History would record the years after the war as filled with turmoil. Because of the political crisis, a scientific event of monumental proportions was virtually ignored. The physicists at the Kaiser Wilhelm Institute were concerned with something much more fundamental than political turmoil - an imminent eclipse of the sun. This eclipse was significant. The opportunity to measure the gravitational force of the sun on the light from the Hyades group of stars would not occur again for several hundred years. Hanz Eichenwald knew this was not just a chance of a lifetime but of several lifetimes. To be working in the same Institute with Max Planck and Albert Einstein was something Hanz never could have imagined. Planck, in 1900, working on a theory to explain the relationship between radiation and matter, had postulated that energy existed in small discrete bundles he called quanta, taken from the Latin word ‘how much’. And Einstein was opening his theories of relativity to the world. The depth of their discussions was beyond ordinary mortals. As they pondered the implications of general relativity theory, they were anxious for the breakthroughs of proof.
The law of energy conservation had been proposed in the mid-1800s. It stated that both energy and matter (mass) exist in a fixed amount. One can be converted to the other but the total amount of each will always remain constant in the universe. Man can convert mass to energy and energy back to mass, but is incapable of “creating” either one. And yet with the amount of mass/energy fixed, it was becoming more obvious that the entire universe was changing. The old idea that the universe was static and had always existed as such, did not fit what Einstein was observing. He began to reason that the universe was actually finite and at some point had a beginning. One day Einstein was discussing the topic with Hanz.
“If the universe had a beginning, what existed before?” “Nothing!” Einstein exclaimed. “Nothing existed before - void.”
“So, we might assume there may have been an enormous black space full of nothing?” Hanz asked.
“No! An enormous black space is something - void is nothing. Void has no reference in human experience, no reference at all.”
Einstein posited two conclusions about the origin of the universe. One, it came into being by chance. Or two, it was brought into being by a self-existent power out of nothing - ex nihilo. Chance, a random event, could not produce something from nothing. A universe of a hundred million galaxies did not come about by chance. But he also believed that a beginning event would necessarily require the concept of infinity. Mathematics, even theoretical mathematics, cannot handle infinite numbers. So the theory of general relativity itself predicted that there is a point, a beginning, where the theory breaks down.
“We can only know what has happened since the beginning, not before,” Einstein reasoned. He was convinced of a genesis event. But as to what brought it about and how it occurred, he remained uncertain.
A few weeks after the armistice was signed officially ending the war, Britain’s Royal Astronomical Society announced that it would send two expeditions to photograph the eclipse. The areas where it could be best observed were the town of Sobral in northern Brazil and the island of Principe in the Gulf of Guinea. General relativity had predicted that light should be bent by gravitational field influence. So light from a distant star would appear to be in a different position to an observer on earth. During the eclipse the moon blocked the sun’s light in such a way that the star’s light could be photographed and measured. British teams were on both locations.
Einstein was asked to compute how much the light rays of the Hyades should be deflected by the sun’s gravity. His computed answer was 1.75 seconds of an arc. Photographs were taken during the eclipse and during an ordinary evening. After several months the returned data showed the sun’s gravity had deflected the light 1.64 seconds of an arc, almost exactly matching Einstein’s estimate. When the results were disclosed at the next meeting of the Royal Society, one of the members later was quoted as saying, “The whole atmosphere of tense interest was exactly that of a Greek Drama. We were the chorus commenting on the decree of destiny as disclosed in the development of a supreme incident.”
Hanz Eichenwald had been confident of what the findings would show, now for the proof. He had spent countless hours contemplating the implications of general relativity. Concepts that previously could not be proved, he now knew to be true. Nevertheless, he would spend years bringing this new found knowledge alongside all he had been taught as a student of the physical sciences.
As a child, Hanz had read, over and over, the first declaration of the Torah.
“Bereshith” - in the beginning, “Elohim”- God, “bara”- created, shamayin-ara all things.” He had wanted to believe this as a child and dealt with it in his imagination. He viewed all he saw as mystical, all in the heavens and in the earth. To a great extent as an adult he still did. But now there was scientific evidence that seemed to confirm the ancient Hebrew manuscripts. His depth of understanding was still limited, but what had been mystical was now being proved reality.
The goal of Imperial Germany to dominate Europe by force was destined to fail almost from the start. German society was filled with deep fissures. The strains of war deepened those divisions. No adult citizen could escape intimate connection to the conflagration. The war belonged to everyone. A total of 13 million Germans had served in the military. Almost 2 million had died. From a world of peace and stability, the people were catapulted into a reality of death and destruction.
The German economy had been massively distorted by the industrialized warfare. The cost in financial terms was almost as devastating as the loss of life. Taxation covered only about 14 percent of expenditures. War bonds were used for the short fall. After the expected German victory, the bonds were to be redeemed through reparations from the defeated enemies of the Reich. But there was no victory, and no defeated enemies. Reparations would be paid by Germans not to Germans. To fund the war, the government simply printed more money. The resulting inflation was devastating. By 1918, the German mark had lost 70 percent of its pre-war value and was rapidly on the way to becoming worthless.
The war also contributed to what one observer called a ‘moratorium on morality’. Crimes of all types increased. So did the rate of divorce, sexual immorality and the resultant venereal diseases. The numbers of fatherless children tripled. Some of the bitterest divisions in war torn Germany were racial. In 1916, the war ministry conducted a ‘Jew-count’ to shed light on who was actually doing the fighting. The survey was never published because it actually showed strong support for the war by Jews. They had been accused of prospering while others were dying. The strongest testimony of Jewish patriotism was the 12,000 war dead buried in Jewish cemeteries. The Eichenwalds, along with most Jewish families, had relatives who had died in the war. Jewish men had put their lives on the line along with thousands of other Germans.
* * *
Anna’s world was a small sphere, one that swirled with school activities, friends and fashion. Her exposure to the war was limited. What she knew of it, she knew from her best friend, Erin Nitschmann. Erin’s brother Peter had been in the war. Anna and Erin, as the only Jewish girls in their class, spent their time together. Although physically dissimilar, they were kindred spirits. Anna was tall, strikingly defined by the locks of dark hair that framed her aqua-blue eyes like a painting. Most of her physical traits were inherited from her father. But she had also received a good bit of his intellect. She tended to stay to herself focusing on academics. Erin, on the other hand, was assertive by nature and comfortable in confrontations. Her parents were professional musicians, both performers with the Berlin Philharmonic. Erin’s father was the violin first chair and concertmaster. Her mother played the cello and was the stabilizing force in the Nitschmann family. Erin had studied violin since she was five-years old. With her pale skin, light blue eyes and long, strawberry blond hair pulled carefully into a pony tail, Erin appeared almost fragile. But those who came to know her discovered she was as willful as she was sweet, with a truly indefatigable nature.
Hans and Marlene were lovers of classical music. So the two families formed a natural bond that went beyond the friendship of their daughters. Each month, the Eichenwalds attended the symphony and frequently included Erin, whose parents were always performing. On occasion they would get together at one of their homes where they would be joined by Albert and Mrs. Einstein. Albert made no effort to hide his desire to play the violin, especially with the concertmaster. The two often played violin duets late into the night. These impromptu ‘concerts’ were a joy to all, but especially to the professor, who had often thought that if he had the talent, he would give up physics for a ‘true profession.’
Before the war’s end, Erin’s mother had been unable to quell her concerns about the conflict. One of the darkest moments she had ever faced was the day she watched her son go off to war. She stood in the doorway overcome with sadness as she watched him leave. Since the morning she closed the door behind her, she had been unable to think of anything but his safety. The only respite she had from her worry were the moments in which she felt a sense of gratitude that he served in the artillery corps and not in the trenches. An activist in politics supporting the Social Democratic Party, she and her husband were well known in Berlin’s music circles. Under normal circumstances, she would not have involved herself in the patriotic hoopla on Unter den Linden. But with Peter directly involved in the war, she now felt an obligation to involve herself. She joined the Nationaler Frauendienst (National Women’s Service), the first and largest volunteer organization to mobilize German civilians. Working closely with the Red Cross, many Social Democratic party members joined socialists, Catholics and Jews to form Germany’s most extensive welfare organization. The main function was to aid those families whose fathers had been mobilized to the front or who had become unemployed due to the downturn in business. The organization also ran day care centers, kindergartens and reading rooms. Anna and Erin greatly admired Paula’s passion for the needy. Week-ends usually found them offering to help her by working in daycare centers and filling in at reading rooms.
During the post-war years, the German people experienced for the first time, life without a monarchy. For some, this was a time of sadness. For others, it was a time to become more independent. Initially there had been national solidarity. Now the society was fragmented – a state that would eventually determine the politics of the post-war era.
The abolition of reason for 66 million Germans was a process, a shifting paradigm. The transformation of this society from one having a moral basis of reason to an amoral one was subtle. If one places a frog in very hot water, the frog will immediately jump out. If the same frog is placed in tepid water and the water is gradually heated, the frog will remain in the water until cooked. This slow transformation could not fully take place without a leader. The Germans were now sheep without a shepherd. A cunning shepherd would come. And he would lead them to their own destruction.
Adolph Hitler served as a dispatch runner during World War I. He demonstrated little in the way of leadership and never rose above the rank of corporal. But he made up for it in courage. In November 1914, he narrowly escaped serious injury, possibly death. He was instructed to deliver an important dispatch to a forward command post. He arrived safely but declined an opportunity to stay for coffee. Within minutes of his departure, a French artillery shell hit the post, killing and severely wounding every man there. For bravery in the line of duty, Hitler was awarded the Iron Cross, second class. Two years later, a shrapnel injury from a British shell put him in a Berlin hospital. Returning to the front in 1918, he received a second injury. This time he was partially blinded by mustard gas. During his convalescence, the Armistice was signed. News of the defeat was emotionally shattering to him. Hitler became depressed and simultaneously began to cultivate an intense hatred for those he deemed ‘responsible’ for losing the war. This hatred would eventually be the driving force for his later attempt at European conquest.
With the Armistice signed, Field Marshal Hindenburg ordered a return of the army from the front. Within a month the difficult task of marching two million front line infantry from France to Germany began. The defeated military faced the march back home, only to arrive at a defeated and discouraged country. The mood of the German people could not have been lower, but President Ebert and the cabinet members were encouraged when they saw the vanguard of nine divisions marching down Unter den Linden. Hindenburg had kept them outside the city for a week of ‘R and R.’ Somewhat rested, their appearance belied the despair they all felt.
“I salute you,” Ebert declared as he welcomed them at the Brandenburg Gate.
A crisis in governmental authority was looming, however, and while most of the soldiers returned to their homes, thousands more took to the streets adding to the frenetic atmosphere in Berlin. They had an underlying pellucid hostility about their “defeat”.
Shortly after the army returned, the National Congress of Workers and Soldiers Council were formed. It represented a backlash against the military, with the goal of replacing the current military officers with ‘elected’ officers. Eventually the entire army would become the Volkswehr or people’s army.
During the first post-war month, a military rally was held in the Berlin Philharmonic Hall in an effort to gain support for the Soldier’s Council and the Volkswehr. A government spokesman had the floor and made the argument that ‘elected officers would be accountable to the people.’ Suddenly he was interrupted by a 25-year old Air Force captain named Herman Goering. This former commander of the Richthofen Squadron wore Germany’s highest medal, Pourle Marite.
“I implore you to cherish hatred – a profound, abiding hatred of those animals that have outraged the German people,” he cried. “The day will come when we will drive them out of our Germany!”
The meeting had been organized to bring discredit to the military, but the tone quickly changed as the anti-military supporters were shouted out of the hall. Lines of conflict were quickly being drawn and hatred began building among WWI veterans toward anyone who was anti-military.
Eighty miles north of Berlin, a half-blinded corporal confined to the hospital in Pasewalk, had already dedicated himself to that hatred. Several years later, Hitler would write in Mien Kampf the nature of his feelings the instant he learned of the German surrender in 1918.
“Everything went black before my eyes. I tattered and groped my way back to the dormitory, threw myself on my bunk and dug my burning head into my blanket and pillow…so it had all been in vain. In vain all the sacrifices…in vain all the death of two millions…there followed terrible days and even worse nights…in these nights hatred grew in me, hatred for those responsible for this deed. In the days that followed, my own fate became known to me…I, for my part, decided to go into politics.”
In 1918 Germany was now a country of demoralized people seeking an identity. This once proud and united country was now fiercely divided. Radical right and left ideologies were growing. A society shattered by the consequences of military defeat was now splintered by classes, regions and religions. Their problems were of monumental proportions - inflation, unemployment, food shortages, reparations, and the threat of foreign invasion. Germany was now the ‘whipping boy’ of their enemies.
The ultra-liberal political left of 1918 was led by Karl Leibknecht. But the real source of this ideology was another German born exactly 100 years before - Karl Marx.
The son of a liberal Jewish lawyer, he studied law at the University of Bonn and eventually became an intellectual philosopher at the University of Berlin. But his radical views forced him to leave Germany within a few months of his teaching appointment.
He emigrated to Paris, then London, where he was befriended by Friedrich Engels, another German. On the anniversary of the French Revolution, in February 1848, they published the Communist Manifesto, a book that would bring them fame as well as infamy.
The war had long since lost the glory it once possessed. Government efforts to generate fresh enthusiasm for killing had failed. Bravery, honor and valor, imagined or unimagined, could not be sustained without cause in the reality of death and destruction. Working class men and women were realizing the war was being perpetuated by the military-industrial complex to serve class ends. War aims were proving divisive, especially in Germany and Russia. War weariness led to a surge of left wing militancy. As a result, Lenin’s Bolsheviks seized power in Russia through violent revolution.
The goal of Liebkneckt was to duplicate the Russian experience. He was the first Reichstag member to actively work against the war. In his mind the plan could not fail; organize workers for strikes and demonstrations; publish a newspaper; control the streets by New Year’s, 1919. The power of the people demonstrated with ruthless acts of violence in Russia would surely spread to central Europe. The time was ripe. Democracy would be seen as basically corrupt, and given the opportunity, the people would agree and rise up to overthrow the government.
Rosa Luxemburg, and old ally of Liebkneckt, had returned to Germany from Poland, deeply involved in the Socialist movement. She was a woman of great intellect, a gifted writer and orator and considered the equal of even Lenin. During the war, Luxemburg had spent several months in prison for her role in anti-government and anti- war demonstrations. While in prison, she penned a series of letters on socialist doctrine and the dogma of peace at any price. Now back in Germany and with the war ended, she helped the Worker’s movement extend its power. Eventually the Worker’s movement merged with the left wing of the Independent Socialist and the Revolutionary Shop Stewards. Liebkneckt and Luxemburg had decided the timing was right. Under their influence and leadership, the three merged groups formed a new political party - the Communist Party of Germany.
* * *
The school year was drawing to a close and not too soon for Anna. The last weeks dragged slowly. Exams were finished. Parties and ceremonies were on the horizon. Anna had the usual casual school friends and then her ‘best friends’. She and Erin were more like sisters and were looking forward to entering University together. They had started looking for an apartment and the excitement of being independent was building. A young man of middle-eastern descent, Uri Avner, was another of Anna’s ‘best friends.’ Uri had emigrated with his family from Egypt when he was twelve-years old. His father was a career diplomat at the Egyptian Consulate and for the past three years had been Charge d’ affaires. His mother was a Coptic Christian and his father a non-practicing Muslim. Uri was living in spiritual no-man’s land. He was bright, with dark brown eyes and jet black hair which he preferred to wear long but kept short because of school regulations. Berlin was very cosmopolitan so he did not draw attention in public places. He was not involved in athletics, but was in the chess club and spent much of his after school hours playing chess. He won several tournaments in the previous year. As a foreign student, he tended to keep to himself. This was largely the reason for Anna’s attraction to him. In turn, Uri enjoyed the company of the girl who was the top graduate of the class, to say nothing of her extraordinary good looks. School was easy for him, and he excelled with little effort. Chess and girls aside, Uri’s passion was politics.
When he was 15, Uri read and absorbed Marx’s Communist Manifesto. He had followed the post-war political turmoil of his adopted country with intense interest. Even though Arabic was his first language, Uri was fluent in German and had mastered it with virtually no foreign accent. He also spoke a fair amount of English. The prison letters of Rosa Luxemburg had found their way into his hands and he was keenly aware of the slightest changes in the political atmosphere. He observed that personal liberties had significantly diminished during the war and the war-time propaganda was especially egregious to him. The slogan ‘love your country and defend it’ had morphed into ‘hate your enemy and kill him.’
Although Anna had no serious interest in politics, she spent hours listening to Uri’s observations. He pointed out that escalation of the war had translated directly to increased profits of the upper class. The war had become a self-perpetuating monster, feeding on itself and governments had become prisoners of their own propaganda. The Volk were fighting the war and the Volk were bearing the hardships created by it.
“Anna, it will be 1,000 years before that changes,” he once told her.
“I don’t doubt what you say, but it’s hard for me to relate to it,” she replied. “I suppose we are a bit isolated from all this. Our government must put the war behind us and move on to rebuild. Don’t you agree?”
Uri raised his gaze and gave her a penetrating look.
“The critical question remains this. ‘How IS that going to happen?’ Fundamental changes are needed, sweeping changes.”
The week before their graduation, Uri and Anna spent a Saturday afternoon at the Berlin Museum of Natural History. After touring the museum, they made their way to the basement coffee shop.
“Anna!” Uri suddenly exclaimed. “Everything that’s taking place in Russia could happen here in Germany. The workers have forced an end to Czarism and now there’s an apparent Bolshevik victory.”
Anna was aware that changes were taking place in Russia. But she was unaware that the Czar had been overthrown. Uri’s information had come from some of his underground socialist connections, something he was unwilling to share even with Anna. She was now more interested and decided to press him for more details.
“How do you know the Czar has been overthrown? I haven’t read anything about it.”
Uri avoided her gaze and said softly, “Well I just know.”
They enjoyed going to the coffee house and sampling the varieties of coffee, tea, pastries and pate`. They usually sat in the corner away from the counter. Anna’s favorite treat was the lemon custard pastry with the buttery flavored crust. Taking a bite, she thought about their conversation. She hadn’t sensed anything unusual in it, since Uri’s passion for politics was always on the surface. University students were always keenly interested in the process of change. The idea of revolution only heightened the excitement. Uri had decided the day before that he would not share with Anna an event that was dominating his thoughts. On May 17th he had secretly joined the newly formed German Communist Party. Now another woman was getting his attention - Rosa Luxemburg.
* * *
The default candidate to spearhead the new government, Friedrich Ebert, was a thoughtful and resourceful man. Although normally non-confrontational, he was distressed by the bravado of the socialist movement. The military had pledged their support to the new Ebert-led government, but he desperately needed a candidate for defense minister. A man named Gustar Noske had been suggested by General Groner. After a meeting with Noske, Ebert felt he was a man he could trust. That trust quickly paid dividends when Noske learned of a secret plan to organize a new kind of volunteer force known as Freikorps (Free Corps). They would be highly mobile “storm battalions” comprised of only the most loyal and disciplined war veterans. They were organized with great flexibility having short, eight week tours of duty. Over several months they developed into about 200 frenetic units, with a loyalty to no one except their own unit commanders. A number of brigades were comprised of soldiers who had fought in the Baltic, and they brought with them their traditional fighting symbol, the Swastika.
Originally the Freikorps represented their officer’s passionate desire to rebuild an effective military. Wartime forced men into a polarity - friend or foe. Through the activity of the Freikorps, this polarity was being displayed in the streets of most German cities. It would soon become clear that these men had no scruples about killing political enemies. The Freikorps principal enemy was the socialist left and their desire to impose their Russian style ideology on German society.
As the new government was evolving in the post-armistice confusion, a number of bizarre events occurred. One of the strangest involved the Berlin Police Department. On one Monday morning, Emil Eichorn, the leader of the Independent Socialist Party, walked into the central station and boldly announced that he had been authorized to take over the Berlin Police. The whole thing was a fabrication, but there was no one to contradict the claim, and so he did. In December, the new Ebert government dismissed him, bringing on a major confrontational crisis. Outside police headquarters in the Alexanderplatz, restless Berliners mobilized by the thousands. Eichorn appeared on the balcony vowing he would not give up the post. Inside, ten top left-wing political leaders were meeting. Karl Liebknecht, head of the German Communist Party, was the most influential. They made a momentous decision which was unanimous. Now was the time for revolution. Liebknecht addressed the crowd outside. His words were greeted with thunderous approval as red flags waved, hands and hats rose into the air.
When night fell, word quickly spread that a general strike would begin the following morning. Working men and women felt that finally they had the power to shape their future. The strike succeeded in closing most of Berlin’s factories, stores, and public transportation. Electricity was lost in most of the city as more than 200,000 demonstrators surged through the streets. They seized rail stations, newspapers, and even controlled the Brandenburg Gate for a time. The attempted liberal coup was given the name Spartakus, and involved some 250,000 unemployed who were desperate and ready for change. Both liberal and conservative sympathizers took to the streets. Over the four-day strike and confrontation, the death toll approached 1,000. Unfortunately, the conflict would not be resolved without further violence.
Within 48 hours the Freikorps began hunting for Karl Liebknecht. He had vacated the street battleground and decided to go into hiding in the slum district of Neukolln. Mostly ignoring the ruin of the revolt he had started, he was informed his own wife and son had been arrested. Still, he chose to stay in hiding. The Freikorps intensified their search. From the second floor apartment window with curtains closed, Liebknecht was watching the patrols below. Soon they would be going door to door. On the night of January 14, he decided to flee to the middle class district of Wilmersdorf. A communist sympathizer offered his apartment and Liebknecht was joined there by two other fugitives, Rosa Luxemburg and Wilhelm Pieck, a communist party operative. Earlier Pieck had secured false identity papers for the two leaders to aid their escape effort.
The situation grew desperate and the three fugitives discussed their strategy. Liebknecht and Luxemburg were the main targets.
“We should move in the next 48 hours,” Rosa said in a hushed voice. “I feel we should go by auto because they’ll be watching the train stations.”
“I can be in contact tonight with someone who can get an auto,” said Pieck. “The identity papers we have are very authentic. The key is to get out of Berlin and get to the country-side.”
Liebknecht knew but did not say that he had great fear of the Freikorps. Rosa felt they would be sent to prison and the movement would be set back for as long as three to five years. Liebknecht feared they would not get to prison alive.
On the evening of the following day an informant notified the authorities of their location. Freikorps troops quickly surrounded the apartment and took them into custody. Freikorps headquarters had been set up in the Eden Hotel next to the Berlin Zoo. Liebknecht and Luxemburg were placed in separate rooms for ‘interrogation’. The beatings were severe. Of note, Wilhelm Pieck was kept in a hallway escaping harsh treatment. Colleagues later came to the conclusion that he was the informant who had given them up. The following day they were placed in separate cars for transport to Moabit Prison.
The first car carrying Liebknecht detoured to the Tiergarten and stopped in one of the dark by-ways. Stunned and bleeding, he was pushed from the auto and shot multiple times. It was later reported that he was shot while trying to escape. As for Rosa Luxemburg, she was riding in the back seat of the second car and was told she was being transported to prison to await prosecution. Instead, she was forced to bend over in the seat and was shot in the back of the head. Her body was dumped in the Landwehr Canal.
With their leaders murdered, the communists lost virtually all of the momentum they had seized in their attempt to gain control of the new Republic.
One week after the murders, 30 million Germans went to the polls. Political violence had become all too common and the voters welcomed the opportunity to confirm the democratic process. For millions of Germans, this squalid chapter of their history was being closed. Friedrich Ebert and the Social Democrats were given a solid majority. The man who had been the de facto president was now Germany’s duly elected Chief of State. With little formal training he faced the monumental task of trying to save this sinking ‘Ship of State.’ His country had no guiding paradigm. His mandate was to draft a constitution and establish a legitimate parliamentary government. A constitutional assembly would be held, but Berlin was still unsafe. Ebert decided to hold the assembly in Weimer, some 200 kilometers southwest of the capitol. The assembly convened in the National Theater where Franz Liszt had once conducted Wagner’s Lohengrin.
Ebert was overwhelmingly elected the first president of the new Republic, a formality of the assembly. Then the delegates began the task of considering the new constitution. A rough draft had been completed by Hugo Press, a liberal professor of law at the University of Berlin. It contained features borrowed from the American, British, and French constitutions. Specifically, the president would have broad powers and be elected by popular vote. Proportional representation would protect minority interests, and the provincial state governments would have a great deal of autonomy.
The delegates spent weeks debating every detail, from protection of local interests to a new design for the flag. The final draft was met with approval. But the document was flawed and would prove to be greatly beneficial to the Nazi cabal to come. The provincial autonomy would allow Hitler and his group to flourish in their early days in Bavaria. Article 48 specifically gave the German president the power to rule by decree. It was this provision that paved the road that Hitler would travel to become Chancellor in 1933. The genesis of the Nazi Third Reich was, to a great extent, made possible by a document which had been very carefully crafted by men who did not see how it could be used to take over their country.
The development of the Nazi oligarchy was almost exclusively a reflection of the decadent mind and machinations of Adolph Hitler. Cunning and deception served as a shield, masterfully covering his personal hatred and resentments which would, in time, codify into national policy. In Vienna, he had been influenced by the Mayor, Karl Lueger. His desire was to maintain a Catholic-German dominated monarchy. Anti- Semitism was central to this goal and Hitler was particularly intrigued by this strategy.
After the signing of the Armistice, Hitler began to analyze Germany’s defeat, and in his malevolent thought process, began to connect the defeat with covert plotting of Jewry. Well on his way to developing a hatred for Marxism as well, he then associated communists with Jews, something he called ‘the Jewish Doctrine of Marxism’. Much of the development of his rabid anti-Semitism was kept to himself. He became obsessed with the idea of an eternal struggle between two hostile forces. The ‘Aryan’ represented a wandering creative angelic force; ‘the Jew,’ a counter force he viewed as Satanic. The survival of the planet was hanging in the balance. In his paranoia he saw the Jews as being engaged in a conspiracy to achieve global domination. Reflecting on his earlier time in Vienna, he later would write:
“Vienna appeared to me in different light than before. Wherever I went, I began to see Jews, and the more I saw, the more sharply they became distinguished in my eyes from the rest of humanity. In a short time I was made more thoughtful than ever by my slowly rising insight into the type of activity carried on by the Jews in certain fields. Was there any form of filth or profligacy, particularly in cultural life, without at least one Jew involved in it? If you cut even cautiously into such an abscess, you found, like a maggot in a rotting body, often dazzled by the sudden light – a little Jew.”
Post war Munich was fertile soil for the nourishment of such perfidious ideas. An army political indoctrination course was a platform to develop his oratorical skills. Bavarian political life needed scrutiny and this became his first salaried job outside the military. He was attracted to one of the groups he was to monitor, and in September, 1919, he joined the German Worker’s Party (Deutsche Arbeiterpartic – DAP). By 1921, he had developed a significant influence with the membership. He was soon able to persuade the majority to abandon the committee-style leadership in favor of himself as ‘chairman.’ The DAP was also given a new name: The National Socialist German Worker’s Party (Nationalsozialistische Deutsche Arbeiterpartei – NSDAP). The final party name was an acronym for National and Sozialist – NAZI.
Hitler’s view of recent events was aggressively stressed at party meetings, namely that Germany’s defeat and economic problems were the result of international Jewry and Marxists. Most Germans were bitter about the Treaty of Versailles and angry with the resulting economic downturn. How quickly they had forgotten that they had supported the policies that had plunged their nation into a war of aggression. Now, just as quickly, they were buying into the deception about Jews and Marxists.
The new Nazi party quickly acquired a newspaper, then formed its own strong arm squad, the Storm Detachments or SA. By December 1923, the membership had grown to 55,000.
At year’s end, Hitler decided on a bold move and led an attempted coup in Munich. It failed and he and others were arrested and put on trial for treason. The trial and Hitler both drew national attention. He was convicted and given a five-year sentence of which he served only ten months. While in prison, he wrote most of Mein Kampf (my struggle), a narrative of his political awakening. The seeds of political hatred had been sown. Cultivation of those seeds would result in a cataclysm not experienced in the history of the world.