Instead, Hitler argued, the restoration of German racial coherence required a multi-pronged strategy. Central to it was discipline. This was a reflection not of German strength, but of German weakness. The British, he believed, did not need discipline in the same way; it came to them naturally. ‘When the going gets tough,’ he argued, ‘the British stand there as one race.’ ‘The minute it gets tough in Germany’, by contrast, ‘the deep-seated instincts’ and ‘blood composition’ of the German people came to the surface. In Mein Kampf he wrote that ‘no new race was being distilled in Germany but rather the various racial elements continued to exist beside each other, with the result that the German people [tended] to disperse in all directions’ when challenged. This meant that the Germans needed to be drilled into racial coherence. ‘Much of what appears so natural to the foreigner,’ he continued, ‘still needs to be laboriously taught to our people.’ ‘For us,’ Hitler went on, ‘discipline’ compensates for the lack of ‘blood-based instinct’. ‘That is the only way of getting men into line.’ One of the ways this could be done, he wrote in Mein Kampf, was through conscription, and he praised the way in which Prussian universal military service had made good some of the centuries of German ‘fragmentation of the blood’.118 The restoration of conscription, Hitler argued, was therefore essential not merely for the defence of the Reich but for the racial coherence of the Volk.
This is the deeper background to Hitler’s reorganization and reorientation of the SA after his release. In part, this was a question of ensuring that activists did not endanger the new ‘legal’ strategy. The main reason, however, was that Hitler saw the SA not as the vehicle for Germany’s military revival but as the motor of her moral and racial regeneration. He issued a new ‘statute’ for the SA in mid September 1926, which laid down that ‘any sort of excesses should be avoided’, ‘should lend our public appearance an impressive and dignified character’. Its technical task was to provide ‘stewarding and protection’ for ‘mass meetings’. Hitler ‘strictly forbade’ any sort of ‘military posturing’. ‘The SA,’ he explained, ‘is not a military formation. The military training of the nation is the task of the army and not that of the NSDAP.’ In early November 1926, Hitler established a central SA headquarters in Munich under Franz Pfeffer von Salomon. The task of the SA was not to engage in ‘conspiracy’ but ‘to capture the street’ from ‘Marxism’. More broadly, Hitler wanted the SA to provide at least some of the missing discipline and coherence in German society. For this reason, Hitler argued, the SA must show ‘strict discipline’ to allow Germany to recover over the long term.119
This was important because, as we have seen, Hitler’s time horizon, which had shortened considerably in 1923, lengthened once more after the failure of the Putsch. He was now expecting the revival of Germany to take generations. ‘The battle for the National Socialist idea,’ he warned one audience, ‘could perhaps last decades, perhaps centuries.’120 The wooing of the German workers, he wrote in Mein Kampf, ‘was a process of transformation and convergence which would not be completed in ten or twenty years but by experience will take many generations’.121 ‘Jewish bastardization and Jewish contamination of the blood,’ Hitler feared, ‘can only be removed from our national body politic in the course of centuries if at all.’122 In February 1927, he wrote that ‘the welding together of a medley of people from such heterogeneous backgrounds required a process that would take decades’.123 He would need a long timeline for the implementation of both positive and negative eugenics.
Hitler sought no less than to reverse the political effects of the Reformation, and the Thirty Years War, which he regarded as the root of Germany’s fragmentation. Hitler criticized ‘Ultramontanism’–that is the tendency of Catholics to place allegiance to the Pope over that to the state–and the allegedly anti-nationalist tendencies in the nineteenth-century church. He accused the church of not ‘feeling with the German people’ and consequently praised the late nineteenth- and early twentieth-century ‘Away from Rome movement’ as overcoming the ‘unfortunate split in the church’ in the interests of the ‘internal power of the Reich’. He saw it perpetuated in the form of the Catholic Centre Party, one of the key groups in Weimar Germany, and the sister party of the hated Bavarian BVP. Hitler bemoaned the fact that ‘religious feelings still run deeper today than all national or political considerations’.124 He spoke of the ‘brazenness with which one attempted to identify the Catholic belief with a political party’. In this sense, Hitler was more comfortable with Protestantism, ‘which better represented German concerns’. This was the main stated reason for his antagonism to organized Christianity, and especially to the most organized church, Roman Catholicism, though his private enmity went much deeper than that. His hostility was political rather than metaphysical.
That said, unlike many other right-wing ideologues, Hitler believed that a compromise was possible, especially with Roman Catholicism, by taking the church out of politics. To the disgust of many Völkisch activists, and party members such as Ernst Count Reventlow, he therefore preached that one should continue to attack Catholic political parties and internationalist sympathies, but avoid slighting purely religious sensibilities. The Centre Party was to be opposed not for confessional reasons, but ‘solely for national-political reasons’. ‘If you consider yourself appointed by destiny to preach the truth,’ he wrote, ‘then do that, but then also have the courage not to do this under the guise [Hitler’s exact word was Umweg] of a political party.’ In return, Hitler promised to keep the NSDAP out of religion. ‘Political parties,’ he insisted, ‘have no business getting involved with religious issues’ so long as these did not undermine the morality of the race. Hitler refused to take sides between religions.125
Hitler saw a central role for the arts and the humanities in the racial recovery of Germany. Cultural activity, he believed, helped to distil and refine the best elements in the German people. In some ways, this was an exercise in cultural nationalism, as Hitler insisted on the value of nineteenth-century German painting and music over contemporary aberrations. In other ways, it was a more universalist project, which appealed not to the Gothic or Germanic past, but to the European classical tradition.126 One should study antiquity for the ‘preservation of the nation,’ he argued, because it ‘remains the first teacher not only for today but for all time’. ‘In future,’ he continued, ‘the Hellenic cultural ideal should remain preserved for us in all its beauty.’ He also saw an important role for history. It should be taught not as ‘learning off by heart or rattling off of historical dates’, but as a teleological quest for ‘the forces’ which were ‘the cause of the effects which we then perceive as historical events’. Its ‘main value lies in the recognition of the great lines of development’, because one learns history as a teacher for the future and in order to secure the survival of one’s people.127
The exercise of Führer powers might be charismatic and autocratic, but its basis was popular. Hitler insisted that ‘extraordinary geniuses do not need to make allowance for ordinary humanity’, because although they might have ‘advisers’ by their side, ‘the decision was made by one man alone’. This was necessary if only to secure the succession. He spoke of the need for a ‘true Germanic democracy in the free choice of the leader, who would have to take over full responsibility for all actions and omissions. In this system, Hitler continued, ‘there would be no vote on individual questions’. Moreover, perhaps inspired by the Westminster example, he accepted that ‘parliaments are necessary’ because they provided a mechanism through which those ‘heads’ who would ‘later be given special tasks’ could ‘slowly be raised up’.128 Parliament thus had a selective rather than a representative function. This was a sort of democracy, though not as we know it. Hitler laid down the principle of one man, one woman, one vote, once, at least for the lifetime of the Führer. Thereafter, parliament could counsel, but it could not control. He called this ‘Germanic Democracy’.
The publication of the se
cond volume of Mein Kampf in December 1926 marked the completion of an important phase in Hitler’s ideological development. That said, there were some themes which were later to acquire considerable importance which did not feature in Mein Kampf at all, or were not explicit there, or were at least not dealt with in great detail. There was plenty of anti-Semitism, but no express call for the murder of all European Jews.129 There was a demand for the seizure of ‘living space’ in the east by military means, to be sure, but this was conceived of as an instrument to balance over-mighty Anglo-America rather than necessarily as a blueprint for another world war (provided the western powers allowed him to expand eastwards). The importance of the United States was evident, in his speeches rather more than in Mein Kampf, but a sustained engagement with the ‘American Union’ was yet to come. There was also no statement on the related ‘European Question’, which was already a matter of keen debate not merely in Germany as a whole but within the party itself. Hitler, in other words, was not yet arrived at his final doctrinal destination. He had another book in him, which–as we shall see–he wrote but never published.
6
Regaining Control of the Party
Hitler elaborated his ideological positions over and over again, in public and in private, in order to re-establish ideological coherence in the party and thereby his own authority. There was, at first, considerable resistance. Hitler’s willingness to compromise with Catholicism scandalized many. There was also resistance on the ‘left’. To be sure, Hitler was pushing an open door with anti-capitalism. ‘We will turn National Socialism into a party of class struggle,’ Goebbels wrote in his diary in May 1925, ‘that is good. Capitalism must be called by its name.’ There was a nagging sense of unease, though, as to where Hitler really stood, particularly when he opposed plans to seize the property of the German princes deposed in 1918, a cause dear to many on the left. ‘Will he become a nationalist or socialist?’ Goebbels wondered in mid June 1925. ‘Just as I wanted,’ a reassured Goebbels wrote in July 1925, ‘sharply against bourgeoisie and capitalism. I would be prepared to sacrifice everything for that man.’ Goebbels was also electrified by the publication of the first volume of Mein Kampf in October. ‘I am finishing Hitler’s book,’ he wrote. ‘Who is this man? Half plebeian, half God! Is he really Christ or only John [the Baptist].’1
Not long after, however, Goebbels was assailed by doubts again. Like many ‘northerners’, he feared the ‘pigsty’ in Munich. ‘I am not going to put up with this Byzantinism any longer,’ he despaired, ‘we must get to Hitler.’ Observing the antics of Julius Streicher, Goebbels exclaimed, ‘Poor Hitler! Poor National Socialism!’ Two days later, after he had been offered the role of editor of the Völkischer Beobachter, Goebbels was writing ‘we have sorted things out with Hitler [who] will also draw me in closer’.2 This was to be a common pattern among Hitler’s followers in the mid to late 1920s, and indeed thereafter. They were frequently assailed by doubts, only to have their faith restored by Hitler’s intense entreaties.3 Their conversion was not so much a single road to Damascus experience, as a stop-start process. In some cases, it made the final submission all the more lasting, while in others doubts kept returning until the very end.
The most contentious area remained foreign policy, where the publication of Mein Kampf did not immediately settle matters. Many could not stomach the abandonment of South Tyrol, which Hitler made an absolute test of loyalty, because of the value he placed on Mussolini’s favour. In August 1926, for example, Hans Frank, a loyal member, who later became the governor of Nazi-occupied Poland, temporarily left the party over the issue. The really critical issue, however, was Russia. The left and the ‘northerners’ were wedded to an alliance with a free Russia, and if necessary even with Bolshevik Russia, against Anglo-American Jewish international capitalism. Hitler, of course, wanted to colonize the east, and was determined to stamp out any dissent on the question. He sent Gottfried Feder to a meeting of the Arbeitsgemeinschaft in late January 1926 to enforce the anti-Russian line. This went down very badly with Goebbels, who launched an impassioned attack on ‘western capitalism’ and a defence of a Russian alliance.4
There was also no consensus over the vexed question of internationalism, which Hitler despised, but to which other senior figures remained strongly attached. Gregor Strasser, in particular, was convinced that Germany should make common cause with the ‘have-nots’ of the world, including colonized peoples of colour. He saw Germany as one of the global underdogs, and envisaged her leading a ‘League of Oppressed Peoples’ in alliance with Russia, Morocco, Persia, India and the other wretched of the earth. ‘The fragmented, martyred, exploited, [and] enslaved Germany,’ Strasser argued, ‘was the natural protagonist and ally of all national liberation fighters’, wherever they were oppressed by ‘French tyranny, British imperialism, [and] American financial exploitation,’ that is, virtually the entire world. Goebbels, for his part, was impressed by Gandhi, whom he likened to a ‘messiah’, though he doubted that his non-violent methods could be applied in Germany.5 Strasser’s internationalism also extended to the field of European integration. In late January 1926, he produced a draft of a new party programme in which he called for a ‘United States of Europe as a European League of Nations with a single currency and measurement system’.6
Matters came to a head on 14 February 1926, when Hitler convened a party congress at Bamberg specifically to settle matters of doctrine, in particular foreign policy. There he insisted on the inviolability of the twenty-five-point programme. Significantly, it was grand strategy, not the debate about socialism or the referendum on the expropriation of princely property, which Hitler concentrated on.7 The meeting turned into a Valentine’s Day massacre of foreign policy dissenters on the ‘left’ of the party; it was their internationalism, not their socialism which Hitler objected to. Rehearsing the themes that would appear in the second volume of Mein Kampf a few months later, Hitler rejected an ‘eastern orientation’, on either traditional Bismarckian or contemporary ideological lines, and proclaimed the primacy of eastern ‘policy’, that is the seizure of living space in the east. Goebbels and other critics were aghast at this ‘reactionary’ turn.8
In mid April 1926, Hitler called another meeting in Munich to demand an end to intra-party squabbling and the establishment of conformity over Russia.9 It was attended by most of the main figures, including Hess, Streicher and Goebbels; the latter’s heartfelt outpourings were rewarded by the Führer with a tearful hug. Hitler essentially repeated his stump speech over three hours, but Goebbels was now much more receptive to what he called the ‘Bamberg arguments’. This time he recorded in his diary that Hitler’s remarks were ‘glowing’. ‘Italy and Britain are our allies,’ he wrote approvingly, ‘Russia wants to eat us. All that is in the forthcoming volume of Mein Kampf.’ With respect to the ‘social question’, where Goebbels had long mistrusted Hitler’s ‘reactionary’ tendencies, he now saw ‘completely new insights. He has thought through everything.’ Hitler’s ‘ideal’, Goebbels continued, was ‘a blend of collectivism and individualism’, in which soil belonged ‘to the people’ while production, which was ‘creative’, should be left to private enterprise. ‘Corporations and trusts,’ he continued, ‘will be socialized. One can talk about that.’ Goebbels concluded with the words ‘I bow to the greater, the political genius.’10
Hitler now moved to reorganize the Nazi Party itself and to turn it into an instrument to gain power. He envisaged a vanguardist role for the NSDAP, which would lead society and the electorate, rather than reflect or represent it. ‘A little group of fanatics,’ he proclaimed, ‘carries the mass along with it.’ ‘Look at Russia and Italy,’ Hitler continued, ‘you can only push through the fight for the majority when you have a powerful minority behind you.’ Here, of course, Hitler was making a virtue out of a vice, but the allusion to the Bolshevik model was revealing. The party was given new statutes. A series of guidelines and circulars followed, some laying down general principles, ot
hers deciding individual questions of policy or personnel. Deviators were expelled, either at Hitler’s request or on the recommendation of the USCHLA. Members were forbidden to join other parties or groups in order to avoid mixed loyalties. ‘It is a false deduction,’ Hitler explained to Eitel Leopold von Görtz-Wrisberg, a member of the Bundesleitung of the Frontkriegerbund in Thuringia, ‘to rely on a man who also belongs to another association because one never knows whose orders he will actually follow’. Hitler also insisted on the payment of membership dues, if only for psychological reasons. ‘One only loves that,’ he argued, ‘for which one makes sacrifices.’11
Crucial to the effectiveness of the party was the establishment of a focal point–what Hitler called a ‘common apex’ and the ‘real Führer’–holding the whole organization together. ‘The idea must also have a geographical central point,’ Hitler continued, citing the respective roles of ‘Mecca, Rome, [and] Moscow’, because if that was lacking then there was a danger of fragmentation. ‘The geopolitical [sic] importance of a central focal point of a movement’ should not be underestimated, he elaborated in Mein Kampf, ‘only the availability of a place with the magic of a Mecca or Rome can in the long run give the movement a force’. The new Rome, Mecca and Moscow was to be Munich, whose party organization was placed directly under that of the Reich leadership. He therefore demanded ‘concentration of the entire work initially on one place: Munich’.12
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