Coming to terms with evil

We Scots have had a special relationship with Europe – the North Sea, for example, gave us special access to Russia and Poland in medieval times. Our architects left their marks in Tsarist Russia – and our traders established a quarter in Gdansk which was still active recently. And the Protestant faith was also a factor which created links with (North) Germany.
My father was one of a few Scottish pastors who developed a “Reconciliation” mission in the post-war period there – focussing on Detmold, Heiligenkirchen and Bad Meinberg areas in Nord-Rhein Westphalia. He took us with him on at least one trip there in the mid 1950s and it is to this I owe my (mainland)  European orientation and (in all probability) the direction my life has taken - particularly in the past 20 years in central Europe and Central Asia.
One of my fond family memories is my father wading through the various parts of the weekend Die Zeit newspaper - printed on special thin but glossy paper - which was flown over to him. Not surprisingly I excelled at German and French at school - and started out on a language degree at University (which I changed half-way through to an Economics and Politics one)

In 1961 I ventured to a Polish student work-camp – via Berlin – and will never forget the sight from the train of a still-bombed out Wroclaw. The next year I spent some weeks at a summer school at Gottingen University – where I was introduced to the post-war stories of Heinrich Boell.

In 1964 I spent 2 months living and working in Berlin (thanks to AISEC) where I encountered for the first time the fervour of an old Nazi – the mother of my girlfriend of the time.

For these various reasons, I have had a particular fascination with the issue of how the Germans have tried to come to terms with the terrifying social transformation of the Nazi period. One of my treasured possessions during a 1980s visit was a collection of letters written by ordinary Germans trying to make sense of what was going on around them in the early and mid 1930s.
After an initial period of silence, it appeared that by the 1980s the schools were making a good job of helping the new generation face us to their past.

German historian Moritz Pfeiffer asked his granddad what he did in World War II, and then fact-checked the testimony. His findings in a new book shed light on a dying generation that remains outwardly unrepentant, but is increasingly willing to break decades of silence on how, and why, it followed Hitler -

Germany has won praise for collectively confronting its Nazi past, but the subject has remained a taboo in millions of family homes -- with children and grandchildren declining to press their elders on what they did in the war. At least 20 to 25 million Germans knew about the Holocaust while it was happening, according to conservative estimates, and some 10 million fought on the Eastern Front in a war of annihilation that targeted civilians from the start. That, says German historian Moritz Pfeiffer, makes the genocide and the crimes against humanity a part of family history.

Time is running out. The answer to how a cultured, civilized nation stooped so low lies in the minds of the dying Third Reich generation, many of whom are ready and willing to talk at the end of their lives, says Pfeiffer, 29, who has just completed an unprecedented research project based on his own family.
"The situation has changed radically compared with the decades immediately after the war," Pfeiffer, a historian at a museum on the SS at Wewelsburg Castle, told SPIEGEL ONLINE. "The generation of eyewitnesses evidently wants to talk now, at least that's my impression. Towards the end of one's life the distance to the events is so great that people are ready to give testimony."
"Immediately after the war, conversations about it between parents and children appear to have been impossible because it was all too fresh," Pfeiffer continued. "Now the problem is that no one is listening to that generation anymore. As a source of information, one's relatives are largely being ignored. But one day it will be too late."

New Approach to Questioning Relatives
Oral history has become increasingly popular, even though personal reminiscences are chronically unreliable as they are distorted by time. But Pfeiffer took a new approach by interviewing his two maternal grandparents about what they did in the war, and then systematically checking their statements using contemporary sources such as letters and army records.
No one has done this before.
He juxtaposed his findings with context from up-to-date historical research on the period and wrote a book that has shed new light on the generation that unquestioningly followed Hitler, failed to own up to its guilt in the immediate aftermath of the war and, more than six decades on, remains unable to express personal remorse for the civilian casualties of Hitler's war of aggression, let alone for the Holocaust.

His recently published book, "My Grandfather in the War 1939-1945," (published in German only) is based on the interviews he conducted in 2005 with his grandfather, named only as Hans Hermann K., who was a career officer in a Wehrmacht infantry regiment. His grandmother Edith was too ill to be interviewed at length but he analyzed many of her letters. Both died in 2006. Both of them supported the Nazi regime and Pfeiffer admits that they were morally "contaminated," like millions of ordinary Germans of that generation. He describes his grandmother Edith as a "committed, almost fanatical Nazi."

'No One Can Say What They Would Have Done'
But the project wasn't an attempt to pass judgment on his grandparents, says Pfeiffer. He only wanted to understand them. "No one today can say what they would have done or thought at the time," he said. "I believe that people will learn a lot if they understand how their respected and loved parents or grandparents behaved in the face of a totalitarian dictatorship and murderous racial ideology," Pfeiffer said. "Dealing with one's family history in the Nazi period in an open, factual and self-critical way is an important contribution to accepting democracy and avoiding a repeat of what happened between 1933 and 1945."
Hans Hermann K. was so good at goosestepping that he was briefly transferred to a parade unit in Berlin. Edith joined the Nazi Party and was so zealous that when she married Hans Hermann in 1943, she provided documentation tracing her Aryan roots all the way back to the early 18th century -- even SS members were "only" required to verify their racial purity back to January 1, 1800.
During the course of his research, Moritz Pfeiffer found large gaps, contradictions and evasive answers in Hans Hermann's testimony -- regarding his purported ignorance of mass executions of civilians, for example.

Grandfather Fought in France, Poland, Soviet Union
Hans Hermann was a lieutenant in the famous 6th Army and fought in the invasions of Poland, France and the Soviet Union, where he lost an eye in September 1942 when a shell exploded near him. His wound probaby saved his life. Shortly after he was evacuated back to Germany for treatment, his unit was sent to Stalingrad and virtually wiped out. Only 6,000 men survived out of the more than 100,000 that were taken prisoner by the Red Army at Stalingrad.

Few would disagree that Germany as a nation has worked hard to atone for its past, unlike Austria and Japan which have cloaked themselves in denial. Germany has paid an estimated €70 billion in compensation for the suffering it caused, conducts solemn ceremonies to commemorate the victims and, above all, has owned up to what was done in its name.
Companies and government ministries have opened up their archives to historians to illuminate their role in the Third Reich, and a late push in prosecutions of war criminals is underway to make up for the failure to bring them to justice in the decades after the war.

But millions never confronted their own personal role as cogs in the Nazi machinery.
Hans Hermann was no different, even though he readily agreed to talk to his grandson.
He was born in 1921 to an arch-conservative, nationalist family with military traditions in the western city of Wuppertal. His father, a furniture store owner, regaled him with stories about his time as a lieutenant in World War I, and it was instilled in him at an early age that the war reparations of the Versailles Treaty were exaggerated. The store boomed after Hitler took power because the new government provided cheap government loans for married couples to buy kitchen and bedroom furniture.

In the interview, Hans Hermann was frank about his attitude towards Jews in the mid-1930s, when he was in his early teens and a member of the Jungvolk youth organization, which was affiliated with the Hitler Youth. Asked by Moritz whether he thought at the time that the racial laws banning Jews from public life and systematically expropriating their property were unfair, he said: "No, we didn't regard that as injustice, we had to go with the times and the times were like that. The media didn't have the importance then that they do today."

Part 2: 'We Had to Keep Our Mouths Shut'
But Hans Hermann didn't join the Nazi party, and said in 2005 that he opposed the Reichskristallnacht, the Nov. 9, 1938 pogrom organized by the Nazi regime in which thousands of Jewish stores and synagogues were attacked and burned. "That wasn't right. We were angry about the violence and the fire in the synagogue, that wasn't our thing," he said. "That was the SA, that was the SS, we rejected that … But we couldn't do anything, we had to keep our mouths shut."
Asked about the invasion of Poland and the executions of civilians, Hans Hermann was evasive, at first describing relations between the German army and Poles as "friendly" and saying he knew nothing about mass shootings of Polish civilians at the time.
When pressed by Moritz, however, he admitted he knew about killings being committed by the SS, but added that the Wehrmacht had nothing to do with it -- a typical attitude that reflected the long-held myth that regular German soldiers weren't involved in atrocities.

Pfeiffer said he found his grandfather's indifference to the suffering of the Polish population, 6 million of whom died in the war, "staggering" but, again, typical of the response of many Germans of his generation.
In 1941, Hans Hermann took part in Operation Barbarossa, the invasion of the Soviet Union. He was in the Infantry Regiment 208 of the 79th Infantry Division, and he said he knew nothing about criminal orders such as the German army's infamous "Commissar Order" -- that all Soviet political commissars detected among the captured must be killed.

'Hardly Believable'
Asked about the Commissar Order, Hans Hermann said: "I didn't hear anything about that, don't know it. We were behind the combat troops who were the ones taking prisoners."
Pfeiffer refuted the claim that his grandfather's unit took no prisoners. He found the war diary of the 79th Infantry Division which records that 5,088 Russian soldiers were captured between August 5 and August 31 alone. Between September 20 and 25, a further 24,000 were taken prisoner.
Even the ones who weren't shot dead on the spot had a slim chance of survival. More than 3 million of the 5.7 million Red Army soldiers captured by German forces in World War II died, a proportion of almost 60 percent.
Pfeiffer said his grandfather as a front line officer and company commander would have been subject to the order to weed out the political commissars from among captured Red Army soldiers and have them shot. The historian said he couldn't ascertain whether his grandfather ever had to take such a decision. But historical evidence exists that the 79th Infantry division carried out the order.
Also, historians have proven that the 6th Army, which Hans Hermann's division was part of, carried out war crimes and massacres, and assisted in the murder of 33,771 Jews in the ravine of Babi Yar in Ukraine at the end of September 1941.
Pfeiffer said it was "hardly believable" that his grandfather didn't know anything about the mass killings. Hans Hermann also said: "The Bolshevists were our enemies, that was clear and we had to be guided by that. But those who greeted us with salt and bread on their doorstep, they couldn't be enemies, we treated them well." He didn't say what happened to civilians who didn't greet the troops with salt and bread.


'Spellbound by the Words of the Führer'
Pfeiffer's book also presents letters written by his grandmother Edith that showed her ardent support for Hitler. On Nov. 8, 1943, she wrote to her husband after hearing Hitler speak: "I am still totally spellbound by the words of the Führer that were stirring and inspiring as ever! I glow with enthusiasm … One feels strong enough to tear out trees."
In his interview, Hans Hermann expressed criticism of the Allied bombings of German cities. "How could that be possible, against the civilian population!" He made no mention of German bombing attacks on Rotterdam and Coventry in 1940.

He was taken prisoner by American forces in Metz, France, in October 1944 and didn't see his wife again until March 1946.
Pfeiffer concluded that his grandfather wasn't lying outright in his interviews, but merely doing what millions of Germans had done after the war -- engaging in denial, playing down their role to lessen their responsibility.
It led to the convenient myth in the immediate aftermath of the war that the entire nation had been duped by a small clique of criminals who bore sole responsibility for the Holocaust -- and that ordinary Germans had themselves been victims.

Germany has long since jettisoned that fallacy. But Pfeiffer admits that his book didn't answer a key question about his loving, kind grandparents who were pillars of his family for decades.
"Why did the humanity of my grandparents not rebel against the mass murders and why didn't my grandfather, even in his interview in 2005, concede guilt or shame or express any sympathy for the victims?"

'Moral Insanity'
When asked whether he felt that he shared any of the collective guilt for the Holocaust, Hans Hermann said: "No. That is no guilt collectively. No group is levelling this collective guilt, it's differentiated today, in historical research as well. The individual guilt of people and groups is being researched."
Pfeiffer writes that his grandparents were infected by the same "moral insanity" that afflicted many Germans during and after World War I: "A state of emotional coldness, a lack of self-criticism and absolute egotism combined with a strong deficit of moral judgment as well as the support, acceptance and justification of cruelty when the enemy was affected by it."
Those are damning words. Pfeiffer said his grandparents' generation probably had no choice but to suppress their guilt in order to keep on functioning in the hard post-war years when all their energy was focused on rebuilding their livelihoods. "It was a necessary human reaction," said Pfeiffer.

The Vergangenheitsbewältigung -- the confrontation with the past -- got a much-needed push with the 1968 student protests. For many, the atonement didn't come fast enough. German author Ralph Giordano referred to the "Second Guilt" in a book he wrote in 1987 -- the reluctance to own up to the crimes, and the ability of Nazi perpetrators to prosper in postwar West Germany.

Pfeiffer hopes his book will encourage other children and grandchildren of eyewitnesses to follow suit. "I think conversations like the ones I carried out will bring relatives together rather than drive a wedge between them," he said.
Pfeiffer's original intention had been just to write a family history for personal use. After he interviewed his grandfather, he edited the transcript and presented it to the family at Christmas in 2005.

'Non-Verbal Admissions of Guilt'
But he had noticed omissions in his grandfather's testimony and had asked him to submit to a second, more rigorous interview in summer 2006. Hans Hermann agreed. Unfortunately, Moritz never got the chance to conduct it. Edith died in June that year after a long illness. Overcome by grief, Hans Hermann died six weeks later.

Asked how he thinks his grandfather would have reacted to his book, Pfeiffer said: "I think he would have initially been shocked about the unsparing presentation of his life story and wouldn't exactly have been delighted at my critical comments and conclusions. "But I think he would have spent a long time examining it and would acknowledge the factual analysis and the fact that I wasn't trying to discredit him or settle any scores."

Pfeiffer sees a big difference between what the dying generation is able to articulate and what it is actually feeling. He detected what he called "non-verbal admissions of guilt" in his grandfather's behavior. After the war, Hans Hermann encouraged his daughter to learn French and hosted French pupils on exchange programs. He also supported the European integration policy of Konrad Adenauer and Charles de Gaulle, and avoided going to veterans' reunions.

In 2005, he was outraged at first by a research report Pfeiffer co-wrote at the University of Freiburg about the involvement of the Wehrmacht in war crimes. A few weeks later, however, he told his grandson: "I have thought a lot about it -- and there's some truth to it."

Moritz Pfeiffer: "Mein Großvater im Krieg 1939-1945. Erinnerung und Fakten im Vergleich". Donat-Verlag, Bremen 2012, 216 Seiten

remembrance

Today was my father's birthday - he would have been 102 - the same age my mum reached! My
October 16th posting - "fathers" - was about him. I honour once again his memory - what he gave me and what he stood for. He would have appreciated this picture - boats, church and foreign places....

fathers

my father - a painting commissioned from Yuliana Sotirova (who worked only from a black and white photo!)

We are all shaped by our upbringing – family; neighbourhood; and education. My father was a Presbyterian Minister (in a Scottish shipbuilding town) whom I would like to have known better. Last year I found myself discussing the possible establishment of a series of lectures (better perhaps “conversations”) which would celebrate my father’s passions and values. These can be tentatively but not adequately expressed in such words as understanding.. tolerance.. sharing.... service....exploration.... reconciliation.... and also, in pastimes, such as "boats, books, bees and bens".

The discussion involved me drafting the following thoughts - partly in an effort to clarify why I felt my father's memory deserved "resurrection"; partly because I was aware that he represented a world we have lost and should celebrate. And partly, I realise, because I was trying to find out what being Scottish now means to me. Scotland's Minister of Justice suggested - in his defence of his recent, controversial release of the so-called Lockerbie bomber - that there distinctive Scottish values....

Memorials are normally for famous people – but the point about my father is that he had no affectations or ambitions (at least that I knew about!) and was simply “well ken’t” and loved in several distinct communities. It was enough for him to serve one community (Mount Pleasant Church in Greenock for 50 years) and to use his time on earth to try to open up - to a range of very different types of individuals - the richness of other fields of knowledge. So he tutored in ancient languages and history – he was a prison chaplain – he was chairman of Greenock’s McLellan Gallery and Philosophical Society – latterly he was a lecturer on a British circuit about his travels (which included an expedition to Greenland in his sixties!). In all of this, of course, he was quietly supported by my mother - about whom I will write separately.

His well-known passions for books and travel were expressions of his passion for the world. His service as an independent (“moderate”) councillor (and Baillie) on Greenock Town Council equally showed his lack of dogma and his openness. When, in my late teens, I became both an atheist and socialist (offending some of our West-end neighbours) I felt only his quiet pride that I was, in my own way, searching for myself and, in different ways, living up to his values[1].

1. Serving the community – love and professionalism
My father was much respected by people – the support and service he offered to his those in trouble; his modesty; the quiet way he wore his learning. Like many other similar people he received little official recognition. Strathclyde Region’s first Convener, Geoff Shaw, was also a Church of Scotland Minister who struck a chord with so many people in the mid-1970s – coming into politics late from a "community-based" ministry - but then died so tragically early. Just as appreciated – but behind the scenes - was the old miner (Dick Stewart) who actually led the Region politically for its first decade.

They were perhaps the last generation which made Scotland what it is. The last 25 years have celebrated a different – more ambitious and greedy – global ethic.
I noticed a wonderful piece in Scottish Review in 2008 - by Kenneth Roy - about how people like the radical Rev George McLeod influenced the shop steward Jimmy Reid who led the Clyde shipyard sit-ins in the 1970s. We need more of these intellectual vignettes.

The importance of such role models has, of course, been rediscovered recently – and integrated into government strategies. And the importance of communities and service has been stressed incessantly by government agencies for 30 years in Scotland – but perhaps government is now too dominant and impatient a partner?

Like other sons (and daughters) of Scottish Presbyterian Ministers, I threw myself into politics – but this took an unconventional route as my mission was to try to reform what I saw as a centralised system which denied a voice to many people. Community development was the name of the game for me.
I continued my belief in social engineering in the new career I developed from 1990 as an EU adviser to central European and Asian governments as they tried to restructure their systems of government. Very much moving on the periphery - a balancing skill I learned at my parent's West-end house as I cultivated the East end!

There is a lot of talk about the cynicism with politics and politicians – Robert Michels[2] warned more than a hundred years ago of the dangers of professionalization[3]. Perhaps, however, some of the fault lies in the arrogance embodied in the ideology behind the social sciences which came of age as I did in the late 1960s and underpinned the claims not only of the new financial system but of the new public management which was forged here in Britain and has been so assiduously marketed abroad.
Scotland served in the 1990s as an important example to other European countries about community regeneration; its new parliament took up the theme of social inclusion which some of us started 30 years ago; and Strathclyde University is the centre, for example, of a very important network which shares information and best practice relating to the massive EU Structural Funds.
But what does this all really mean for the hopes and dreams of the people a parish Minister or priest deals with? The language in which the business of government (and think tanks) is conducted excludes many people. And there can be no communities without shared language – one of Greenock’s most neglected figures[4] was very eloquent about this. And much policy discussion is conducted without reference to lessons from previous periods or places.
There’s an issue struggling to get out here – I can’t quite define it – “How to act when we are aware of the counter-productivity of good intentions?” “How inject dose of humility into political and administrative class?” “Evil in government[5]?” Various figures – such as Bob Holman and Alaister McIntosh[6] – might be invited to contribute to such a debate.

2. Reconciliation and understanding
My father was one of the first Scottish Ministers in the late 1940s to establish contact with a German Presbytery (Heiligenkirchen; Detmold; Bad Meinberg) and to organise mutual exchanges. The network this created continued until my mother’s death in 2005.
Now such European exchanges are two-a-penny, institutionalised and achieve exactly what? Their equivalents these days would be exchanges with mosques in Bosnia, Iran, Indonesia, Pakistan and Uzbekistan – who’s game?

One of Scotland’s self-acknowledged weaknesses is reflected in the “Wha’s like us!” cry. Of course, we refer with pride to the “Auld Alliance”[7] and the links we established with the European Commission in the 80s as signs that we are better Europeans than our southern neighbours; and a Scottish Parliament and Executive is able to give Scotland a more official range of international contacts. But perhaps they are being used for too selfish and immediate ends? Of course Scotland has become home to various refugee groups – and their support and integration is taken very seriously by statutory and voluntary agencies. But, as a society, have we really embraced and learned from them?

My father was a passionate (and single) traveller – almost in the mould of Patrick Leigh Fermor – certainly in his travels (with camera and in kilt) in the hinterlands of Greece in the 1970s - when he had to update his biblical Greek!. Austria was also a favourite haunt – although more sedately with my mother. Not content with the voyage itself, he wanted to pass on the experience to others and arouse their interest in “others”. And so he photographed – and became active in a national lecture circuit. He passed these passions to me – and was, for example, indirectly, responsible for me being there on the wrong side of East Germany as the Soviet tanks sped to support the building of the Berlin wall in August 1963. And the passion for travel and photography have been passed, in turn, to my daughter Hilary.

The 1990s opened up Central Europe to me – what a shame he was no longer there to share the discoveries with me. I was very taken to discover the role which a Scotsman - Robert Seton-Watson - had played in the early part of the 20th century in creating the 2 countries of Slovakia and Romania which have become particuarly dear to me. My father would also have been fascinated with my seven years in Uzbekistan, Azerbaijan and Kyrgyzstan – where the Scottish track is not so easy to find. But the UK Ambassador in Tashkent (Craig Murray) was driven to his confrontation with the Foreign Office by Scottish values – and people and songs in poor and mountainous Kyrgyzstan have such strong similarities with Scotland!
But how can travel give such meaning in these very different globalised and ecological times? What can Scotland contribute?

3. Bees, bens and boats
Coming to Greenock (from Kilcreggan and Helensburgh) just before the outbreak of the second World War, it is hardly surprising that my father developed a passion for boats – and, during the war, served on the small naval boats which patrolled the River Clyde and Scotland's west coast. Apparently my birth was announced to him on one of these patrols. And one of my first holiday memories is a small boat he had hired (“The Elspeth”) to take us to places like Tighnabruaich! And the motor-boat which was our life-line for 4 glorious summers in the early 50s between Calve Island in Tobermory Bay and the shops. Colonsay was another site for memorable childhood holidays. Another memory is his tending his bees at the bottom of the manse garden.
My father was not only a keen hill-walker but knew and climbed with some of the early writers about Scottish Mountaineering – such as Bennie Humble. Needless to say, he never had a car.
Now we have writers and books such as Robert McFarlane’s “Mountains of the Mind” which rediscover the meanings behind such passions.

4. Mapping, collecting and sharing-
And of course the McLellan Gallery which my father chaired for how many years! This marking his passion to share the beauty and richness of the world. I noticed the books then – more than the paintings. Now I can appreciate both. I remember a shop in Venice in the early 1980s – which had been making paper for 6 centuries. I stumbled in 1989 on a small print shop in Berlin with a poem celebrating bookmaking (in the non-Greenock sense). To him I owe the love I have developed for visiting European art galleries – particularly the less-well known of Germany and Belgium. Recent examples are encounters in remote Slovak and Bulgarian villages with custodians of amazing collections of paintings – eg Moymirovce and Smolyan – who have no resources for their preservation let alone websites. And the incredible, unknown Uzbek art (bought up now undoubtedly by Moscow (snake) oil tycoons. How does a rich society like Scotland support such work?

5. Fathers
Why do we take so long to appreciate our fathers? When he was alive I found it difficult to communicate with him at any other than a superficial level. That was my fault.

Possible contributors
Apart from those mentioned above, I think of someone like Neil Ascherson who wrote initially about Poland (and tracked the rise and victory of Solidarity). Who knows about the 16th century Scottish community of Gdansk? Ascherson then extended his musings to the fascinating area of the Black Sea (including the influence of the Greeks) and wrote latterly about "The Stones of Scotland".
Christopher Harvie’s contribution as a commentator on Scotland’s history - with his 20 years at Tubingen University and now in the Scottish Assembly.

[1] I will never forget his quiet welcome when I returned home one evening in the early 1960s with Pat Arrowsmith in tow – then one of the most prominent (and female!) practitioner of non-violent demonstrations against the H-bomb.
[2] The Iron Law of Oligarchy
[3] And JP Saul’s Voltaire’s Bastards on the evil of technocracy
[4] The poet WS Graham
[5] Robert Fisk’s The Great War for Civilisation is the key reference for this
[6] http://www.alaistermcintosh.com/
[7] Which Scotland had in 17th and 18th centuries with England’s enemy - France