if
|
||
we accept the same grip ourselves? How can we teach the German worker
|
||
that Bolshevism is an infamous crime against humanity if we ally
|
||
ourselves with this infernal abortion and recognize its existence as
|
||
legitimate. With what right shall we condemn the members of the broad
|
||
masses whose sympathies lie with a certain WELTANSCHAUUNG if the rulers
|
||
of our State choose the representatives of that WELTANSCHAUUNG as their
|
||
allies? The struggle against the Jewish Bolshevization of the world
|
||
demands that we should declare our position towards Soviet Russia. We
|
||
cannot cast out the Devil through Beelzebub. If nationalist circles
|
||
to-day grow enthusiastic about the idea of an alliance with Bolshevism,
|
||
then let them look around only in Germany and recognize from what
|
||
quarter they are being supported. Do these nationalists believe that a
|
||
policy which is recommended and acclaimed by the Marxist international
|
||
Press can be beneficial for the German people? Since when has the Jew
|
||
acted as shield-bearer for the militant nationalist?
|
||
|
||
One special reproach which could be made against the old German REICH
|
||
with regard to its policy of alliances was that it spoiled its relations
|
||
towards all others by continually swinging now this way and now that way
|
||
and by its weakness in trying to preserve world peace at all costs. But
|
||
one reproach which cannot be made against it is that it did not continue
|
||
to maintain good relations with Russia.
|
||
|
||
I admit frankly that before the War I thought it would have been better
|
||
if Germany had abandoned her senseless colonial policy and her naval
|
||
policy and had joined England in an alliance against Russia, therewith
|
||
renouncing her weak world policy for a determined European policy, with
|
||
the idea of acquiring new territory on the Continent. I do not forget
|
||
the constant insolent threats which Pan-Slavist Russia made against
|
||
Germany. I do not forget the continual trial mobilizations, the sole
|
||
object of which was to irritate Germany. I cannot forget the tone of
|
||
public opinion in Russia which in pre-War days excelled itself in
|
||
hate-inspired outbursts against our nation and REICH. Nor can I forget
|
||
the big Russian Press which was always more favourable to France than to
|
||
us.
|
||
|
||
But, in spite of everything, there was still a second way possible
|
||
before the War. We might have won the support of Russia and turned
|
||
against England. Circumstances are entirely different to-day. If, before
|
||
the War, throwing all sentiment to the winds, we could have marched by
|
||
the side of Russia, that is no longer possible for us to-day. Since then
|
||
the hand of the world-clock has moved forward. The hour has struck and
|
||
struck loudly, when the destiny of our people must be decided one way or
|
||
another.
|
||
|
||
The present consolidation of the great States of the world is the last
|
||
warning signal for us to look to ourselves and bring our people back
|
||
from their land of visions to the land of hard truth and point the way
|
||
into the future, on which alone the old REICH can march triumphantly
|
||
once again.
|
||
|
||
If, in view of this great and most important task placed before it, the
|
||
National Socialist Movement sets aside all illusions and takes reason as
|
||
its sole effective guide the catastrophe of 1918 may turn out to be an
|
||
infinite blessing for the future of our nation. From the lesson of that
|
||
collapse it may formulate an entirely new orientation for the conduct of
|
||
its foreign policy. Internally reinforced through its new
|
||
WELTANSCHAUUNG, the German nation may reach a final stabilization of
|
||
its policy towards the outside world. It may end by gaining what England
|
||
has, what even Russia had, and what France again and again utilized as
|
||
the ultimate grounds on which she was able to base correct decisions for
|
||
her own interests: namely, A Political Testament. Political Testament of
|
||
the German Nation ought to lay down the following rules, which will be
|
||
always valid for its conduct towards the outside world:
|
||
|
||
Never permit two Continental Powers to arise in Europe. Should any
|
||
attempt be made to organize a second military Power on the German
|
||
frontier by the creation of a State which may become a Military Power,
|
||
with the prospect of an aggression against Germany in view, such an
|
||
event confers on Germany not only the right but the duty to prevent by
|
||
every means, including military means, the creation of such a State and
|
||
to crush it if created. See to it that the strength of our nation does
|
||
not rest on colonial foundations but on those of our own native
|
||
territory in Europe. Never consider the REICH secure unless, for
|
||
centuries to come, it is in a position to give every descendant of our
|
||
race a piece of ground and soil that he can call his own. Never forget
|
||
that the most sacred of all rights in this world is man's right to the
|
||
earth which he wishes to cultivate for himself and that the holiest of
|
||
all sacrifices is that of the blood poured out for it.
|
||
|
||
I should not like to close this chapter without referring once again to
|
||
the one sole possibility of alliances that exists for us in Europe at
|
||
the present moment. In speaking of the German alliance problem in the
|
||
present chapter I mentioned England and Italy as the only countries with
|
||
which it would be worth while for us to strive to form a close alliance
|
||
and that this alliance would be advantageous. I should like here to
|
||
underline again the military importance of such an alliance.
|
||
|
||
The military consequences of forming this alliance would be the direct
|
||
opposite of the consequences of an alliance with Russia. Most important
|
||
of all is the fact that a RAPPROCHEMENT with England and Italy would in
|
||
no way involve a danger of war. The only Power that could oppose such an
|
||
arrangement would be France; and France would not be in a position to
|
||
make war. But the alliance should allow to Germany the possibility of
|
||
making those preparations in all tranquillity which, within the
|
||
framework of such a coalition, might in one way or another be requisite
|
||
in view of a regulation of accounts with France. For the full
|
||
significance of such an alliance lies in the fact that on its conclusion
|
||
Germany would no longer be subject to the threat of a sudden invasion.
|
||
The coalition against her would disappear automatically; that is to say,
|
||
the Entente which brought such disaster to us. Thus France, the mortal
|
||
enemy of our people, would be isolated. And even though at first this
|
||
success would have only a moral effect, it would be sufficient to give
|
||
Germany such liberty of action as we cannot now imagine. For the new
|
||
Anglo-German-Italian alliance would hold the political initiative and no
|
||
longer France.
|
||
|
||
A further success would be that at one stroke Germany would be delivered
|
||
from her unfavourable strategical situation. On the one side her flank
|
||
would be strongly protected; and, on the other, the assurance of being
|
||
able to import her foodstuffs and raw materials would be a beneficial
|
||
result of this new alignment of States. But almost of greater importance
|
||
would be the fact that this new League would include States that possess
|
||
technical qualities which mutually supplement each other. For the first
|
||
time Germany would have allies who would not be as vampires on her
|
||
economic body but would contribute their part to complete our technical
|
||
equipment. And we must not forget a final fact: namely, that in this
|
||
case we should not have allies resembling Turkey and Russia to-day. The
|
||
greatest World Power on this earth and a young national State would
|
||
supply far other elements for a struggle in Europe than the putrescent
|
||
carcasses of the States with which Germany was allied in the last war.
|
||
|
||
As I have already said, great difficulties would naturally be made to
|
||
hinder the conclusion of such an alliance. But was not the formation of
|
||
the Entente somewhat more difficult? Where King Edward VII succeeded
|
||
partly against interests that were of their nature opposed to his work
|
||
we must and will succeed, if the recognition of the necessity of such a
|
||
development so inspires us that we shall be able to act with skill and
|
||
conquer our own feelings in carrying the policy through. This will be
|
||
possible when, incited to action by the miseries of our situation, we
|
||
shall adopt a definite purpose and follow it out systematically instead
|
||
of the defective foreign policy of the last decades, which never had a
|
||
fixed purpose in view.
|
||
|
||
The future goal of our foreign policy ought not to involve an
|
||
orientation to the East or the West, but it ought to be an Eastern
|
||
policy which will have in view the acquisition of such territory as is
|
||
necessary for our German people. To carry out this policy we need that
|
||
force which the mortal enemy of our nation, France, now deprives us of
|
||
by holding us in her grip and pitilessly robbing us of our strength.
|
||
Therefore we must stop at no sacrifice in our effort to destroy the
|
||
French striving towards hegemony over Europe. As our natural ally to-day
|
||
we have every Power on the Continent that feels France's lust for
|
||
hegemony in Europe unbearable. No attempt to approach those Powers ought
|
||
to appear too difficult for us, and no sacrifice should be considered
|
||
too heavy, if the final outcome would be to make it possible for us to
|
||
overthrow our bitterest enemy. The minor wounds will be cured by the
|
||
beneficent influence of time, once the ground wounds have been
|
||
cauterized and closed.
|
||
|
||
Naturally the internal enemies of our people will howl with rage. But
|
||
this will not succeed in forcing us as National Socialists to cease our
|
||
preaching in favour of that which our most profound conviction tells us
|
||
to be necessary. We must oppose the current of public opinion which will
|
||
be driven mad by Jewish cunning in exploiting our German
|
||
thoughtlessness. The waves of this public opinion often rage and roar
|
||
against us; but the man who swims with the current attracts less
|
||
attention than he who buffets it. To-day we are but a rock in the river.
|
||
In a few years Fate may raise us up as a dam against which the general
|
||
current will be broken, only to flow forward in a new bed. Therefore it
|
||
is necessary that in the eyes of the rest of the world our movement
|
||
should be recognized as representing a definite and determined political
|
||
programme. We ought to bear on our visors the distinguishing sign of
|
||
that task which Heaven expects us to fulfil.
|
||
|
||
When we ourselves are fully aware of the ineluctable necessity which
|
||
determines our external policy this knowledge will fill us with the grit
|
||
which we need in order to stand up with equanimity under the bombardment
|
||
launched against us by the enemy Press and to hold firm when some
|
||
insinuating voice whispers that we ought to give ground here and there
|
||
in order not to have all against us and that we might sometimes howl
|
||
with the wolves.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
CHAPTER XV
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
THE RIGHT TO SELF-DEFENCE
|
||
|
||
|
||
After we had laid down our arms, in November 1918, a policy was adopted
|
||
which in all human probability was bound to lead gradually to our
|
||
complete subjugation. Analogous examples from history show that those
|
||
nations which lay down their arms without being absolutely forced to do
|
||
so subsequently prefer to submit to the greatest humiliations and
|
||
exactions rather than try to change their fate by resorting to arms
|
||
again.
|
||
|
||
That is intelligible on purely human grounds. A shrewd conqueror will
|
||
always enforce his exactions on the conquered only by stages, as far as
|
||
that is possible. Then he may expect that a people who have lost all
|
||
strength of character--which is always the case with every nation that
|
||
voluntarily submits to the threats of an opponent--will not find in any
|
||
of these acts of oppression, if one be enforced apart from the other,
|
||
sufficient grounds for taking up arms again. The more numerous the
|
||
extortions thus passively accepted so much the less will resistance
|
||
appear justified in the eyes of other people, if the vanquished nation
|
||
should end by revolting against the last act of oppression in a long
|
||
series. And that is specially so if the nation has already patiently and
|
||
silently accepted impositions which were much more exacting.
|
||
|
||
The fall of Carthage is a terrible example of the slow agony of a people
|
||
which ended in destruction and which was the fault of the people
|
||
themselves.
|
||
|
||
In his THREE ARTICLES OF FAITH Clausewitz expressed this idea admirably
|
||
and gave it a definite form when he said: "The stigma of shame incurred
|
||
by a cowardly submission can never be effaced. The drop of poison which
|
||
thus enters the blood of a nation will be transmitted to posterity. It
|
||
will undermine and paralyse the strength of later generations." But, on
|
||
the contrary, he added: "Even the loss of its liberty after a sanguinary
|
||
and honourable struggle assures the resurgence of the nation and is the
|
||
vital nucleus from which one day a new tree can draw firm roots."
|
||
|
||
Naturally a nation which has lost all sense of honour and all strength
|
||
of character will not feel the force of such a doctrine. But any nation
|
||
that takes it to heart will never fall very low. Only those who forget
|
||
it or do not wish to acknowledge it will collapse. Hence those
|
||
responsible for a cowardly submission cannot be expected suddenly to
|
||
take thought with themselves, for the purpose of changing their former
|
||
conduct and directing it in the way pointed out by human reason and
|
||
experience. On the contrary, they will repudiate such a doctrine, until
|
||
the people either become permanently habituated to the yoke of slavery
|
||
or the better elements of the nation push their way into the foreground
|
||
and forcibly take power away from the hands of an infamous and corrupt
|
||
regime. In the first case those who hold power will be pleased with the
|
||
state of affairs, because the conquerors often entrust them with the
|
||
task of supervising the slaves. And these utterly characterless beings
|
||
then exercise that power to the detriment of their own people, more
|
||
cruelly than the most cruel-hearted stranger that might be nominated by
|
||
the enemy himself.
|
||
|
||
The events which happened subsequent to 1918 in Germany prove how the
|
||
hope of securing the clemency of the victor by making a voluntary
|
||
submission had the most disastrous influence on the political views and
|
||
conduct of the broad masses. I say the broad masses explicitly, because
|
||
I cannot persuade myself that the things which were done or left undone
|
||
by the leaders of the people are to be attributed to a similar
|
||
disastrous illusion. Seeing that the direction of our historical destiny
|
||
after the war was now openly controlled by the Jews, it is impossible to
|
||
admit that a defective knowledge of the state of affairs was the sole
|
||
cause of our misfortunes. On the contrary, the conclusion that must be
|
||
drawn from the facts is that our people were intentionally driven to
|
||
ruin. If we examine it from this point of view we shall find that the
|
||
direction of the nation's foreign policy was not so foolish as it
|
||
appeared; for on scrutinizing the matter closely we see clearly that
|
||
this conduct was a procedure which had been calmly calculated, shrewdly
|
||
defined and logically carried out in the service of the Jewish idea and
|
||
the Jewish endeavour to secure the mastery of the world.
|
||
|
||
From 1806 to 1813 Prussia was in a state of collapse. But that period
|
||
sufficed to renew the vital energies of the nation and inspire it once
|
||
more with a resolute determination to fight. An equal period of time has
|
||
passed over our heads from 1918 until to-day, and no advantage has been
|
||
derived from it. On the contrary, the vital strength of our State has
|
||
been steadily sapped.
|
||
|
||
Seven years after November 1918 the Locarno Treaty was signed.
|
||
|
||
Thus the development which took place was what I have indicated above.
|
||
Once the shameful Armistice had been signed our people were unable to
|
||
pluck up sufficient courage and energy to call a halt suddenly to the
|
||
conduct of our adversary as the oppressive measures were being
|
||
constantly renewed. The enemy was too shrewd to put forward all his
|
||
demands at once. He confined his duress always to those exactions which,
|
||
in his opinion and that of our German Government, could be submitted to
|
||
for the moment: so that in this way they did not risk causing an
|
||
explosion of public feeling. But according as the single impositions
|
||
were increasingly subscribed to and tolerated it appeared less
|
||
justifiable to do now in the case of one sole imposition or act of
|
||
duress what had not been previously done in the case of so many others,
|
||
namely, to oppose it. That is the 'drop of poison' of which Clausewitz
|
||
speaks. Once this lack of character is manifested the resultant
|
||
condition becomes steadily aggravated and weighs like an evil
|
||
inheritance on all future decisions. It may become as a leaden weight
|
||
around the nation's neck, which cannot be shaken off but which forces it
|
||
to drag out its existence in slavery.
|
||
|
||
Thus, in Germany, edicts for disarmament and oppression and economic
|
||
plunder followed one after the other, making us politically helpless.
|
||
The result of all this was to create that mood which made so many look
|
||
upon the Dawes Plan as a blessing and the Locarno Treaty as a success.
|
||
From a higher point of view we may speak of one sole blessing in the
|
||
midst of so much misery. This blessing is that, though men may be
|
||
fooled, Heaven can't be bribed. For Heaven withheld its blessing. Since
|
||
that time Misery and Anxiety have been the constant companions of our
|
||
people, and Distress is the one Ally that has remained loyal to us. In
|
||
this case also Destiny has made no exceptions. It has given us our
|
||
deserts. Since we did not know how to value honour any more, it has
|
||
taught us to value the liberty to seek for bread. Now that the nation
|
||
has learned to cry for bread, it may one day learn to pray for freedom.
|
||
|
||
The collapse of our nation in the years following 1918 was bitter and
|
||
manifest. And yet that was the time chosen to persecute us in the most
|
||
malicious way our enemies could devise, so that what happened afterwards
|
||
could have been foretold by anybody then. The government to which our
|
||
people submitted was as hopelessly incompetent as it was conceited, and
|
||
this was especially shown in repudiating those who gave any warning that
|
||
disturbed or displeased. Then we saw--and to-day also--the greatest
|
||
parliamentary nincompoops, really common saddlers and glove-makers--not
|
||
merely by trade, for that would signify very little--suddenly raised to
|
||
the rank of statesmen and sermonizing to humble mortals from that
|
||
pedestal. It did not matter, and it still does not matter, that such a
|
||
'statesman', after having displayed his talents for six months or so as
|
||
a mere windbag, is shown up for what he is and becomes the object of
|
||
public raillery and sarcasm. It does not matter that he has given the
|
||
most evident proof of complete incompetency. No. That does not matter at
|
||
all. On the contrary, the less real service the parliamentary statesmen
|
||
of this Republic render the country, the more savagely they persecute
|
||
all who expect that parliamentary deputies should show some positive
|
||
results of their activities. And they persecute everybody who dares to
|
||
point to the failure of these activities and predict similar failures
|
||
for the future. If one finally succeeds in nailing down one of these
|
||
parliamentarians to hard facts, so that this political artist can no
|
||
longer deny the real failure of his whole action and its results, then
|
||
he will find thousands of grounds for excuse, but will in no way admit
|
||
that he himself is the chief cause of the evil.
|
||
|
||
In the winter of 1922-23, at the latest, it ought to have been generally
|
||
recognized that, even after the conclusion of peace, France was still
|
||
endeavouring with iron consistency to attain those ends which had been
|
||
originally envisaged as the final purpose of the War. For nobody could
|
||
think of believing that for four and a half years France continued to
|
||
pour out the not abundant supply of her national blood in the most
|
||
decisive struggle throughout all her history in order subsequently to
|
||
obtain compensation through reparations for the damages sustained. Even
|
||
Alsace and Lorraine, taken by themselves, would not account for the
|
||
energy with which the French conducted the War, if Alsace-Lorraine were
|
||
not already considered as a part of the really vast programme which
|
||
French foreign policy had envisaged for the future. The aim of that
|
||
programme was: Disintegration of Germany into a collection of small
|
||
states. It was for this that Chauvinist France waged war; and in doing
|
||
so she was in reality selling her people to be the serfs of the
|
||
international Jew.
|
||
|
||
French war aims would have been obtained through the World War if, as
|
||
was originally hoped in Paris, the struggle had been carried out on
|
||
German soil. Let us imagine the bloody battles of the World War not as
|
||
having taken place on the Somme, in Flanders, in Artois, in front of
|
||
Warsaw, Nizhni-Novogorod, Kowno, and Riga but in Germany, in the Ruhr or
|
||
on the Maine, on the Elbe, in front of Hanover, Leipzig, N<>rnberg, etc.
|
||
If such happened, then we must admit that the destruction of Germany
|
||
might have been accomplished. It is very much open to question if our
|
||
young federal State could have borne the hard struggle for four and a
|
||
half years, as it was borne by a France that had been centralized for
|
||
centuries, with the whole national imagination focused on Paris. If this
|
||
titanic conflict between the nations developed outside the frontiers of
|
||
our fatherland, not only is all the merit due to the immortal service
|
||
rendered by our old army but it was also very fortunate for the future
|
||
of Germany. I am fully convinced that if things had taken a different
|
||
course there would no longer be a German REICH to-day but only 'German
|
||
States'. And that is the only reason why the blood which was shed by our
|
||
friends and brothers in the War was at least not shed in vain.
|
||
|
||
The course which events took was otherwise. In November 1918 Germany did
|
||
indeed collapse with lightning suddenness. But when the catastrophe took
|
||
place at home the armies under the Commander-in-Chief were still deep in
|
||
the enemy's country. At that time France's first preoccupation was not
|
||
the dismemberment of Germany but the problem of how to get the German
|
||
armies out of France and Belgium as quickly as possible. And so, in
|
||
order to put an end to the War, the first thing that had to be done by
|
||
the Paris Government was to disarm the German armies and push them back
|
||
into Germany if possible. Until this was done the French could not
|
||
devote their attention to carrying out their own particular and original
|
||
war aims. As far as concerned England, the War was really won when
|
||
Germany was destroyed as a colonial and commercial Power and was reduced
|
||
to the rank of a second-class State. It was not in England's interest to
|
||
wipe out the German State altogether. In fact, on many grounds it was
|
||
desirable for her to have a future rival against France in Europe.
|
||
Therefore French policy was forced to carry on by peaceful means the
|
||
work for which the War had opened the way; and Clemenceau's statement,
|
||
that for him Peace was merely a continuation of the War, thus acquired
|
||
an enhanced significance.
|
||
|
||
Persistently and on every opportunity that arose, the effort to
|
||
dislocate the framework of the REICH was to have been carried on. By
|
||
perpetually sending new notes that demanded disarmament, on the one
|
||
hand, and by the imposition of economic levies which, on the other hand,
|
||
could be carried out as the process of disarmament progressed, it was
|
||
hoped in Paris that the framework of the REICH would gradually fall to
|
||
pieces. The more the Germans lost their sense of national honour the
|
||
more could economic pressure and continued economic distress be
|
||
effective as factors of political destruction. Such a policy of
|
||
political oppression and economic exploitation, carried out for ten or
|
||
twenty years, must in the long run steadily ruin the most compact
|
||
national body and, under certain circumstances, dismember it. Then the
|
||
French war aims would have been definitely attained.
|
||
|
||
By the winter of 1922-23 the intentions of the French must already have
|
||
been known for a long time back. There remained only two possible ways
|
||
of confronting the situation. If the German national body showed itself
|
||
sufficiently tough-skinned, it might gradually blunt the will of the
|
||
French or it might do--once and for all--what was bound to become
|
||
inevitable one day: that is to say, under the provocation of some
|
||
particularly brutal act of oppression it could put the helm of the
|
||
German ship of state to roundabout and ram the enemy. That would
|
||
naturally involve a life-and-death-struggle. And the prospect of coming
|
||
through the struggle alive depended on whether France could be so far
|
||
isolated that in this second battle Germany would not have to fight
|
||
against the whole world but in defence of Germany against a France that
|
||
was persistently disturbing the peace of the world.
|
||
|
||
I insist on this point, and I am profoundly convinced of it, namely,
|
||
that this second alternative will one day be chosen and will have to be
|
||
chosen and carried out in one way or another. I shall never believe that
|
||
France will of herself alter her intentions towards us, because, in the
|
||
last analysis, they are only the expression of the French instinct for
|
||
self-preservation. Were I a Frenchman and were the greatness of France
|
||
so dear to me as that of Germany actually is, in the final reckoning I
|
||
could not and would not act otherwise than a Clemenceau. The French
|
||
nation, which is slowly dying out, not so much through depopulation as
|
||
through the progressive disappearance of the best elements of the race,
|
||
can continue to play an important role in the world only if Germany be
|
||
destroyed. French policy may make a thousand detours on the march
|
||
towards its fixed goal, but the destruction of Germany is the end which
|
||
it always has in view as the fulfilment of the most profound yearning
|
||
and ultimate intentions of the French. Now it is a mistake to believe
|
||
that if the will on one side should remain only PASSIVE and intent on
|
||
its own self-preservation it can hold out permanently against another
|
||
will which is not less forceful but is ACTIVE. As long as the eternal
|
||
conflict between France and Germany is waged only in the form of a
|
||
German defence against the French attack, that conflict can never be
|
||
decided; and from century to century Germany will lose one position
|
||
after another. If we study the changes that have taken place, from the
|
||
twelfth century up to our day, in the frontiers within which the German
|
||
language is spoken, we can hardly hope for a successful issue to result
|
||
from the acceptance and development of a line of conduct which has
|
||
hitherto been so detrimental for us.
|
||
|
||
Only when the Germans have taken all this fully into account will they
|
||
cease from allowing the national will-to-life to wear itself out in
|
||
merely passive defence, but they will rally together for a last decisive
|
||
contest with France. And in this contest the essential objective of the
|
||
German nation will be fought for. Only then will it be possible to put
|
||
an end to the eternal Franco-German conflict which has hitherto proved
|
||
so sterile. Of course it is here presumed that Germany sees in the
|
||
suppression of France nothing more than a means which will make it
|
||
possible for our people finally to expand in another quarter. To-day
|
||
there are eighty million Germans in Europe. And our foreign policy will
|
||
be recognized as rightly conducted only when, after barely a hundred
|
||
years, there will be 250 million Germans living on this Continent, not
|
||
packed together as the coolies in the factories of another Continent but
|
||
as tillers of the soil and workers whose labour will be a mutual
|
||
assurance for their existence.
|
||
|
||
In December 1922 the situation between Germany and France assumed a
|
||
particularly threatening aspect. France had new and vast oppressive
|
||
measures in view and needed sanctions for her conduct. Political
|
||
pressure had to precede the economic plunder, and the French believed
|
||
that only by making a violent attack against the central nervous system
|
||
of German life would they be able to make our 'recalcitrant' people bow
|
||
to their galling yoke. By the occupation of the Ruhr District, it was
|
||
hoped in France that not only would the moral backbone of Germany be
|
||
broken finally but that we should be reduced to such a grave economic
|
||
condition that we should be forced, for weal or woe, to subscribe to the
|
||
heaviest possible obligations.
|
||
|
||
It was a question of bending and breaking Germany. At first Germany bent
|
||
and subsequently broke in pieces completely.
|
||
|
||
Through the occupation of the Ruhr, Fate once more reached out its hand
|
||
to the German people and bade them arise. For what at first appeared as
|
||
a heavy stroke of misfortune was found, on closer examination, to
|
||
contain extremely encouraging possibilities of bringing Germany's
|
||
sufferings to an end.
|
||
|
||
As regards foreign politics, the action of France in occupying the Ruhr
|
||
really estranged England for the first time in quite a profound way.
|
||
Indeed it estranged not merely British diplomatic circles, which had
|
||
concluded the French alliance and had upheld it from motives of calm and
|
||
objective calculation, but it also estranged large sections of the
|
||
English nation. The English business world in particular scarcely
|
||
concealed the displeasure it felt at this incredible forward step in
|
||
strengthening the power of France on the Continent. From the military
|
||
standpoint alone France now assumed a position in Europe such as Germany
|
||
herself had not held previously. Moreover, France thus obtained control
|
||
over economic resources which practically gave her a monopoly that
|
||
consolidated her political and commercial strength against all
|
||
competition. The most important iron and coal mines of Europe were now
|
||
united in the hand of one nation which, in contrast to Germany, had
|
||
hitherto defended her vital interests in an active and resolute fashion
|
||
and whose military efficiency in the Great War was still fresh in the
|
||
memories of the whole world. The French occupation of the Ruhr coal
|
||
field deprived England of all the successes she had gained in the War.
|
||
And the victors were now Marshal Foch and the France he represented, no
|
||
longer the calm and painstaking British statesmen.
|
||
|
||
In Italy also the attitude towards France, which had not been very
|
||
favourable since the end of the War, now became positively hostile. The
|
||
great historic moment had come when the Allies of yesterday might become
|
||
the enemies of to-morrow. If things happened otherwise and if the Allies
|
||
did not suddenly come into conflict with one another, as in the Second
|
||
Balkan War, that was due to the fact that Germany had no Enver Pasha but
|
||
merely a Cuno as Chancellor of the REICH.
|
||
|
||
Nevertheless, the French invasion of the Ruhr opened up great
|
||
possibilities for the future not only in Germany's foreign politics but
|
||
also in her internal politics. A considerable section of our people who,
|
||
thanks to the persistent influence of a mendacious Press, had looked
|
||
upon France as the champion of progress and liberty, were suddenly cured
|
||
of this illusion. In 1914 the dream of international solidarity suddenly
|
||
vanished from the brain of our German working class. They were brought
|
||
back into the world of everlasting struggle, where one creature feeds on
|
||
the other and where the death of the weaker implies the life of the
|
||
stronger. The same thing happened in the spring of 1923.
|
||
|
||
When the French put their threats into effect and penetrated, at first
|
||
hesitatingly and cautiously, into the coal-basin of Lower Germany the
|
||
hour of destiny had struck for Germany. It was a great and decisive
|
||
moment. If at that moment our people had changed not only their frame of
|
||
mind but also their conduct the German Ruhr District could have been
|
||
made for France what Moscow turned out to be for Napoleon. Indeed, there
|
||
were only two possibilities: either to leave this move also to take its
|
||
course and do nothing or to turn to the German people in that region of
|
||
sweltering forges and flaming furnaces. An effort might have been made
|
||
to set their wills afire with determination to put an end to this
|
||
persistent disgrace and to face a momentary terror rather than submit to
|
||
a terror that was endless.
|
||
|
||
Cuno, who was then Chancellor of the REICH, can claim the immortal merit
|
||
of having discovered a third way; and our German bourgeois political
|
||
parties merit the still more glorious honour of having admired him and
|
||
collaborated with him.
|
||
|
||
Here I shall deal with the second way as briefly as possible.
|
||
|
||
By occupying the Ruhr France committed a glaring violation of the
|
||
Versailles Treaty. Her action brought her into conflict with several of
|
||
the guarantor Powers, especially with England and Italy. She could no
|
||
longer hope that those States would back her up in her egotistic act of
|
||
brigandage. She could count only on her own forces to reap anything like
|
||
a positive result from that adventure, for such it was at the start. For
|
||
a German National Government there was only one possible way left open.
|
||
And this was the way which honour prescribed. Certainly at the beginning
|
||
we could not have opposed France with an active armed resistance. But it
|
||
should have been clearly recognized that any negotiations which did not
|
||
have the argument of force to back them up would turn out futile and
|
||
ridiculous. If it were not possible to organize an active resistance,
|
||
then it was absurd to take up the standpoint: "We shall not enter into
|
||
any negotiations." But it was still more absurd finally to enter into
|
||
negotiations without having organized the necessary force as a support.
|
||
|
||
Not that it was possible for us by military means to prevent the
|
||
occupation of the Ruhr. Only a madman could have recommended such a
|
||
decision. But under the impression produced by the action which France
|
||
had taken, and during the time that it was being carried out, measures
|
||
could have been, and should have been, undertaken without any regard to
|
||
the Versailles Treaty, which France herself had violated, to provide
|
||
those military resources which would serve as a collateral argument to
|
||
back up the negotiations later on. For it was quite clear from the
|
||
beginning that the fate of this district occupied by the French would
|
||
one day be decided at some conference table or other. But it also must
|
||
have been quite to everybody that even the best negotiators could have
|
||
little success as long as the ground on which they themselves stood and
|
||
the chair on which they sat were not under the armed protection of their
|
||
own people. A weak pigmy cannot contend against athletes, and a
|
||
negotiator without any armed defence at his back must always bow in
|
||
obeisance when a Brennus throws the sword into the scales on the enemy's
|
||
side, unless an equally strong sword can be thrown into the scales at
|
||
the other end and thus maintain the balance. It was really distressing
|
||
to have to observe the comedy of negotiations which, ever since 1918,
|
||
regularly preceded each arbitrary dictate that the enemy imposed upon
|
||
us. We offered a sorry spectacle to the eyes of the whole world when we
|
||
were invited, for the sake of derision, to attend conference tables
|
||
simply to be presented with decisions and programmes which had already
|
||
been drawn up and passed a long time before, and which we were permitted
|
||
to discuss, but from the beginning had to be considered as unalterable.
|
||
It is true that in scarcely a single instance were our negotiators men
|
||
of more than mediocre abilities. For the most part they justified only
|
||
too well the insolent observation made by Lloyd George when he
|
||
sarcastically remarked, in the presence of a former Chancellor of the
|
||
REICH, Herr Simon, that the Germans were not able to choose men of
|
||
intelligence as their leaders and representatives. But in face of the
|
||
resolute determination and the power which the enemy held in his hands,
|
||
on the one side, and the lamentable impotence of Germany on the other,
|
||
even a body of geniuses could have obtained only very little for
|
||
Germany.
|
||
|
||
In the spring of 1923, however, anyone who might have thought of seizing
|
||
the opportunity of the French invasion of the Ruhr to reconstruct the
|
||
military power of Germany would first have had to restore to the nation
|
||
its moral weapons, to reinforce its will-power, and to extirpate those
|
||
who had destroyed this most valuable element of national strength.
|
||
|
||
Just as in 1918 we had to pay with our blood for the failure to crush
|
||
the Marxist serpent underfoot once and for all in 1914 and 1915, now we
|
||
have to suffer retribution for the fact that in the spring of 1923 we
|
||
did not seize the opportunity then offered us for finally wiping out the
|
||
handiwork done by the Marxists who betrayed their country and were
|
||
responsible for the murder of our people.
|
||
|
||
Any idea of opposing French aggression with an efficacious resistance
|
||
was only pure folly as long as the fight had not been taken up against
|
||
those forces which, five years previously, had broken the German
|
||
resistance on the battlefields by the influences which they exercised at
|
||
home. Only bourgeois minds could have arrived at the incredible belief
|
||
that Marxism had probably become quite a different thing now and that
|
||
the CANAILLE of ringleaders in 1918, who callously used the bodies of
|
||
our two million dead as stepping-stones on which they climbed into the
|
||
various Government positions, would now, in the year 1923, suddenly show
|
||
themselves ready to pay their tribute to the national conscience. It was
|
||
veritably a piece of incredible folly to expect that those traitors
|
||
would suddenly appear as the champions of German freedom. They had no
|
||
intention of doing it. Just as a hyena will not leave its carrion, a
|
||
Marxist will not give up indulging in the betrayal of his country. It is
|
||
out of the question to put forward the stupid retort here, that so many
|
||
of the workers gave their blood for Germany. German workers, yes, but no
|
||
longer international Marxists. If the German working class, in 1914,
|
||
consisted of real Marxists the War would have ended within three weeks.
|
||
Germany would have collapsed before the first soldier had put a foot
|
||
beyond the frontiers. No. The fact that the German people carried on the
|
||
War proved that the Marxist folly had not yet been able to penetrate
|
||
deeply. But as the War was prolonged German soldiers and workers
|
||
gradually fell back into the hands of the Marxist leaders, and the
|
||
number of those who thus relapsed became lost to their country. At the
|
||
beginning of the War, or even during the War, if twelve or fifteen
|
||
thousand of these Jews who were corrupting the nation had been forced to
|
||
submit to poison-gas, just as hundreds of thousands of our best German
|
||
workers from every social stratum and from every trade and calling had
|
||
to face it in the field, then the millions of sacrifices made at the
|
||
front would not have been in vain. On the contrary: If twelve thousand
|
||
of these malefactors had been eliminated in proper time probably the
|
||
lives of a million decent men, who would be of value to Germany in the
|
||
future, might have been saved. But it was in accordance with bourgeois
|
||
'statesmanship' to hand over, without the twitch of an eyelid, millions
|
||
of human beings to be slaughtered on the battlefields, while they looked
|
||
upon ten or twelve thousand public traitors, profiteers, usurers and
|
||
swindlers, as the dearest and most sacred national treasure and
|
||
proclaimed their persons to be inviolable. Indeed it would be hard to
|
||
say what is the most outstanding feature of these bourgeois circles:
|
||
mental debility, moral weakness and cowardice, or a mere down-at-heel
|
||
mentality. It is a class that is certainly doomed to go under but,
|
||
unhappily, it drags down the whole nation with it into the abyss.
|
||
|
||
The situation in 1923 was quite similar to that of 1918. No matter what
|
||
form of resistance was decided upon, the first prerequisite for taking
|
||
action was the elimination of the Marxist poison from the body of the
|
||
nation. And I was convinced that the first task then of a really
|
||
National Government was to seek and find those forces that were
|
||
determined to wage a war of destruction against Marxism and to give
|
||
these forces a free hand. It was their duty not to bow down before the
|
||
fetish of 'order and tranquillity' at a moment when the enemy from
|
||
outside was dealing the Fatherland a death-blow and when high treason
|
||
was lurking behind every street corner at home. No. A really National
|
||
Government ought then to have welcomed disorder and unrest if this
|
||
turmoil would afford an opportunity of finally settling with the
|
||
Marxists, who are the mortal enemies of our people. If this precaution
|
||
were neglected, then it was sheer folly to think of resisting, no matter
|
||
what form that resistance might take.
|
||
|
||
Of course, such a settlement of accounts with the Marxists as would be
|
||
of real historical importance could not be effected along lines laid
|
||
down by some secret council or according to some plan concocted by the
|
||
shrivelled mind of some cabinet minister. It would have to be in
|
||
accordance with the eternal laws of life on this Earth which are and
|
||
will remain those of a ceaseless struggle for existence. It must always
|
||
be remembered that in many instances a hardy and healthy nation has
|
||
emerged from the ordeal of the most bloody civil wars, while from peace
|
||
conditions which had been artificially maintained there often resulted a
|
||
state of national putrescence that reeked to the skies. The fate of a
|
||
nation cannot be changed in kid gloves. And so in the year 1923 brutal
|
||
action should have been taken to stamp out the vipers that battened on
|
||
the body of the nation. If this were done, then the first prerequisite
|
||
for an active opposition would have been fulfilled.
|
||
|
||
At that time I often talked myself hoarse in trying to make it clear, at
|
||
least to the so-called national circles, what was then at stake and that
|
||
by repeating the errors committed in 1914 and the following years we
|
||
must necessarily come to the same kind of catastrophe as in 1918. I
|
||
frequently implored of them to let Fate have a free hand and to make it
|
||
possible for our Movement to settle with the Marxists. But I preached to
|
||
deaf ears. They all thought they knew better, including the Chief of the
|
||
Defence Force, until finally they found themselves forced to subscribe
|
||
to the vilest capitulation that history records.
|
||
|
||
I then became profoundly convinced that the German bourgeoisie had come
|
||
to the end of its mission and was not capable of fulfilling any further
|
||
function. And then also I recognized the fact that all the bourgeois
|
||
parties had been fighting Marxism merely from the spirit of competition
|
||
without sincerely wishing to destroy it. For a long time they had been
|
||
accustomed to assist in the destruction of their country, and their one
|
||
great care was to secure good seats at the funeral banquet. It was for
|
||
this alone that they kept on 'fighting'.
|
||
|
||
At that time--I admit it openly--I conceived a profound admiration for
|
||
the great man beyond the Alps, whose ardent love for his people inspired
|
||
him not to bargain with Italy's internal enemies but to use all possible
|
||
ways and means in an effort to wipe them out. What places Mussolini in
|
||
the ranks of the world's great men is his decision not to share Italy
|
||
with the Marxists but to redeem his country from Marxism by destroying
|
||
internationalism.
|
||
|
||
What miserable pigmies our sham statesmen in Germany appear by
|
||
comparison with him. And how nauseating it is to witness the conceit and
|
||
effrontery of these nonentities in criticizing a man who is a thousand
|
||
times greater than them. And how painful it is to think that this takes
|
||
place in a country which could point to a Bismarck as its leader as
|
||
recently as fifty years ago.
|
||
|
||
The attitude adopted by the bourgeoisie in 1923 and the way in which
|
||
they dealt kindly with Marxism decided from the outset the fate of any
|
||
attempt at active resistance in the Ruhr. With that deadly enemy in our
|
||
own ranks it was sheer folly to think of fighting France. The most that
|
||
could then be done was to stage a sham fight in order to satisfy the
|
||
German national element to some extent, to tranquillize the 'boiling
|
||
state of the public mind', or dope it, which was what was really
|
||
intended. Had they really believed in what they did, they ought to have
|
||
recognized that the strength of a nation lies, first of all, not in its
|
||
arms but in its will, and that before conquering the external enemy the
|
||
enemy at home would have to be eliminated. If not, then disaster must
|
||
result if victory be not achieved on the very first day of the fight.
|
||
The shadow of one defeat is sufficient to break up the resistance of a
|
||
nation that has not been liberated from its internal enemies, and give
|
||
the adversary a decisive victory.
|
||
|
||
In the spring of 1923 all this might have been predicted. It is useless
|
||
to ask whether it was then possible to count on a military success
|
||
against France. For if the result of the German action in regard to the
|
||
French invasion of the Ruhr had been only the destruction of Marxism at
|
||
home, success would have been on our side. Once liberated from the
|
||
deadly enemies of her present and future existence, Germany would
|
||
possess forces which no power in the world could strangle again. On the
|
||
day when Marxism is broken in Germany the chains that bind Germany will
|
||
be smashed for ever. For never in our history have we been conquered by
|
||
the strength of our outside enemies but only through our own failings
|
||
and the enemy in our own camp.
|
||
|
||
Since it was not able to decide on such heroic action at that time, the
|
||
Government could have chosen the first way: namely, to allow things to
|
||
take their course and do nothing at all.
|
||
|
||
But at that great moment Heaven made Germany a present of a great man.
|
||
This was Herr Cuno. He was neither a statesman nor a politician by
|
||
profession, still less a politician by birth. But he belonged to that
|
||
type of politician who is merely used for liGYMNASIUMating some definite
|
||
question. Apart from that, he had business experience. It was a curse
|
||
for Germany that, in the practice of politics, this business man looked
|
||
upon politics also as a business undertaking and regulated his conduct
|
||
accordingly.
|
||
|
||
"France occupies the Ruhr. What is there in the Ruhr? Coal. And so
|
||
France occupies the Ruhr for the sake of its coal?" What could come more
|
||
naturally to the mind of Herr Cuno than the idea of a strike, which
|
||
would prevent the French from obtaining any coal? And therefore, in the
|
||
opinion of Herr Cuno, one day or other they would certainly have to get
|
||
out of the Ruhr again if the occupation did not prove to be a paying
|
||
business. Such were approximately the lines along which that OUTSTANDING
|
||
NATIONAL STATESMAN reasoned. At Stuttgart and other places he spoke to
|
||
'his people' and this people became lost in admiration for him. Of
|
||
course they needed the Marxists for the strike, because the workers
|
||
would have to be the first to go on strike. Now, in the brain of a
|
||
bourgeois statesman such as Cuno, a Marxist and a worker are one and the
|
||
same thing. Therefore it was necessary to bring the worker into line
|
||
with all the other Germans in a united front. One should have seen how
|
||
the countenances of these party politicians beamed with the light of
|
||
their moth-eaten bourgeois culture when the great genius spoke the word
|
||
of revelation to them. Here was a nationalist and also a man of genius.
|
||
At last they had discovered what they had so long sought. For now the
|
||
abyss between Marxism and themselves could be bridged over. And thus it
|
||
became possible for the pseudo-nationalist to ape the German manner and
|
||
adopt nationalist phraseology in reaching out the ingenuous hand of
|
||
friendship to the internationalist traitors of their country. The
|
||
traitor readily grasped that hand, because, just as Herr Cuno had need
|
||
of the Marxist chiefs for his 'united front', the Marxist chiefs needed
|
||
Herr Cuno's money. So that both parties mutually benefited by the
|
||
transaction. Cuno obtained his united front, constituted of nationalist
|
||
charlatans and international swindlers. And now, with the help of the
|
||
money paid to them by the State, these people were able to pursue their
|
||
glorious mission, which was to destroy the national economic system. It
|
||
was an immortal thought, that of saving a nation by means of a general
|
||
strike in which the strikers were paid by the State. It was a command
|
||
that could be enthusiastically obeyed by the most indifferent of
|
||
loafers.
|
||
|
||
Everybody knows that prayers will not make a nation free. But that it is
|
||
possible to liberate a nation by giving up work has yet to be proved by
|
||
historical experience. Instead of promoting a paid general strike at
|
||
that time, and making this the basis of his 'united front', if Herr Cuno
|
||
had demanded two hours more work from every German, then the swindle of
|
||
the 'united front' would have been disposed of within three days.
|
||
Nations do not obtain their freedom by refusing to work but by making
|
||
sacrifices.
|
||
|
||
Anyhow, the so-called passive resistance could not last long. Nobody but
|
||
a man entirely ignorant of war could imagine that an army of occupation
|
||
might be frightened and driven out by such ridiculous means. And yet
|
||
this could have been the only purpose of an action for which the country
|
||
had to pay out milliards and which contributed seriously to devaluate
|
||
the national currency.
|
||
|
||
Of course the French were able to make themselves almost at home in the
|
||
Ruhr basin the moment they saw that such ridiculous measures were being
|
||
adopted against them. They had received the prescription directly from
|
||
ourselves of the best way to bring a recalcitrant civil population to a
|
||
sense of reason if its conduct implied a serious danger for the
|
||
officials which the army of occupation had placed in authority. Nine
|
||
years previously we wiped out with lightning rapidity bands of Belgian
|
||
FRANCS-TIREURS and made the civil population clearly understand the
|
||
seriousness of the situation, when the activities of these bands
|
||
threatened grave danger for the German army. In like manner if the
|
||
passive resistance of the Ruhr became really dangerous for the French,
|
||
the armies of occupation would have needed no more than eight days to
|
||
bring the whole piece of childish nonsense to a gruesome end. For we
|
||
must always go back to the original question in all this business: What
|
||
were we to do if the passive resistance came to the point where it
|
||
really got on the nerves of our opponents and they proceeded to suppress
|
||
it with force and bloodshed? Would we still continue to resist? If so,
|
||
then, for weal or woe, we would have to submit to a severe and bloody
|
||
persecution. And in that case we should be faced with the same situation
|
||
as would have faced us in the case of an active resistance. In other
|
||
words, we should have to fight. Therefore the so-called passive
|
||
resistance would be logical only if supported by the determination to
|
||
come out and wage an open fight in case of necessity or adopt a kind of
|
||
guerilla warfare. Generally speaking, one undertakes such a struggle
|
||
when there is a possibility of success. The moment a besieged fortress
|
||
is taken by assault there is no practical alternative left to the
|
||
defenders except to surrender, if instead of probable death they are
|
||
assured that their lives will be spared. Let the garrison of a citadel
|
||
which has been completely encircled by the enemy once lose all hope of
|
||
being delivered by their friends, then the strength of the defence
|
||
collapses totally.
|
||
|
||
That is why passive resistance in the Ruhr, when one considers the final
|
||
consequences which it might and must necessarily have if it were to turn
|
||
out really successful, had no practical meaning unless an active front
|
||
had been organized to support it. Then one might have demanded immense
|
||
efforts from our people. If each of these Westphalians in the Ruhr could
|
||
have been assured that the home country had mobilized an army of eighty
|
||
or a hundred divisions to support them, the French would have found
|
||
themselves treading on thorns. Surely a greater number of courageous men
|
||
could be found to sacrifice themselves for a successful enterprise than
|
||
for an enterprise that was manifestly futile.
|
||
|
||
This was the classic occasion that induced us National Socialists to
|
||
take up a resolute stand against the so-called national word of command.
|
||
And that is what we did. During those months I was attacked by people
|
||
whose patriotism was a mixture of stupidity and humbug and who took part
|
||
in the general hue and cry because of the pleasant sensation they felt
|
||
at being suddenly enabled to show themselves as nationalists, without
|
||
running any danger thereby. In my estimation, this despicable 'united
|
||
front' was one of the most ridiculous things that could be imagined. And
|
||
events proved that I was right.
|
||
|
||
As soon as the Trades Unions had nearly filled their treasuries with
|
||
Cuno's contributions, and the moment had come when it would be necessary
|
||
to transform the passive resistance from a mere inert defence into
|
||
active aggression, the Red hyenas suddenly broke out of the national
|
||
sheepfold and returned to be what they always had been. Without sounding
|
||
any drums or trumpets, Herr Cuno returned to his ships. Germany was
|
||
richer by one experience and poorer by the loss of one great hope.
|
||
|
||
Up to midsummer of that year several officers, who certainly were not
|
||
the least brave and honourable of their kind, had not really believed
|
||
that the course of things could take a turn that was so humiliating.
|
||
They had all hoped that--if not openly, then at least secretly--the
|
||
necessary measures would be taken to make this insolent French invasion
|
||
a turning-point in German history. In our ranks also there were many who
|
||
counted at least on the intervention of the REICHSWEHR. That conviction
|
||
was so ardent that it decisively influenced the conduct and especially
|
||
the training of innumerable young men.
|
||
|
||
But when the disgraceful collapse set in and the most humiliating kind
|
||
of capitulation was made, indignation against such a betrayal of our
|
||
unhappy country broke out into a blaze. Millions of German money had
|
||
been spent in vain and thousands of young Germans had been sacrificed,
|
||
who were foolish enough to trust in the promises made by the rulers of
|
||
the REICH. Millions of people now became clearly convinced that Germany
|
||
could be saved only if the whole prevailing system were destroyed root
|
||
and branch.
|
||
|
||
There never had been a more propitious moment for such a solution. On
|
||
the one side an act of high treason had been committed against the
|
||
country, openly and shamelessly. On the other side a nation found itself
|
||
delivered over to die slowly of hunger. Since the State itself had
|
||
trodden down all the precepts of faith and loyalty, made a mockery of
|
||
the rights of its citizens, rendered the sacrifices of millions of its
|
||
most loyal sons fruitless and robbed other millions of their last penny,
|
||
such a State could no longer expect anything but hatred from its
|
||
subjects. This hatred against those who had ruined the people and the
|
||
country was bound to find an outlet in one form or another. In this
|
||
connection I shall quote here the concluding sentence of a speech which
|
||
I delivered at the great court trial that took place in the spring of
|
||
1924.
|
||
|
||
"The judges of this State may tranquilly condemn us for our conduct at
|
||
that time, but History, the goddess of a higher truth and a better legal
|
||
code, will smile as she tears up this verdict and will acquit us all of
|
||
the crime for which this verdict demands punishment."
|
||
|
||
But History will then also summon before its own tribunal those who,
|
||
invested with power to-day, have trampled on law and justice, condemning
|
||
our people to misery and ruin, and who, in the hour of their country's
|
||
misfortune, took more account of their own ego than of the life of the
|
||
community.
|
||
|
||
Here I shall not relate the course of events which led to November 8th,
|
||
1923, and closed with that date. I shall not do so because I cannot see
|
||
that this would serve any beneficial purpose in the future and also
|
||
because no good could come of opening old sores that have been just only
|
||
closed. Moreover, it would be out of place to talk about the guilt of
|
||
men who perhaps in the depths of their hearts have as much love for
|
||
their people as I myself, and who merely did not follow the same road as
|
||
I took or failed to recognize it as the right one to take.
|
||
|
||
In the face of the great misfortune which has befallen our fatherland
|
||
and affects all us, I must abstain from offending and perhaps disuniting
|
||
those men who must at some future date form one great united front which
|
||
will be made up of true and loyal Germans and which will have to
|
||
withstand the common front presented by the enemy of our people. For I
|
||
know that a time will come when those who then treated us as enemies
|
||
will venerate the men who trod the bitter way of death for the sake of
|
||
their people.
|
||
|
||
I have dedicated the first volume of this book to our eighteen fallen
|
||
heroes. Here at the end of this second volume let me again bring those
|
||
men to the memory of the adherents and champions of our ideals, as
|
||
heroes who, in the full consciousness of what they were doing,
|
||
sacrificed their lives for us all. We must never fail to recall those
|
||
names in order to encourage the weak and wavering among us when duty
|
||
calls, that duty which they fulfilled with absolute faith, even to its
|
||
extreme consequences. Together with those, and as one of the best of
|
||
all, I should like to mention the name of a man who devoted his life to
|
||
reawakening his and our people, through his writing and his ideas and
|
||
finally through positive action. I mean: Dietrich Eckart.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
EPILOGUE
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
On November 9th, 1923, four and a half years after its foundation, the
|
||
German National Socialist Labour Party was dissolved and forbidden
|
||
throughout the whole of the REICH. To-day, in November 1926, it is again
|
||
established throughout the REICH, enjoying full liberty, stronger and
|
||
internally more compact than ever before.
|
||
|
||
All persecutions of the Movement and the individuals at its head, all
|
||
the imputations and calumnies, have not been able to prevail against it.
|
||
Thanks to the justice of its ideas, the integrity of its intentions and
|
||
the spirit of self-denial that animates its members, it has overcome all
|
||
oppression and increased its strength through the ordeal. If, in our
|
||
contemporary world of parliamentary corruption, our Movement remains
|
||
always conscious of the profound nature of its struggle and feels that
|
||
it personifies the values of individual personality and race, and orders
|
||
its action accordingly--then it may count with mathematical certainty on
|
||
achieving victory some day in the future. And Germany must necessarily
|
||
win the position which belongs to it on this Earth if it is led and
|
||
organized according to these principles.
|
||
|
||
A State which, in an epoch of racial adulteration, devotes itself to the
|
||
duty of preserving the best elements of its racial stock must one day
|
||
become ruler of the Earth.
|
||
|
||
The adherents of our Movements must always remember this, whenever they
|
||
may have misgivings lest the greatness of the sacrifices demanded of
|
||
them may not be justified by the possibilities of success.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
THE END
|