The Punishment and Reformation of the Germans On American War Aims, National Psychology, and Emil Ludwig The campaign against the Germans in the Second World War was ultimately stylized in the United States as a crusade for humanity and humaneness against barbarism. However, since the Germans had done nothing to America even remotely comparable to the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, anti-German propaganda was initially kept quite restrained. The Atlantic Charter had declared that the war was being waged for the sake of peace and justice, and large segments of society in the United States regarded the Treaty of Versailles as a cautionary example of a vindictive peace. As the war progressed, attitudes toward the Germans hardened. The demand for unconditional surrender at the Casablanca Conference in January 1943 seemed to rule out any possibility of an internal overthrow in Germany. This initially controversial demand became, by 1944–45 and with the onset of American postwar planning, tied to the notion of punishing, reeducating, and reforming the German people. Both concepts—pragmatic and fair treatment of the defeated on the one hand, and educational punishment on the other—entered planning groups and led to ambiguity and contradictory signals at key conferences and during the early phase of military government in Germany. Appalled by the pragmatism and leniency of the prior German policy, Treasury Secretary Henry Morgenthau interjected himself into the debate and presented, despite it being outside the scope of his responsibilities, the so-called Morgenthau Plan. Some government departments were convinced that the measures proposed by Morgenthau were not only irrational and unworkable, but that Germany should instead be seen as a future ally. In discussing these disagreements, one must not forget that during the war, a dramatic shift in American public opinion concerning the Germans had occurred: their national character was widely seen as a threat to world peace. Although the hysteria of the anti-German propaganda during World War I was absent, and reports about concentration camps played only a marginal role until May 1945, an enemy image was nevertheless constructed, with the so-called "Vansittartists" playing a significant role in its dissemination. The focal point of this enemy image was the disappointment over the failure of the Weimar Republic. The conclusion drawn: the Germans are incorrigible militarists who seek world domination and, after every defeat, only long for revenge. National Socialism was not seen as an aberration of German history, but rather its logical continuation. Based on such a persistent national character, a large number of books were written before and after 1945 about the Germans and what treatment would be appropriate for them—almost invariably as warnings; only occasionally were dissenting voices raised. Again and again, the argument was made that the Treaty of Versailles had not been too harsh, as previously believed, but rather too lenient; that the coming peace had to make it impossible for Germany ever to pose a threat to world peace again. One of the more interesting books of this school of thinking is Germany Will Try It Again by Sigrid Schultz. The author was born in America but raised in Germany, where she also received her education and attended university. Her father, of Norwegian—not German—origin, as she emphasized, had worked as a portrait painter for the highest circles in German society. From 1919 to 1941, Sigrid Schultz worked in Germany as a correspondent for the Chicago Tribune and as a radio commentator. She maintained excellent contacts in Germany, including with pacifists and independent leftists. In her 1944 book, she adopted their arguments: that despite their high culture, the Germans were incapable of controlling their world-threatening militarism. Schultz also offers a particular historical thesis: from the moment of his dismissal in 1918, Ludendorff began preparing for the next war; there had been a conspiracy among the military, industry, civil service, and certain intellectuals, working behind the weak façade of the Republic to bring about its downfall. This had been Ludendorff’s "peace strategy" after his war strategy had failed. In Schultz’s account, one finds features characteristic of Lord Vansittart himself and most of his followers: an initial reverence for German culture, sometimes even an enthusiasm for all things German; followed by deep disillusionment with "the Germans" and a fear of their uncanny energy and vitality. The center of concern remained the authoritative, unscrupulous, yet highly intelligent and competent militarism; the book contains no actual analysis of fascism. Whether the German national character arose from history or constitutes some sort of intrinsic condition, the Germans were said to be accustomed to authoritarian rule and incapable of governing themselves freely. Therefore, after the war, they had to be kept under control; Germany had to be partitioned, with Prussia—seen as the source of the problem—isolated if possible. Again and again, it was proposed that the rest of the Germans and the Austrians must be saved from the Prussians through the division of Germany. This resulted in the envisioned tripartition of the German Reich into Prussia, western and southern Germany, and Austria. The borders of Prussia, according to these ideas, lay considerably further east than those of the present GDR. It is likely not essential whether such theories and proposals fall under the label of Vansittartism or not. In any case, the discussion about Vansittartism should not be reduced to the fact that Vansittart equated Germans with Nazis and thereby adopted a National Socialist method in reverse. However, if the German people are assigned a national character and equated with National Socialism, the existence of a notable cultural heritage becomes paradoxical. The carriers of that culture would all have to be exceptions to the rule. Thus, in Vansittartism—and in related publications—the idea of Germany as a nation of culture is intertwined with the image of Germany as a sinister, world-threatening force in a profoundly contradictory way. Emil Ludwig articulates such contradictions exemplarily. He acquired Swiss citizenship even before World War I. He regularly pointed to this as proof of his neutrality, his distance and "objectivity" toward Germany—although one can hardly claim that he had severed all ties with Germany, let alone with his homeland of Prussia. After 1918, Ludwig shifted from writing plays and novels to biographies and commentary on his times. His biographical method was based on individual and social psychological interpretation of documents. He drew broad, often far- reaching conclusions from select quotations, which he commonly compiled from various sources. German historians began criticizing Ludwig early on, especially following the tremendous commercial success of his biographies, which appeared in quick succession. By around 1930, some referred to a "Ludwig case". Yet the attacks were not directed solely at his method, but also at his critical stance toward official Germany and the astonishing popularity of his books. Understandably, Ludwig harbored a deepening aversion toward German university professors from that time on. Ludwig drove the contrast between intellect and power in German history to the extreme. The English title of his book about German history is The Germans Double History. He measured the Germans by Goethe. His biographies of Wilhelm II and Hindenburg served to deconstruct and demystify them. Bismarck still received reluctant recognition. Ludwig believed in the significance of great men in shaping history. At times, he included Mussolini among them, also Stalin, but above all Roosevelt. The scandal in Germany stemmed not only from Ludwig’s critical biographies, but also from his journalistic work, such as his revelations about Germany’s secret rearmament. Ludwig fought against the militarism of the Prussian variety and wanted to make Germany a country of peace and culture. His dream of a Goethean Germany—where he himself would finally find his place—turned out to be highly illusory, and even before 1933, Ludwig was the target of hostile antisemitic attacks. Ludwig, who lived in the United States during World War II (not as an émigré in the formal sense, since he was a Swiss citizen), enjoyed widespread—though not universal—respect in American public life. He was consulted as a German expert and disseminated his analyses and proposals in various settings, including Congressional committee hearings. He later consolidated these views into two brief books: How to Treat the Germans (1943) and The Moral Conquest of Germany (1945). Both begin with a description of the German national character and proceed to practical suggestions for how the American military government should treat the German people. The decisive point, How to Treat the Germans emphasizes, is: "Know your enemy." Had Americans better understood the Germans in 1918, Hitler and the Second World War might have been avoided. The United States should also regard statements from German émigrés with skepticism. However well-meaning they might be, they were understandably concerned with securing a new role for themselves in postwar Germany. Ludwig, by contrast, saw himself—as a Swiss citizen—as disinterested and thus objective. Besides, he had voiced the same views publicly even prior to 1933. Ludwig’s image of the typical German is this: he is unbalanced, discontented, incapable of laughter, pursuing power and never quite finding what he seeks. In his insecurity, he constantly tries to impress others; the result is the characteristic German duality of arrogance and servility. Above all, Ludwig states: "From ancient times the Teutons were a military race, and so they were easily trained into efficient soldiers, strong and obedient." Social relations were structured vertically rather than horizontally; German society resembled a pyramid. Mistrust dominated hierarchical relationships. A spirit of obedience and an identification with authority prevailed. After the rigors of service, the German withdrew into Gemütlichkeit and dreams, and among these anesthetic dreams was music. Women had never played a public role in society. Ludwig particularly lamented the sharp split between power and intellect. According to Ludwig, the two extreme German archetypes are the Prussian and the Austrian. Prussia stood for dominance and militarism but had never produced a great man. Great men came from the south and west of Germany, from Saxony or the Hanseatic free cities. The only great spirit from Prussia, Heinrich von Kleist, had an extremely negative attitude toward his homeland. Ludwig rejected the notion that the Treaty of Versailles had caused German revanchism and led to Hitler. A peace treaty modeled on the ideas of Clemenceau, he argued, could have prevented a new war—in other words, the Treaty of Versailles had been too lenient. Americans had especially believed in the efficacy of the Weimar Constitution and the promise of democratic development in Germany. However: “The Weimar Republic in Germany was based upon the principles of freedom and humanity, and the Germans found that exceedingly dull. They had never exercised responsibility and, therefore, were afraid of it.” Ludwig’s prime example, of course, was the election of Hindenburg as Reich President. The Germans must be held fully accountable for National Socialism, he insisted. They had chosen Hitler of their own free will. But they should not be demonized as a nation of sadists: “An individual might be ‘sadistic’, like Hitler or Hangman Heydrich, but no nation is sadistic. These men are moved by a perverted idealism: the religion of violence.” Still, it was a mistake to expect the Germans to bring the guilty to justice after the war was lost. They had not done so after 1918 either. This failure, Ludwig argued, had to do with their lack of any concept of fairness. Even the word itself was supposedly lacking in the German language. Since there were no genuine democrats in Germany who could be relied upon for reconstruction —or almost none—and since even the emigrants were unsuitable for such tasks, an Allied control had to be exercised. What would happen in Germany after the war? Naturally, Germany could become communist— a possibility contemplated by other authors as well—but that would lead to an Allied war against the Soviet Union, something Ludwig considered impractical and thus dismissed. Instead, he expected a joint occupation and administration of Germany. This joint Allied government would have to punish the guilty both individually and collectively. Germans would be required to rebuild what they had destroyed in other countries. Those Germans who had resisted the regime should be identified and called upon to help administer the country. The prerequisite for any positive development, he argued, would be the division of Germany: “The destructive element in Germany comes from Prussia, and all the culture and constructive elements come from Germany’s south and west. Therefore Germany should be partitioned, not into thirty pieces, but into two.” Austria could then decide for itself whether it wanted to be part of this federal, non-Prussian Germany. In terms of re-education and treatment of the German nation, Ludwig repeated one critical piece of advice: the Germans should not be approached with respect. They were unaccustomed to it and could not understand it. They were used to power and subjugation. The military government should be just, but stern and not freedom-loving—at least not at first. Liberalism would be interpreted by the Germans merely as weakness, just as it had been after 1918. Only he who acts like a victor would be respected. Germans should not be permitted to travel abroad for at least five years; they must remain isolated for the time being. However, the Allies ought to show respect for Germany's great culture—particularly its music. Whereas Ludwig had essentially given up on the adult generation, recommending strict control and authoritarian rule, he proposed a different path for the children: they should be educated toward freedom and liberal values. Of course, Germany's universities would require thorough reform, with completely different professors. In terms of music, Ludwig offered a peculiar piece of advice: performances of Wagner’s Ring should be banned for the next fifty years. This may seem like a colorful mixture of practical and utopian ideas—yet it was a mixture based on a theory. Ludwig characterized German society as authoritarian and took it as a given that the Germans would start the next war as soon as they were able. It is reasonable to suspect that Ludwig's particularly intense antipathy toward Prussia was fueled by personal motives and bitter disappointment. The contradictions in Ludwig’s analysis and his proposals become clear where he attempts to outline a transition from authoritarianism to democracy. For if he identified the German national character as already present in Tacitus’ time, how could he expect a short- term re-education to bring about change? How could a new generation embrace democratic thinking if their parents remained authoritarian? And who, then, would be the educators of this young generation? These were pressing and vital questions at the time. Still, without the Enlightenment-inspired belief in humankind’s capacity for growth and learning, no reeducation in Germany would have made sense at all. From the book The Moral Conquest of Germany, which expounds these ideas more fully, two points should be drawn out. In the section Jews and Germans, Ludwig traces Germany’s virulent antisemitism to a national lack of fairness. In England, Ludwig says, even an antisemite would still play by the rules of fair play. In Germany, by contrast, only the right of the strongest prevailed. The tragedy of Germany’s Jews, Ludwig argued, resulted from a far-reaching similarity of character between Jews and Germans, along with the patriotic loyalty German Jews had vested in their country. Ludwig reminded the Allies in their efforts to reeducate the Germans: “A nation which for a century or more has been brought up in the worship of power cannot be subjugated by soft methods. Only by meeting the Germans as masters can the Allies hope to influence their minds and bring about necessary changes.” The German belief in being a “master race” must be eradicated, and their guilt made conscious to them. Ludwig attempted once more to sketch out a process of education that involved punishment, prohibitions, controls, and restrictions, but also included training in personal responsibility, tolerance, and liberalism. If the younger generation were placed under such restrictions and required to help rebuild what their fathers had destroyed in enemy lands, they would inevitably begin to ask questions: “They will begin to wonder how they could find a more comfortable way of life, or travel in foreign lands. Then these young men and women must be informed that both self-government and moral equality with other nations will be restored to Germany once they themselves have rebuilt the continent their fathers wantonly destroyed.” The spoils of victory must not be wasted again; a moral lesson was needed, one that would lead to a shift in the German mentality. Ludwig ultimately did believe in the transformability of the German national character—the eventual end of a probationary period and Germany’s full return to the family of nations as a country of peace. He did, however, want the Saar and the Ruhr to be internationalized and Prussia separated from the rest of Germany. But he envisioned a shared currency, customs union, and postal service between the two German states. His hope was that Prussia could be "Westernized"—that the German spirit could, with the help of partition, overcome German militarism. To clarify Ludwig’s position among the Vansittartists and other proponents of a hard peace—it would be misleading to characterize him as an outsider merely because of his exile—it is useful to consider two other authors to whom Ludwig himself frequently referred: Louis Nizer and Leopold Schwarzschild. In Louis Nizer’s 1944 book What to Do with Germany, the idea of the aggressive German national character is developed even more sharply than in Ludwig’s writing. The Treaty of Versailles, Nizer wrote, had not been harsh enough; too much trust had been placed in the Germans. One should have been more cautious: “The Germans have developed a philosophy which makes a religion of war and a cult of mass murder. They consider it their mission to subjugate all other peoples to slavery. They exclude the doctrines of the sacredness of human life and liberty and substitute for it the ideal of war. The unique phenomenon of Germanism is that its conspiracy against world peace is not merely gangsterism or nihilism. It is an intellectual movement, if you please.” Into this German conspiracy against world peace Nizer folded in Charlemagne, Barbarossa, the Hanseatic League, the Great Elector, and Frederick II of Prussia. Consequently, Nizer’s punishment program showed far less personal investment and hopeful undertone than Ludwig’s. Leopold Schwarzschild’s Primer of the Coming World, also published in 1944, strove above all for objectivity and practicality. Like the others, his concern was “freedom from fear of Germany.” Schwarzschild proposed total demilitarization of Germany and Allied troop occupation for the next fifty to sixty years. Unlike almost all other authors, however, Schwarzschild aimed to minimize the victor's role in governing Germany. He found mechanisms such as partition, economic throttling, and even re-education unnecessary or unworkable. The Allies, he argued, should grant the Germans self-governance as soon as possible: “We can agree that the purging of the German spirit can be expected to take place as a result of the new conditions of power. Organized re-education by the victors is impossible and undesirable.” The political foundation for the proposals of Schwarzschild, Nizer, and Ludwig was the unity of the victors of the Second World War and their joint administration and supervision of Germany. Although the possibility of conflict between the United States and the USSR was taken into consideration, it was rejected as unlikely based on numerous arguments. That said, Schwarzschild's pragmatism proved to be closer to what would ultimately happen. Considering Ludwig’s philosophical premises—his belief in the permanence of a national character, and his disappointment with Germany and the Germans since 1918—his optimism that the Germans could be educated in the foreseeable future must be seen as bold. Ludwig’s image of Germany placed him between the poles of exile thinking: between the proponents of national character psychology, who regarded the Germans as inherently dangerous and advocated their permanent restraint through division, and those who believed in a differentiated understanding of Germany as a nation capable of transformation and reunited self-governance. Ultimately, Ludwig revealed himself as an idealist who believed—or at least hoped—that the continuity of German culture, Germany’s existence as a nation of culture, would lead to the emergence of a political nation, in fundamentally altered form: cleansed of Prussian aggression, shaped by cultural and moral ideals associated with Goethe. The analysis of the Germans and the proposals for their treatment after the war became, as these examples show, a battlefield not only of competing political viewpoints but also of scientific, quasi-scientific, ideological, and mythical ideas. These notions have repeatedly resurfaced in regard to Germany or other nations whenever political passions have flared up. Emil Ludwig, who saw himself as a liberal Enlightenment thinker, helped solidify many of these prejudices in the United States with his contributions to the debate about Germany—even though he may have intended differently.