Introduction - Ben Barkow, General Editor & Director of the Wiener Library, London.
Prisons,
ghettos, camps: Jews in captivity under the Third Reich
Dr Nikolaus Wachsmann, Birkbeck College, University of London
The Origins of the Holocaust
Professor
Dan Stone
Royal Holloway College, University of London
The Israeli
historian Dan Michman argues that there are two sets of questions that need to
be asked in order to conceptualise and explain the Holocaust historically. The
first set concerns ‘basic problems’: was the Holocaust an event in itself or
part of a broader set of events? What is the characterising essence that
distinguishes the Holocaust from other events, including those of which it was
a part? What was the Holocaust’s time period? These questions will be dealt
with elsewhere. The second set of questions identified by Michman are those
that we will focus on here: where are the ‘roots’ of the Holocaust to be found?
And: ‘What were the exact historical circumstances that made it possible?'[1] Michman correctly notes that
the second set of questions can only properly be answered after the first has
been satisfied; thus, although there is not space here to go into these issues
in more detail, it makes sense to define the Holocaust as: ‘the
ideologically-driven state-sponsored attempt to annihilate the Jews and Gypsies
of Europe in the years 1941-1945.’ Although this definition can of course be
questioned, it suffices here to make the focus on the second set of questions
more meaningful.
It is important
to note that Michman does not ask outright: what are the origins of the
Holocaust? Rather he wants to discover the ‘exact historical circumstances’
that made the Holocaust possible. This reminds us that the historian’s quest
for establishing causation is always difficult. In the case of an event like
the Holocaust – which has to be defined by the historian before s/he can
explain it – it is perhaps impossible, or at least permanently under revision.
We should bear in mind here Hannah Arendt’s claim that because the historian
deals with contingency and a future that is always open, the notion of
causation is in fact inimical to historical explanation. This is because the
ascription of causation imposes a kind of determinism on events that is the
opposite of the essence of historical freedom: ‘Belief in causality, in other
words, is the historian’s way of denying human freedom which, in terms of the
political and historical sciences, is the human capacity for making a new
beginning.'[2]
This is why Arendt, in her major work The Origins of Totalitarianism
(1951) explicitly eschewed any notion of causality in the strict sense and
wrote instead of tracing ‘elements’ that ‘crystallised’ to bring about the
event or outcome (‘totalitarianism’) in question. The phenomenon did not exist
‘in essence’ or in an inchoate form before it appeared, and thus there can be
no question of describing a ‘gradual revelation’ of something that then appears
inevitable. [3]
It is this method of tracing discrete elements that have come together in an
unexpected combination that will be followed here, as we look for the ‘origins’
of the Holocaust.
Historians have
sought the origins of the Holocaust in many short-term and long-term factors.
Longer-term factors include the unification of Germany and the putative
development of Nazism out of Prussianism; the dislocations caused by rapid
modernization in Germany that rebounded on the Jews as the supposed bearers of
‘modernity’; the lack of democratic traditions in Germany and a longstanding
antisemitic tradition; the impact of the Great
War; the
Bolshevik Revolution in
Russia and the rise of Communism; and,
especially, the impact of the harsh terms of the
Versailles
Treaty, the legend that Germany was ‘stabbed in the back’ by Jewish and
Communist traitors, the
Spartacist uprising
in 1918, and the economic chaos and lack of legitimacy of the
Weimar Republic. Short-term factors include
the logic of Nazism and Hitler’s obsessions; the circumstances in which the
Nazis found themselves in 1941-1942 as the war started to turn against them;
the ‘cumulative radicalisation’ of Nazi
policies, especially under wartime conditions; the internal competition
for power between institutions and agencies within the Third Reich and its
expanding empire; the inability of the occupying forces in eastern Europe to
feed the Wehrmacht as well as the
local population; and the Nazis’ race-thinking and mystical, millenarian
antisemitism that saw the world in terms of a cosmic struggle between the
‘Aryan race’ and the ‘non-Aryan races’, especially the Jews, the
Weltfeind (world enemy). [4]
Historians have
long debated the details of the decision-making process for the ‘final solution’, and have recreated in
remarkable detail a day-by-day account. [5]
This provides us with much knowledge of what happened when, but does not always
explain the preconditions and presupposed ideational frameworks within which
those involved – whether at the centre of power, like Himmler and Heydrich, or
at the periphery like the Sonderkommando
leaders or the military occupiers – operated. It is for this reason that I will
here focus on two necessary conditions for the development of the ‘final
solution’: race-thinking and antisemitism. Whether from the ‘intentionalist’ or
‘structuralist’ side of the best-known debate in Holocaust historiography, most
historians now share the views that the road to Auschwitz was twisted, that is,
that there was no blueprint for the ‘final solution’ before 1941, but that the
process of cumulative radicalisation that led to genocide can only be
understood in the context of Nazi ideology. Although there was no plan as such
to kill the Jews of Europe before 1941 at the earliest, the logic of Nazism and
the fantasy that fuelled it was genocidal from the start.
There is an
enormous literature on the development of race-thinking, much of it (especially
in the early post-war years) motivated by a teleological concern with
explaining Nazism. It should be clear from the outset that there is no necessary
line running from Buffon, Linnaeus and Blumenbach, the eighteenth-century
founders of modern physical anthropology, to Fischer,
Verschuer and Mengele, the best known of the Nazi anthropologists. Indeed,
when one examines German anthropologists of the late nineteenth century, they
appear rather liberal in their views about ‘race’ in comparison with their
British or American counterparts. Yet attempting to explain the Holocaust
without reference to race-thinking seems absurd. The Nazis were obsessed with
race and the Third Reich has been aptly dubbed ‘the
racial state’.[6]
The aim of the
Nazis was to create a Volksgemeinschaft, a ‘people’s community’ from which racial
aliens (Artfremden) were to be
excluded. The Nuremberg Laws of 1935 and
the Euthanasia programme from 1939
onwards most clearly encapsulate this twofold drive for racial purity within
the ‘Aryan race’ and for preventing pollution from other, supposedly dangerous
‘races’, especially Jews. To this end, racial research institutes were quickly
established such as the Institute for Research
on the Jewish Question or the SS Race
and Resettlement Main Office, and other, existing centres were rapidly
Nazified, such as the Kaiser Wilhelm Institute
for Anthropology, Human Heredity and Eugenics (KWIA). Many
anthropologists brought themselves into line with Nazi ideology, a process that
few found trying given their pre-existing theories about racial hierarchies and
racial difference, even if few were ardent Nazis. Eugenics, euthanasia, and the
selection of ‘racially-valuable’ children from eastern Europe for bringing up
in Germany all became standard fare. In general, an obsession with racial
‘fitness’ within the Reich and the eradication or disabling of other ‘races’,
whether Jews, Roma, or Slavs, became the two poles of Nazi racial policy. And
racial policy was inseparable from all aspects of domestic and foreign policy,
whether the ‘Aryanisation’ of Jewish-owned
businesses or the search for Lebensraum.
Some scholars
claim that anthropologists were responsible first for theorising and then for
driving forward the Nazi ambition of attaining racial homogeneity.[7] They point especially to the
roles of men like Mengele, who combined a career as an anthropologist with his
position as SS doctor in Auschwitz. But it is clear that the Nazis tolerated
more than they were inspired by the anthropologists and race-theorists.[8] And although there are clear
lines of continuity – in ideas, technology, and personnel – between the
Euthanasia Programme and Operation Reinhard
(the extermination of the Jews of Poland in the death camps of Chełmno, Sobibór,
Bełżec and Treblinka), so that the murder of the Jews
needs to be seen as part of a broader Nazi plan for the demographic reshaping
of Europe, this does not mean that the Holocaust should be seen in a
straightforward way as an outcome of race-thinking. The Third Reich was not the
only country to have an influential eugenics movement or in which race-thinking
played a prominent role – race-thinking was part of the general makeup of
society in Britain, the US, and many other countries across the world from
China to Latin America in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries –
but it was the only one which committed genocide justified on racial grounds.
What this means is that we need an
additional explanation. There is no doubting the significance of race-thinking
and anthropology in Nazi Germany, which was certainly one of the elements that
came together to create the Holocaust. But Nazism as an ideology did not rely
on science for its world view, just as Nazism in practice did not need
scientists to carry out its dirty work, though it did not refuse their willing
assistance. Hitler came to his antisemitic outlook in the post-Great War
atmosphere of Vienna, still infused by the Jew-hatred of earlier antisemitic
politicians such as Georg von Schönerer
and Karl Lueger, and he and other early
Nazis were inspired less by race-scientists than by racial mystics, such as Paul de Lagarde, Julius
Langbehn, Arthur de Gobineau, and
Houston Stewart Chamberlain. Nazi
ideologists such as Alfred Rosenberg, Hans F.
K. Günther, Ernst Krieck, Alfred Bäumler or Walter Gross argued for
Aryan racial purity on the grounds that this would bring about a homogenisation
and hence revivification of a community that had become degenerate and
decadent. And they violently attacked the Jews as the main source of this
degeneration.[9]
The
‘common-sense’ view of the Holocaust is that since the Nazis killed Jews they
must have been motivated by antisemitism; it is often surprising to lay-persons
that so many academic historians think otherwise. It must be admitted from the
outset, however, that only a small number of Nazis – not to speak of the German
population as a whole – were radical antisemites who really believed in a
Jewish world conspiracy. Rosenberg’s magnum opus, The Myth of the Twentieth Century, was read even less than Mein
Kampf. Yet a radical, mystical antisemitism did come to structure and to
provide the background for much of Nazi policy, in all spheres of activity,
from theoretical physics to the fashion industry, as well as ‘Judenpolitik’
(Jewish policy) in the strict sense. Whether at school level (Reels 24 and 25) or for the
general public (Reels 18-20),
antisemitism lay at the heart of the Third Reich. Thus, although the ‘slide’
into genocide has to be examined as a day-to-day process that is reconstructed
by historians in great detail, when thinking about the trends that existed in
Germany – and in Europe, for the Holocaust was a European project – one needs
to bear in mind that the short-term decision-making process only makes sense
when situated in a chronologically-longer and ideologically-broader context.
Notes