Plotting Hitler's Death

by Joachim C. Fest

  The Communist Party, too, disappeared with barely a whimper, in an atmosphere of quiet terror, flight, and quick reversals of old alle­giance. Right up to the brink of Hitler’s “new age,” it had stood its ground as a powerful foe not only of the Nazis but of the entire established order. For years the Nazis had fed on fears that the Com­munist movement sowed among the middle classes and had wel­comed them as they fled its predictions of catastrophe. The image Hitler liked to project of himself as a savior was based largely on the great showdown that he sought with the Communists, and he saw the struggle to which he now dedicated all the powers of the state as only the prelude to a worldwide battle for supremacy.

  But the Communist opponent, like other opponents, failed to materialize. Rosa Luxemburg’s famous question of 1918, “Where is the German proletariat?” once again went unanswered. Seemingly unimpressed by either the persecution and flight of its leading members or the mass desertions among the rank and file, which began immediately upon Hitler’s appointment as chancellor, the Communist Party persisted in its dogmatic belief that its most dangerous enemy was the Social Democrats. Fascism and parliamentary democracy were viewed as the same at bottom, and Hitler only a puppet of powerful interests. A resolution passed by the executive committee of the Comintern on April 1, 1933, insisted in rigid, ideological fashion that Hitler would sooner or later open the gates to the dictatorship of the Communist Party. “We’re next,” was the steadfast Communist refrain of those weeks, as well as “Hitler regiert-aber der Kommunismus marshiert!” (“Hitler rules but Communism is on the march!”) The party still had not come to its senses by the summer of 1933, when it announced that it’s main task was to “train our fire more heavily than ever” on the Social Democrats.20

  The Communists paid dearly for their blindness. The party evaporated without any sign of defiance, act of resistance, or even parting message to its militants. Its officials were arrested and its subsidiary organizations crushed. Those members who escaped became fugi­tives. Some look to plotting in nameless conspiracies that were usually quite local in nature. It is true that many Communists sacrificed their lives resisting the Nazis long before military, church, or conservative circles got into the act. But the Communist Party itself was responsi­ble for the isolation in which its members found themselves and from which they never escaped; it was responsible as well as for the impotence of their “silent revolt,” which has faded, therefore, from memory.21 Over the years, Communist resistance cells occasionally approached other resistance groups, Social Democrats in particular, with offers to join forces, but the distrust sown between 1930 and 1934 never dissipated and these feelers were generally ignored. When one such offer was actually listened to and considered, it resulted in one of the most devastating setbacks in the history of the German resistance, as we shall see.

  The crushing of left-wing parties and the trade unions left the working class without an organizational framework. Individuals who resolved to continue the struggle found themselves alone or in league with just a few close friends. Many working-class leaders were imprisoned. Others withdrew into their private lives and a few went underground. But most left Germany to live in exile, continuing to send messages home, encouraging and advising those who remained be­hind. It soon became clear, however, that very few of the former rank and file were still listening. The sharp decline in unemployment, the improving economy, and the social programs of the new regime had produced a sense of general well-being, even pride, among the work­ing class. Memories of their socialist days, especially given the disap­pointments toward the end, faded fast. The enormous self-confidence of the Nazis in their handling of labor is suggested by the release from concentration camps in 1937 and 1938 of three once popular labor leaders-Julius Leber, Carlo Mierendorff, and the last acting chairman of the General German Trade Union Federation, Wilhelm Leuschner.

  Not only did the Social Democrats, Communists, and German Nationals accept their fate quietly, so did all other political parties, leagues, professional organizations, and civic associations, though they often had long, proud histories. The Protestant Church alone success­fully resisted Nazi co-optation, albeit at the price of constant disputes and schisms. It succeeded because the regime made the mistake of openly attacking it too soon, having assumed that it would fall easily into line because so many of its pastors leaned toward the German Nationals. The church rallied its forces and asserted its indepen­dence at a synod held in Barmen in May 1934. Barely two years later, however, Protestant unity broke down; the majority formed a purely religious wing and, motivated by the Lutheran tradition of deference to authority, sought an arrangement with the state, while the remainder continued the struggle, emphasizing their rejection of the totalitarian and neo-pagan proclivities of the regime. The central figure in this minority wing was Pastor Martin Niemöller, who had been a submarine captain in the First World War. Niemöller was arrested on July 1, 1937, and sentenced, after a show trial, to seven months’ imprisonment. At Hitler’s express orders, he was then rear-rested and incarcerated as a “personal prisoner of the Führer” in the Sachsenhausen concentration camp, where he remained until April 1945.

  Relations between the Nazi regime and the Catholic Church developed in virtually reverse order. At first the church was quite hostile and its bishops energetically denounced the “false doctrines” of the Nazis. Its opposition weakened considerably, however, when, at Papen’s initiative, the Nazis undertook negotiations with the Vatican and successfully concluded a concordat on July 20, 1933. In the fol­lowing years, the chairman of the Conference of Bishops, Cardinal Bertram of Breslau, developed an ineffectual protest system that sat­isfied the demands of the other bishops without annoying the re­gime.22 Only gradually did the Catholic Church find its way back to a firmer brand of resistance in the efforts of individual clerics such as (Cardinal Preysing of Berlin, Bishop Galen of Münster, and Bishop Gröber of Freiburg, although even their work was attenuated by internal disputes and tactical disagreements. The regime retaliated with occasional arrests, the withdrawal of teaching privileges, and the seizure of church publishing houses and printing facilities.

  Resistance within both churches therefore remained largely a matter of individual conscience. In general they attempted merely to assert their own rights and only rarely issued pastoral letters or declarations indicating any fundamental objection to Nazi ideology. More than any other institutions, however, the churches provided a forum in which individuals could distance themselves from the regime. Be­cause the Nazi policy of Gleichschaltung, or conformity to the party line and codes of behavior, encountered such forceful opposition from the churches, Hitler decided to postpone a showdown until after the war.

  The various militant wings of the old parties, the independent youth organizations, and universities fared no better than the official political groups: they, too, were dissolved or co-opted without much sign of resistance. Any remaining assertions of autonomy were soon muted by countless qualms, attempts to appease the new ruling party, and timidity masquerading as respect for the law. The heavy-handed metaphors that the Nazis so loved-the images Goebbels concocted of storms sweeping Germany, of emptying hourglasses, of faces rising to meet the dawn-may not have been aesthetic triumphs but they hit their mark precisely. In just a few feverish weeks a highly hetero­geneous society with innumerable centers of power and influence, independent institutions, and autonomous bodies was reduced to “mere, uniform, obedient ashes.”23 The Gleichschaltung process was completed on July 14, 1933, with a burst of new laws, the most important of which declared the National Socialist German Workers’ Party-the Nazis-to be the only legal political party.

  * * *

  There was that day no sense of break or rupture; it simply marked the legal end of the Weimar Republic. Feelings of regret were few. Peo­ple felt, often for very different reasons, that the republic had meant nothing or very little to them. There was even a sense of relief that it was finally all over. The republic, basic
civil rights, the multiparty system, and democratic restraints on the exercise of political power were all firmly relegated to the past. Barely five months after Hitler’s appointment as chancellor, those days seemed very remote indeed. Robert Musil wrote at the time that he felt that “the things that were abolished did not really matter very much to people anymore.”24 The future did not lie there, whatever direction it might take. Perhaps the future did indeed lie with Hitler’s new order, which as it expanded and gained converts suddenly seemed to have some rational argu­ments on its side as well.

  One must remember that the people who looked with such equanimity on the demise of the Weimar Republic had no conception of what they were getting into or of the horrendous despotism, criminal­ity, and deprivation of rights that awaited them under a totalitarian regime. Most thought that they would soon find themselves, after a draconian transitional period, living under an authoritarian govern­ment running a strict, well-organized state. The total failure to grasp what was at stake can be seen in the comments of one leading Social Democrat after Hitler first came to power. Even after having listened daily to terrifying reports about the fates of old political comrades who had been beaten or seized by SA raiding parties, arrested, and dragged off to concentration camps, the worst that he could imagine scarcely surpassed the persecution of socialists under Bismarck. “We took care of Wilhelm and Bismarck and we’ll take care of today’s reactionaries as well!” he confidently informed his audiences in cam­paign speeches.25 Some believed that Hitler’s star would eventually burn out. At the SPD’s last mass rally in Berlin, Otto Wels assured his listeners that “harsh rulers don’t last long.”26 Others expected Hitler would soon meet his comeuppance in foreign affairs, when the great powers of Europe turned on him.

  Although the Weimar Republic was dead, its ambiguous legacies lived on. With the benefit of time and despite the stunning setbacks of 1933, people here and there began to find the courage and determination to resist. Only now did it become apparent, however, how burned out and useless the rubble of Weimar was. Scattered resistance cells sprouted across the land, but they found themselves un­willing or unable to build on alliances from an earlier period. Communist offers to work with the Social Democrats met, for exam­ple, with deep suspicion-yet another legacy of the past. The resistance to Hitler therefore had to be built anew, on fundamentally different foundations. The deep enmity between the various political camps toward the end of the republic left the budding resistance fractured into small circles and cells, which often had no contact with one another despite physical proximity. They all agreed that it was essential to resist but most were reluctant to join forces. The old tensions continued to affect relations among them as late as 1944 and even flared up after the war both in scholarly and in more politically driven disputes over the history of the resistance.

  The memory of Weimar also shaped the conspirators’ conceptions of the political order they hoped to institute. None of the surviving plans hold up liberal democracy as a desirable model. Some historians have severely criticized this failing, but in so doing they have tended to forget the experiences of the conspirators, who hoped to present the German people with “credible” alternatives to the Nazi regime and felt unable, wherever they stood on the political spectrum, to include the Weimar system among them.27 They argued that among other things Weimar had fostered the rise of Hitler. Carl Goerdeler, a leader of the civilian resistance, spoke of the “curse of parliamentar­ism,” which almost always placed “party interests above the good of the nation.”28 In endless debates, whose intensity and poignancy are mirrored in the surviving documents, the members of the resistance devoted enormous efforts to developing evermore cumbersome and peculiar political models that wavered between restoration of the past and social utopianism; only occasionally is there evidence of a truly forward-looking idea.

  The ease with which Hitler triumphed in Germany, the string of international political victories that the European powers soon per­mitted him, and the omnipresence of his secret police combined to convince anti-Nazis that there could be no question of a mass upris­ing or general strike like the one staged thirteen years earlier to thwart the Kapp putsch. There was also little hope for a coup from above by powerful elites in society and the government bureaucracy, so quickly and thoroughly had Hitler penetrated all social organiza­tions.

  One institution, however, had managed to preserve most of its traditional autonomy and internal cohesion: the army. As Hitler him­self said at the time, half indignant and half impressed, it was “the last instrument of state whose worldview has survived intact.”29 The army alone also possessed the means to overthrow a regime so obsessed with security. Its great dilemma was that any coup it staged would put an enormous strain on long-standing loyalties and would necessarily threaten the continued existence of the state, to which it was deeply committed by tradition and professional ethic.

  Nevertheless, whenever individuals or small groups came together to discuss conspiracy against the state, regardless of their background or concerns, their gaze turned almost inevitably to the military. Equally inevitably, for the reasons outlined above, all thought of resis­tance became part of a vicious circle, which determined the events of the next few years.

  2. THE ARMY SUCCUMBS

  In the early evening of February 3, 1933, only four days after bcoming chancellor, Hitler hurried to 14 Bendlerstrasse to pay a first formal call on the leaders of the Reichswehr. The military commanders were reputed to be remote, secretive, and arrogant, and Hitler had gone to the meeting with some trepidation, because he knew they would play a key role in both his immediate schemes to seize power in Germany and his more long-range plans for expansion abroad.

  Hitler understood well that many of the younger officers sympathized with him and his movement, albeit in a rather vague way. They felt that the Weimar Republic had suffered in both its internal and foreign dealings from a lack of courage and resolve, and they looked now to Hitler to cast off the Treaty of Versailles, restore the prestige of the army, improve their chances for personal advancement and promotion, and bring about real social change. Hopes for a renewal so sweeping that it could be deemed a revolution were common, especially among the younger officers who later joined the resistance. Henning von Tresckow, for instance, campaigned for the Nazis in the officers’ mess in Potsdam as early as the late 1920s, dismissing detractors as hopelessly reactionary. Soon after the Nazis seized power Al­brecht Mertz von Quirnheim had himself transferred to the SA. Helmuth Stieff and many others also threw in their lot with the new cause. There is apparently no truth, however, to the tale that an enthusiastic Stauffenberg placed himself at the head of a crowd surging through Bamberg in celebration of Hitler’s nomination as chancellor.1

  Senior officers took quite a different view, though the Weimar Republic had always seemed alien to them as well. They had high hope’s that an authoritarian regime would not only wash away the “shame of Versailles” but also help reconcile the state and the army, thereby returning to them the influence they had once wielded in the corridors of government. Hitler’s talk of party and army as the “twin pillars” on which the National Socialist state rested seemed to imply that they would regain the political leverage they had lost under the republic. Senior officers also imagined themselves powerful enough to determine the bounds of their own authority, within which Hitler would be prevented from interfering. But even so, they had serious reservations about the Nazis’ rowdy, anarchistic behavior, their undis­guised contempt for the law, the terrorism of the SA, and last but not least, the personage of the Führer himself, whose vulgar, hucksterish ways prompted one senior officer to say what they all more or less felt: Hitler was “not a gentleman but just an ordinary guy.”2

  In his official quarters on Bendlerstrasse, General Kurt von Hammerstein-Equord, the army commander in chief, greeted Hitler with obvious skepticism. An officer who was present reported that Hammerstein introduced the chancellor “in a benevolently co
nde­scending fashion; the assembled phalanx of generals were coolly po­lite, and Hitler made modest, obsequious little bows in all directions. He remained ill at ease until after dinner, when he was allowed an opportunity to speak for a longer period at the table.”3 Drawing on all his skills of persuasion, Hitler did his best to win the officers over. He promised that conditions within Germany would be “completely re­versed,” military preparedness would be improved, and-according to the notes of another of the participants-there would be “no toler­ance of any views that run counter to the objectives [pacifism!]. Those who do not convert will have to be bent. Marxism will be eradicated, root and branch.” On the subject of foreign policy, Hitler referred primarily to abandoning the terms of the Treaty of Versailles and mentioned only in passing “the conquest of new Lebensraum in the East,” The latter comment did not arouse any particular surprise or doubts among the generals, who were skeptical about politicians to begin with and did not pay especially close attention to their exact words. More important to the assembled officers was Hitler’s assurance that, in contrast to developments in Italy, there would be “no amalgamation of the Reichswehr and the party-affiliated SA” and that the army would remain “apolitical and nonpartisan.”4 Many of the officers came away with the impression that Hitler would prove a more congenial chancellor than any of his predecessors over the previous few years, although opinion was divided. Applause was only polite, and Hitler himself remarked afterwards that he felt as if he was “talking to a wall the whole time.”5