Much naval gazing occurred after the Second World War on the origins and nature of what the German historian Friedrich Meinecke termed the ‘German catastrophe’. Meinecke enlisted the study of socio-economics, national politics, foreign policy and cultural history to examine the reasons for the failure of Weimar Democracy and the rise of Nazism. Then, in the first two decades after the war, historians such as Sir Lewis Bernstein Namier, Leon Poliakov and William Shirer began to play to the gallery, arguing that Hitler and Nazism were the inevitable outcome of German history; a history littered with brutal authoritarianism and leadership cults from Martin Luther, Frederick the Great, Bismarck, the Kaiser and then, of course, Hitler. They proposed that the Germans had a defective gene or flaw in their national character that gave them an unhealthy and unique love of order and authoritarian leadership. A.J.P. Taylor weighed in further with his book The Course of German History, stating that the Third Reich represented the deepest wishes of the German people who had surrendered their liberties to the Reich and demanded — as their just reward — the enslavement of others.(8) These views found an echo with historians around the world, from Peter Viereck in the United States and Edmond Vermeil in France, who agreed that Nazi Germany was no aberration.
This prevailing view was countered by a number of German historians, including Friedrich Meinecke, Gerhard Ritter and Hans Rothfels, who argued that although the Third Reich had its antecedents in the German past, its violent totalitarianism was not the inevitable outcome of German history. Their arguments were refined by the next generation, and the likes of Klaus Hildebrand and Karl Dietrich Bracher, who stated that a combination of factors such as weak government, a failure to evolve more democratic institutions coupled with aggressive nationalism and the divided ‘Lager’ mentality of the main political parties led to the failure of German democracy.
The focus of opinion from the mid 1960s to the 1980s was on Imperial Germany’s failure to develop democratic institutions in depth, which it was argued contributed to the failure of Weimar democracy and the establishment of the Third Reich. Historians such as Fritz Fischer, Hans Mommsen and Ulrich Wehler argued that industrial modernisation in Imperial Germany was only partially followed by modernisation in the political, social and economic sphere, stating that by the late nineteenth century Germany remained a ‘pre-modern’ society, still predominantly ruled by the old pre-industrial conservative aristocratic elites. This argument suggested that it all started to go wrong in 1848–1849 when, as A.J.P. Taylor had said, ‘The German revolution failed to turn,’ when leading opposition figures either emigrated or knuckled down to work within the confines of authoritarian democracy.(9) These historians emphasised that from 1870 to 1945 the ‘secondary values’ of the authoritarian elites were out of step with trends in other Western democracies. These included obedience, order, respect for authority and the military, and an obsessive pride in the German language, culture and history. They argued that this mindset was also influenced from the late nineteenth century by new undercurrents of volkish (racial) nationalism and anti-Semitism. Following the First World War, a large reservoir of the old elites remained deeply opposed to Western liberal republicanism, the ‘decadence’ of the Weimar Republic, and were increasingly intent upon the establishment of a new coalition of forces on the right, even if it meant harnessing the revolutionary qualities of Nazis.
Only in the 1980s did new criticism of this Sonderweg thesis begin to emerge, with the likes of British Marxist historians such as David Blackbourn and Geoff Eley, who argued that there was no such thing as a ‘normal’ course of socio-economic or political development, and aspects of societal life in Great Britain and France were even more infused with ‘aristocratic values’ than they were in Germany.(10) Meanwhile, German historians like Michael Stürmer began to argue against the Sonderweg thesis, suggesting that Germany’s unique geography — being at the centre of Europe and surrounded by predatory neighbours — necessitated a more authoritarian model for its ultimate survival. Stürmer was one of the key figures who unleashed what became known as the ‘Historikerstreit’ (the argument among historians), a dispute which raged between historians during the late 1980s about how the Holocaust should be interpreted in history. The Historikerstreit grew into a left-versus-right argument about the nature of history. The left, adherents of the Sonderweg thesis, labelled the right as apologists who were attempting to whitewash German history, accusing them of fundamental ‘revisionism’ and of trying to relativise the Holocaust. The German philosopher and historian Jürgen Habermas took this to extreme lengths, arguing that German history begins and ends with Auschwitz, whereas the right countered that, like any other nation, Germany needed to find healthy elements in its own past to celebrate to establish a positive sense of nationhood and national identity. Stürmer, whose views were taken very seriously because he was an advisor and speech-writer for the German Chancellor, Helmut Kohl, insisted that Germany had uniquely become ‘a land without history’. Other historians on the right added new controversial perspectives: Ernst Nolte attempted to play down the ‘singularity’ of the Holocaust by comparing it to other genocides, while Andreas Hillgruber in his book Zweierlei Untergang (which roughly translated means ‘The downfall of two peoples’) compared the fate of the Jews in Europe with the destruction of the German Reich.(11)
Some attempts at synthesis were made by Karl Dietrich Bracher and Richard Lowenthal who agreed that while comparing different totalitarian regimes was a valid historical discourse — appeasing some on the right — the Holocaust should not be compared to other genocides and thus should not be relativised — appeasing some on the left. The study of German history has also led to the effort to find greater areas of synergy in the study of socio-economic, societal and not least the role of Great Men in History; particularly with reference to the study of the Holocaust and the role Adolf Hitler played in orchestrating the ‘Final Solution’. Functionalist (structuralist) historians on the left have emphasised the role that German history, and society, and even the number of people involved from the lower ranks of German society also played in the Holocaust. They reject the intentionalists’ notion that the enormity of this genocide can be pinned on one man, or even a small criminal clique. Richard J. Evans argued that there was a middle way, that Nazism had its roots in both German history and society, but that the Third Reich was not the inevitable outcome of German history. Sir Ian Kershaw went on to argue that the Holocaust came from above and below, with no ‘master plan’ from the outset, but that Hitler was the driving force behind the Holocaust in a gathering a storm of ‘cumulative radicalization’. The irony is that in attempting to move the emphasis on German history away from the narrow focus on the Nazi era, these historical debates have actually kept our sights fixed squarely on the ‘German catastrophe’ and the Holocaust in particular.(12)
In 1996, Daniel Goldhagen’s hugely successful book, Hitler’s Willing Executioners, not only reignited the debate on the uniqueness of Germany’s anti-Semitism but also revived the idea of the ‘collective guilt’ of the German people as a whole; a notion that underpinned many, if not all, of the historians on the left who’d held fast to the German Sonderweg thesis.(13) Since 2000, a number of the old taboos regarding German history have slowly begun to fall by the wayside; perhaps helped by the dawn of a new millennium, and the added sense of distance this date gives. For the first time since the 1950s, German historians began to look at the suffering of their own people, both during and after the Second World War. It became apparent that a new generation was emerging; one that felt the Second World War was passing into history. For decades German historians struggled to come to terms with the scale of Germany’s human, cultural and territorial losses. The German historian Heribert Seifert, in a heated debate about whether Germans could, in any way, be allowed to regard themselves as victims, argued; ‘All debate about the horrors of the war has been overshadowed by the enormity of the Holocaust, but the debate can now begin, precisely because
no one who wants to be taken seriously can today deny Auschwitz or German responsibility.’(14) Even such modest comments provoked shouts of ‘revisionism’ — a bad word among the establishment, but essentially it equates to no more than the reinterpretation of orthodox views. Even A.J.P. Taylor, the most successful British historian of the twentieth century, a man with no love of the Germans, was accused of revisionism in his highly successful book on the origins of the Second World War.
Of course, this summary of the historiography is only a simple overview to provide those who are not academic historians with an idea of how the debate on German history has evolved. My goal has been to write a book that would be accessible to the widest possible readership in an attempt to steer a path between writing an academic history and one that will appeal to a larger audience, the subjects explored in this book present a broader perspective on German history than usual. Thus what follows is an examination of the history of German Central Europe past and present with an underlying political narrative. This book also covers socio-economic history, a little of the History of Great Men and attempts to convey some of the cultural backdrop to the eras it covers so as to enhance the overall picture. Naturally no single history book can cover everything. Each covers some areas in more depth than others, and the specialist may find some favourite area neglected. Yet my aim has been to plug the gaps in the history books of recent decades, to focus on those areas that have received the least attention, or those for which new interpretations are warranted. Ultimately history is not a science; the ideas and interpretations of historians cannot be tested in a laboratory to give a determined result. If you fill a room with ten historians you will most likely get at least fifteen interpretations. Therefore this book reflects my personal journey and is one man’s perspective. As an academic and a layperson, I have always urged readers of any subject to acquire as many different perspectives as they can.
Introduction
Most histories of Germany focus on the period from 1870–1945, primarily due to the mass of available sources and because this is when Germany emerged as the nation we recognise today. A period full of wars, high drama, and enormous socio-economic upheaval, set against a backdrop of European imperialism and power, which makes this particular era both fascinating and intriguing for professional historians, authors, filmmakers and their audiences. However, any history that begins with the creation of Bismarck’s colossus and then tries to link up all the dots from then to Hitler is not likely to help anyone understand the history of a people that is far more than the twelve years of the Nazi genocide. This trend towards the compartmentalisation and minimalisation of German history is evident in the facetious dubbing of the History Channel as the ‘Hitler Channel’ and the fact that over two-thirds of the 57,000 books listed on Amazon under the subject heading of ‘German history’ focus on the history of the Third Reich.
Because of this trend, few people know that German kaisers (emperors) were kings of Jerusalem or involved in the Crusades at all, or that Charlemagne (Karl der Große) was not French, and that there was ever a 1,000-year empire ruled by German dynasties. While on a visit to the great cathedrals at Aachen, Speyer, Trier and Mainz, my English friends were amazed to learn that these structures had been built well before Westminster Abbey. Many will be astonished to learn that German kings played a key role in appointing and deposing popes and in protecting, shaping, and then checking the power of the Roman Catholic church, long before the reign of Henry VIII. Few will know of Frederick the Great as the ‘philosopher king’ of Prussia — the most resolutely religiously tolerant nation in Europe. How many are aware of the German contribution to the European Enlightenment, which would have been of a very different quality without Gutenberg’s invention of printing or the leading role Martin Luther played in disseminating the ideas of the Protestant Reformation. With a selective historical focus from 1870 to 1945, which ignores a more liberal past and blacks out the consequences of the self-inflicted Nazi catastrophe post-1945, students, amateur and even professional historians are bound to get a warped perspective of German history. It is worth noting that while Germany and Italy are among the youngest nation states in Europe, few would argue that the Italians are not a people with a shared culture, historical experiences or consciousness, in the way people do about the Germans. One has to ask, could you summarise British history by only studying the period of 1870 to 1945? Could British history be explained fully without Elizabeth I or the English Civil War? Would American history make much sense without an explanation of the War of Independence and its own civil war? The obsession with the Third Reich has concealed Germany’s rich history and this imbalance is one that this book seeks to address. I hope you will find this perspective on German history both timely and refreshingly new, and one that will challenge long-established and firmly-held perceptions of the German people and their country.
The intention of this book is to transport you back to the origins of German history, travelling back to antiquity to recall the clash of the Germanic tribes with the Roman Empire, then to examine the great migration of these tribes who went on to build the foundations for many of Europe’s nation states: Angles and the Saxons in Britannia, Saxons in Germania, Visigoths in Spain, Lombards in Italy and the Franks in France, showing how ‘barbarians at the gate’ went on to become Holy Roman Emperors.
In chapters two to four, we explore the origins of German settlement from the early twelfth century onwards in Central and Eastern Europe — a generation after the Norman Conquest of Britain, examining the causes, conflicts and consequences of this settlement and the enormous economic and cultural benefits it brought. This process of German settlement came to cover a vast swathe of Europe, extending from the river Elbe in the west, to the far reaches of the Baltic in modern day Estonia, and as far east as Transylvania and the Carpathian mountains of modern day Romania and the Western Ukraine. Further exploration is made into the complex patchwork that was the Holy Roman Empire of the German nation (or the First Reich), and the role that German-Austria played in shaping German-speaking central Europe for over half a millennium. These chapters also examine the rise of Prussia from the time of the Eastern Crusades by the Order of the Teutonic Knights, and how the perceptions of Prussia have changed over the centuries. As part of this discourse, the growing rivalry between Austria and Prussia, within the Holy Roman Empire, and the battle for supremacy within the German Confederation is discussed. And how successive foreign incursions, invasions and occupations of the German-speaking lands played a formative role in shaping the national consciousness of Germany and fuelled Prussia’s drive towards militarism. Chapter four concludes with the unification of Germany under Bismarck, how this shattered the post-Napoleonic balance of power on the European Continent, and set in motion a complex new alliance system, which then began to unravel as soon as Kaiser Wilhelm II ascended to the throne.
Chapter five sets German Imperialism within the context of a wider world of global imperialism, when European powers were on their way to conquering and enslaving half of the world’s population. This kind of contextualisation is all too rare, with generations of historians having viewed (and been trained) to examine growing German imperial aspirations in isolation. Chapter six follows on by charting the events that led up to the First World War, which are mapped out in some detail, together with the legacy that the subsequent peace settlements bequeathed Weimar Germany and Europe during the inter-war years.
In chapters seven and eight, the rise and fall of the Third Reich is explored in depth, together with the role Hitler played within the Nazi movement, the path to war, the regime’s genocidal imperialism, the Holocaust and how Nazi violence rolled back on the German civilian population at the end of the war with unimaginable ferocity.
Uncharacteristically the book does not end here, on 8th May 1945, because the killing didn’t end then either. The death toll of German civilians continued to climb exponentially after the war ended. It was during this period that the ‘w
ild expulsions’, ethnic cleansing and liquidation of German civilisation east of the Oder-Neisse rivers and the Erzgebirge mountains really began. When more German civilians were killed than during the first five years of the war, and an ‘exodus’ took place that represented the largest mass movement of people in the modern era. Chapters eight and nine focus almost exclusively on the last dark chapter of the Second World War and the immediate post-war consequences for the one community that no one appeared to give a damn about — the Germans: Reich Germans from Silesia, Pomerania, Eastern Brandenburg, Prussia and the eastern Baltic, as well as former Austro-Germans from the Sudetenland, the Danube Swabians in Yugoslavia and the Siebenburger Saxons of Romania among others. The revulsion that brewed against the Nazis and their atrocities was harnessed to make a clean sweep of the Germans of Eastern Europe, turning the ethnic map of the continent back by over 700 years.
The Nazis’ plan for Lebensraum in the east had they won the war envisaged the removal or enslavement of 30 million Slavs under the provisions of Generalplan Ost. With the uncomfortable acquiescence of the Western Allies, Stalin turned this policy back on the Germans of Central and Eastern Europe imposing a Nazi-style solution of his own and removing 19 million Germans from Central and Eastern Europe, dumping those that survived in the shattered remnants of the old Reich. Harvard Professor Steve Ozment, in his History of Germany, characterised the great historical ‘cover up’ for much of the first fifty years after the war by saying, ‘German crimes led directly to German suffering — but that, it is now widely agreed, is no reason for German suffering to be passed over in silence.’(15) The crimes of the regime were unparalleled in the modern era. So why should anyone care that the punishment of the nation which committed the Holocaust was also unprecedented? One must ask the question; is it ever right to condemn or persecute an entire people for the actions of their leaders? Not least when those leaders held sway over a brutal dictatorship. Contrary to Nazi and Allied propaganda, which depicted a unified Volksmeinschaft (people’s community) with all the German people standing as one behind the Führer, in the last free election in Germany in November 1932, before the Nazis dissolved all political parties and jailed opposition leaders in concentration camps, only one in four Germans actually voted for Hitler. The veil that has been drawn over the horrors that the German people were subjected to at the end of the war and during the years of the occupation, have led younger generations to believe that the German people suffered very little, and probably not enough for the consequences of their leaders’ actions, or for what the people did, or failed to do.
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