A New Nationalist Europe Under Hitler: Concepts Of Europe And Transnational Networks In The National Socialist Sphere Of Influence, 1933–1945 1138078956, 9781138078956, 1351627716, 9781351627719

Table of contents :
Cover......Page 1
Title......Page 4
Copyright......Page 5
Dedication......Page 6
Contents......Page 8
List of Contributors......Page 11
Acknowledgements......Page 15
Abbreviations......Page 16
Introduction......Page 20
Part I Concepts of Europe......Page 44
1 “Volksgruppen Rights” versus “Minorities Protections”: the evolution of German and Austrian political order paradigms from the 1920s to 1945......Page 46
2 Speaking Nazi-European: the semantic and conceptual formation of the National Socialist “New Europe”......Page 62
3 From Greater German Reich to Greater Germanic Reich: Arthur Seyss-Inquart and the racial reshaping of Europe......Page 76
4 Nazi plans for a new European order and European responses......Page 90
5 Hispanidad in the völkisch “New Order” of Europe (1933–1945)......Page 112
6 Portugal, Salazar, and the Nazi “New Order” in Europe......Page 131
Part II Science, academia, and culture......Page 152
7 Controlling agriculture in Greece (1935–1944): land exploitation, peasant mobilization, and big science......Page 154
8 “Population pressure” and development models for Southeastern Europe: interactions between German and Southeastern European economists, 1930–1945......Page 171
9 Educating the “intellectual army” of the “New Europe”? Foreign students and academic exchange in Nazi Germany......Page 195
10 Film Axis and film Europe: German-Japanese and German-Italian cooperation in the film industry from 1933 to 1945......Page 208
11 Building a New Europe on the back of “German” science: völkisch ideologies and imperialistic visions at the Academy of Sciences in Vienna......Page 224
Part III Economy......Page 242
12 Völkisch ideology within the Central European Economic Conference (Mitteleuropäischer Wirtschaftstag)......Page 244
13 When ends become means: post-war planning and the exigencies of war in the discussion about a new economic order in Europe (1939–1945)......Page 256
Part IV Raumordnung and racism......Page 276
14 “The Anti-Semite Internationale”: the exporting of anti-Jewish scholarship and propaganda by the Third Reich......Page 278
15 Heralds of a “new order”: Mussolini, Hitler, and the purging of Europe......Page 290
Index......Page 312

Citation preview

A New Nationalist Europe Under Hitler

Nazis, fascists and völkisch conservatives in different European countries not only cooperated internationally in the fields of culture, science, economy, and persecution of Jews, but also developed ideas for a racist and ethno-nationalist Europe under Hitler. The present volume attempts to combine an analysis of Nazi Germany’s transnational relations with an evaluation of the discourse that accompanied these relations. Johannes Dafinger is Assistant Professor for Contemporary History at the Alpen-Adria-Universität Klagenfurt, Austria. Dieter Pohl is Professor for Contemporary History at the Alpen-Adria-Universität Klagenfurt, Austria.

Routledge Studies in Second World War History

The Second World War remains today the most seismic political event of the past hundred years, an unimaginable upheaval that impacted upon every country on earth and is fully ingrained in the consciousness of the world’s citizens. Traditional narratives of the conflict are entrenched to such a degree that new research takes on an ever important role in helping us make sense of World War II. Aiming to bring to light the results of new archival research and exploring notions of memory, propaganda, genocide, empire and culture, Routledge Studies in Second World War History sheds new light on the events and legacy of global war. Recent titles in this series A New Nationalist Europe Under Hitler Concepts of Europe and Transnational Networks in the National Socialist Sphere of Influence, 1933–1945 Edited by Johannes Dafinger and Dieter Pohl The Swedish Jews and the Holocaust Pontus Rudberg

A New Nationalist Europe Under Hitler

Concepts of Europe and Transnational Networks in the National Socialist Sphere of Influence, 1933–1945 Edited by Johannes Dafinger and Dieter Pohl

First published 2019 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 711 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10017 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2019 selection and editorial matter, Johannes Dafinger and Dieter Pohl; individual chapters, the contributors The right of Johannes Dafinger and Dieter Pohl to be identified as the authors of the editorial material, and of the authors for their individual chapters, has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Dafinger, Johannes, editor. | Pohl, Dieter, editor. Title: A new nationalist Europe under Hitler : concepts of Europe and transnational networks in the National Socialist sphere of influence, 1933–1945 / edited by Johannes Dafinger and Dieter Pohl. Description: Abingdon, Oxon ; New York, NY : Routledge, 2019. | Series: Routledge studies in Second World War history | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2018007938 | ISBN 9781138078956 (hardback : alk. paper) | ISBN 9781315114446 (e-book) Subjects: LCSH: National socialism—Europe. | Germany—Relations— Europe. | Europe—Relations—Germany. | World War, 1939-1945— Social aspects—Europe. Classification: LCC D726.5 .N49 2019 | DDC 320.53/309409043—dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018007938 ISBN: 978-1-138-07895-6 (hbk) ISBN: 978-1-315-11444-6 (ebk) Typeset in Times New Roman by Apex CoVantage, LLC

The book was published with the support of the Faculty of Humanities at the Alpen-Adria-Universität Klagenfurt.

Contents

List of Contributorsx Acknowledgementsxiv Abbreviationsxv Introduction

1

JOHANNES DAFINGER AND DIETER POHL

PART I

Concepts of Europe

25

 1 “Volksgruppen Rights” versus “Minorities Protections”: the evolution of German and Austrian political order paradigms from the 1920s to 1945

27

ULRICH PREHN

  2 Speaking Nazi-European: the semantic and conceptual formation of the National Socialist “New Europe”

43

JOHANNES DAFINGER

  3 From Greater German Reich to Greater Germanic Reich: Arthur Seyss-Inquart and the racial reshaping of Europe

57

JOHANNES KOLL

  4 Nazi plans for a new European order and European responses

71

TIM KIRK

  5 Hispanidad in the völkisch “New Order” of Europe (1933–1945)

93

MARICIÓ JANUÉ I MIRET

  6 Portugal, Salazar, and the Nazi “New Order” in Europe CLÁUDIA NINHOS

112

viii  Contents PART II

Science, academia, and culture

133

  7 Controlling agriculture in Greece (1935–1944): land exploitation, peasant mobilization, and big science

135

MARIA ZARIFI

  8 “Population pressure” and development models for Southeastern Europe: interactions between German and Southeastern European economists, 1930–1945

152

IAN INNERHOFER

  9 Educating the “intellectual army” of the “New Europe”? Foreign students and academic exchange in Nazi Germany

176

HOLGER IMPEKOVEN

10 Film Axis and film Europe: German-Japanese and German-Italian cooperation in the film industry from 1933 to 1945

189

SILVIA HOFHEINZ

11 Building a New Europe on the back of “German” science: völkisch ideologies and imperialistic visions at the Academy of Sciences in Vienna

205

FELICITAS SEEBACHER

PART III

Economy

223

12 Völkisch ideology within the Central European Economic Conference (Mitteleuropäischer Wirtschaftstag)

225

MARKUS WIEN

13 When ends become means: post-war planning and the exigencies of war in the discussion about a new economic order in Europe (1939–1945) RAIMUND BAUER

237

Contents ix PART IV

Raumordnung and racism

257

14 “The Anti-Semite Internationale”: the exporting of anti-Jewish scholarship and propaganda by the Third Reich

259

DIRK RUPNOW

15 Heralds of a “new order”: Mussolini, Hitler, and the purging of Europe

271

PATRICK BERNHARD

Index

293

Contributors

Raimund Bauer received his M.A. in Economic and Social History, Modern History, and Political Science from the University of Mannheim. In 2011, he joined the Department of Politics, History, and International Relations of Loughborough University and received his Ph.D. in History with a thesis on the National Socialist New Order. His research interests and his publications focus on how ideas, politics, and economics intersect in the modern history of Germany and Europe. Patrick Bernhard is an Associate Professor at the University of Oslo. He completed his M.A. and his Ph.D. in Munich, and has since lectured or held fellowships at the Université de Montréal, the Freiburg Institute for Advances Studies, the German Historical Institute in Rome, the Istituto Storico ItaloGermanico in Trento, at Trinity College Dublin, at University College Dublin, and at the Center for Advanced Holocaust Studies at USHMM in Washington, D.C. He has published on a broad range of topics, including European fascism and colonialism, war, genocide and peace movements, and Cold War cultures. His publications include “Hitler’s Africa in the east: Italian colonialism as a model for German planning in Eastern Europe,” Journal of Contemporary History 51 (2016): 61–90. Johannes Dafinger studied Contemporary History, Eastern and Southeastern European History, and International Law at LMU Munich and at the European University at St. Petersburg. He received his M.A. from LMU Munich in 2010 and his Ph.D. from the University of Klagenfurt in 2017. From 2011 to 2016, and again since 2017, he has worked as a University Assistant for Contemporary History at the University of Klagenfurt. He has been a Research Scholar, Research Fellow, and Visiting Scholar at the University of Maryland, College Park and at the Leibniz Institute of European History in Mainz. Selected publications include, “Show Solidarity, Live Solitarily: the Nazi ‘New Europe’ as a ‘Family of Peoples’,” in European Review of History/Revue européenne d’ Histoire 24, no. 6 (2017), 905–917; and Wissenschaft im außenpolitischen Kalkül des “Dritten Reiches” (2014). Silvia Hofheinz studied Medieval and Modern History and Musicology at Heidelberg University. Since 2010 she has been a Ph.D. student at Heidelberg

Contributors xi University, where she is studying how Nazi Germany and Fascist Italy used film as a tool of cultural diplomacy. Since 2011 she has also been a staff member of the Deutsches Musikautomaten Museum in Bruchsal. Holger Impekoven studied German Literature and History at the University of Bonn and at Oriel College at Oxford. He worked as a Research Assistant at Bonn’s History Department in 1999/2000. In 2002, he joined the university’s international office and became its Associate Director in 2009. Since May 2011 he has been Head of the Office for Research. While working for the university administration, Holger continued his research on the history of international student exchange and the role of the Humboldt Foundation in Nazi Germany. He was Assistant Lecturer in the History Department from 2006 to 2008, and received his Ph.D. from the University of Bonn in 2011. He is the author of Die Alexander von Humboldt-Stiftung und das Ausländerstudium in Deutschland 1925–1945: Von der “geräuschlosen Propaganda” zur Ausbildung der “geistigen Wehr” des “Neuen Europa” (2013). Ian Innerhofer studied Political Science and Slavonic Studies in Salzburg, Sarajevo, and Belgrade. He finished his Ph.D. studies in Contemporary History at the University of Vienna. A revised version of his thesis on the international discourse surrounding the “agricultural overpopulation” of Southeastern Europe before and during the Second World War will soon be published. Since 2012 he has been a lecturer at Constantine the Philosopher University in Nitra, Slovakia. Marició Janué i Miret is Senior Lecturer in the Department of Humanities at Pompeu Fabra University in Barcelona. She is member of the research group “Nexus Between Science, Culture, Politics, Religion and Society,” as well as a Principal Investigator on the research project “Science, Culture, and Nation in Spain from the 1898 ‘Disaster’ to the End of Franco Dictatorship.” In 2013–2016, she was director of the Jaume Vicens i Vives University Institute of History. She has been a researcher at various university centers and research institutes in Germany, Italy, and Spain. Selected publications include España y Alemania: Nuevas investigaciones sobre la historia de las relaciones culturales en el siglo XX (Ayer 69 (Dossier), 2008) (co-author and publisher); and “The role of culture in German-Spanish relations during National-Socialism,” in Nazi Germany and Southern Europe, 1933–45: Science, Culture and Politics, edited by Fernando Clara and Cláudia Ninhos (2016). Tim Kirk is Professor of European History at Newcastle University. He is the author of Nazism and the Working Class in Austria (1996) and Nazi Germany (2007), and has co-edited several collections of essays, including Opposing Fascism (1999) and Working Towards the Führer (2003). He is currently working on a history of the Nazi New Order in Europe. Johannes Koll holds the position of Senior Scientist at the Institute for Economic and Social History at the Vienna University of Economics and Business. He received his M.A. (1992) and his Ph.D. (1999) from the University

xii  Contributors of Cologne and completed his postdoctoral qualification (Habilitation) at the University of Vienna (2013). He has been a Researcher and Lecturer at the University of Münster (2000–2005), a Visiting Professor at the University of Vienna (2005–2007), and a postdoc at the Vienna University of Economics and Business (2007–2014). Since 2015 he has headed a provenance research project at the Vienna University of Economics and Business. He is also Head of University Archives. Selected publications include Arthur Seyß-Inquart und die deutsche Besatzungspolitik in den Niederlanden (1940–1945) (2015); and “Säuberungen” an österreichischen Hochschulen 1934–1945: Voraussetzungen, Prozesse, Folgen (editor, 2017). Cláudia Ninhos is a Research Fellow in the Faculty of Social Sciences and Humanities at the NOVA University of Lisbon, where she was awarded her Ph.D. in History. Her work deals with Portuguese cultural and scientific relations during the National Socialist period and the Holocaust. She co-authored the book Salazar, Portugal and the Holocaust (2013) and co-edited the volume Nazi Germany and Southern Europe, 1933–1945 (2016). Dieter Pohl studied History and Political Science at LMU Munich. After graduating with an M.A. in 1990, he received his doctorate in 1995 and his Habilitation in 2007. From 1995 to August 2010 he was a Research Assistant at the Munich Institute for Contemporary History (Institut für Zeitgeschichte, IfZ), and later became an IfZ Department Head. Since September 2010 Dieter Pohl has been a Professor of Contemporary History with a special emphasis on Eastern and Southeastern Europe at the University of Klagenfurt. His research interests include the history of the Soviet Union, the National Socialist occupation regime, the Second World War in Europe and Asia, the impact of war, the history of Communist systems after 1945, mass violence in the twentieth century, and the contemporary history of Poland and Ukraine. Ulrich Prehn is the coordinator of a research project entitled “Photography under National Socialism: Everyday Imagery of Community Bonding and Social Exclusion, 1933–1945” at Berlin’s Humboldt University. He received his M.A. and Ph.D. in History from Hamburg University. He is the author of Max Hildebert Boehm: Radikales Ordnungsdenken von Ersten Weltkrieg bis in die Bundesrepublik (2013). He is currently working on a book about photographic images of the working world in Germany from the 1920s to 1945. Dirk Rupnow is Professor of Contemporary History and Head of the Institute for Contemporary History at the University of Innsbruck, where he is also the founding coordinator of the Migration & Globalization Research Center. He received his M.A. in 1999 (from the University of Vienna), Ph.D. in 2002 (from the University of Klagenfurt), and Habilitation in 2009 (from the University of Vienna). He has completed numerous research stays and fellowships in Austria, Germany, France, Israel, and the United States, and in 2009 was awarded the Fraenkel Prize in Contemporary History of the Wiener Library, London. His main research interests are twentieth-century European history,

Contributors xiii the Holocaust and Jewish Studies, cultures and politics of memory, and intellectual and migration history. Selected publications include Judenforschung im Dritten Reich. Wissenschaft zwischen Politik, Propaganda und Ideologie (2011); and Pseudowissenschaft. Konzeptionen von Nichtwissenschaftlichkeit in der Wissenschaftsgeschichte (co-editor, 2008). Felicitas Seebacher is a member of the Austrian Academy of Sciences’ Commission for the History of Science and the Humanities. She is also member of the European Society for the History of Science, and served as member of its scientific board from 2012 to 2016. Her fields of research include the history of medicine, the history of academic institutions, the history of academic antiSemitism, and gender studies. Markus Wien has been a Professor of European History at American University in Bulgaria since 2005. He received his M.A. from LMU Munich in 1999 with a thesis on anti-Semitic legislation in Bulgaria during the Second World War and his Ph.D. from the European University Institute in Florence. His Ph.D. thesis was published under the title Markt und Modernisierung: Deutschbulgarische Wirtschaftsbeziehungen 1918–1944 in ihren konzeptionellen Grundlagen (2007). His current book project deals with the Bulgarian Jews as a national minority, and spans the period from 1878 to 1950. Maria Zarifi is a Senior Lecturer of History and the Philosophy of Science at the Hellenic Open University in Greece. She has lectured at the University of Athens, the University of Thessaly in Greece, and the University of Regensburg in Germany. She has been a Research Fellow at FRIAS in Freiburg, the Institute for East and Southeast European Studies (IOS) in Regensburg, and the Heidelberg Centre for Transcultural Studies. Her research interests include science and imperialism, science and nationalism, medicine and public health, and modernity. She has published in peer-reviewed collected volumes and journals, and is the author of Science, Culture and Politics: Germany’s Cultural Policy and Scientific Relations with Greece 1933–1945 (2010).

Acknowledgements

As editors, we wish to thank all colleagues who have worked with us on this book for the fruitful and pleasant cooperation. The chapters published in this book were first presented and discussed during a conference at the Alpen-Adria-Universität Klagenfurt in July 2013. We are much obliged to all participants in the conference. Furthermore, we are indebted to Manuela Bernhardt and Julia Spitaler for helping to organize the conference and to Florian Kerschbaumer for chairing one panel. We want to especially thank our proofreaders. Lucais Sewell not only corrected errors, but also improved the style of literally every sentence of this book. Alexandra Pulvermacher checked, corrected, and harmonized the references with utmost caution and accuracy. At Routledge, Robert Langham has energetically supported this project together with his team since we first approached him with the book proposal, and we are very grateful to him and his colleagues. Last but not least we would like to express our sincere gratitude to the authors of the chapters of this book who put more time and energy into this project than we could reasonably have wished for. The book was published with the support of the Faculty of Humanities at the Alpen-Adria-Universität Klagenfurt. The conference was funded by the Dr. Manfred Gehring Privatstiftung and by the Future Fund of the Republic of Austria.

Abbreviations

AA

Auswärtiges Amt (German Foreign Office/Ministry of Foreign Affairs) ACS Archivio Centrale dello Stato (Central State Archive), Rome AMPG Archiv der Max-Planck-Gesellschaft (Archive of the Max Planck Society), Berlin AOeAW Archiv der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften (Archive of the Austrian Academy of Sciences), Vienna AOeGZ Archiv der Österreichischen Gesellschaft für Zeitgeschichte (Archives of the Austrian Society for Contemporary History), Vienna ASMAE Archivio Storico del Ministero degli Affari Esteri (Historical Archive of the Italian Foreign Ministry), Rome BArch Abt. MA Freiburg Bundesarchiv, Abteilung Militärarchiv Freiburg (Federal Archives, Department Military Archives Freiburg) BArch Berlin Bundesarchiv Berlin (Federal Archives Berlin) BArch Koblenz Bundesarchiv Koblenz (Federal Archives Koblenz) BayHStA Bayerisches Hauptstaatsarchiv (Bavarian Main State Archives), Munich CA California ca. circa CAUR Comitati d’Azione per l’Universalità di Roma CDJC Centre de Documentation Juive Contemporaine (Center of Contemporary Jewish Documentation), Paris cf. compare/see by the way of comparison CSIC Centro Superior de Investigaciones Científicas (Center for Advanced Scientific Research), Madrid D.C. District of Columbia DAAD Deutscher Akademischer Austauschdienst (German Academic Exchange Service)

xvi  Abbreviations DEGRIGES DFG DGARQ diss. DJG e.g. ed. eds. et al. et seqq. FEK FNAT fol. HStAM i.e. ibid. idem IEP IFK IfZ

IOS ISG Frankfurt am Main J.O.N.S. LMU Munich LP LTI LUCE M.A./MA MA

Deutsch-griechische Warenausgleichsgesellschaft Deutsche Forschungsgemeinschaft (German Research Society) Direcção-Geral de Arquivos (Directorate-General of Archives), Lisboa dissertation Deutsch-Japanische Gesellschaft (German-Japanese Society) for example (exempli gratia) editor/edited by/edition editors and others (et alii) and the following ones (et sequentia) Εφημερίς της Κυβερνήσεως της Ελλάδος (Official Gazette of the Greek Government) Fundação Nacional para a Alegria no Trabalho (National Foundation for Joy at Work) folio Hessisches Staatsarchiv (Hessian State Archives), Marburg that is (to say) (id est) in the same place (same publication) the same (author) Instituto de Estudios Políticos (Institute of Political Studies) Internationale Filmkammer (International Film Chamber) Institut für Zeitgeschichte (Institute of Contemporary History), Munich/Archiv des Instituts für Zeitgeschiche (Archives of the Institute of Contemporary History), Munich Leibniz-Institut für Ost- und Südosteuropaforschung (Institute for East and Southeast European Studies), Regensburg Institut für Stadtgeschichte Frankfurt am Main (Institute for the History of Frankfurt), Frankfurt am Main Juntas de Ofensiva Nacionalsindicalistas (NationalSyndicalist Committees of Attack) Ludwig-Maximilians-Universität München Legião Portuguesa (Portuguese Legion) Lingua Tertii Imperii (language of the Third Reich) L’Unione Cinematografica Educativa Magister artium/Master Massachusetts

Abbreviations xvii MD MP MWT n. n.d. n.p. NA NDH NE NIOD NJ no. NSB NSDAP OeStA OKW PA AA Ph.D./PhD PVDE RFK RFR RKFDV RKK RMVP RSHA s.a. s.l. s.n. s.v.

Maryland Mocidade Portuguesa (Youth Legion) Mitteleuropäischer Wirtschaftstag (Central European Economic Conference) note/endnote no date no place/no page Národní archiv (National Archives), Prague Nezavisna Država Hrvatska (Independent State of Croatia) Nebraska Instituut voor Oorlogs-, Holocaust- en Genocidestudies (Institute for War, Holocaust, and Genocide Studies), Amsterdam New Jersey number Nationaal-Socialistische Beweging Nationalsozialistische Deutsche Arbeiterpartei (National Socialist German Workers’ Party, German Nazi Party) Österreichisches Staatsarchiv – Archiv der Republik (Austrian State Archives – Archives of the Republic), Vienna Oberkommando der Wehrmacht (High Command of the German Army) Politisches Archiv des Auswärtigen Amts (Political Archive of the Federal Foreign Office), Berlin Doctor of Philosophy (Philosophiae doctor) Polícia de Vigilância e Defesa do Estado (Surveillance and State Defense Police) Reichsfilmkammer (Reich Film Chamber) Reichsforschungsrat (German Research Council) Reichskommissar für die Festigung deutschen Volkstums (Reich Commissioner for the Consolidation of German Nationhood) Reichskulturkammer (Reich Chamber of Culture) Reichsministerium für Volksaufklärung und Propaganda (Reich Ministry of Public Enlightenment and Propaganda) Reichssicherheitshauptamt (Reich Security Main Office) without a year (sine annum) without a place (sine loco) without name (of publisher) (sine nomine) under the word (sub verbo)

xviii  Abbreviations SD SOEG SOkA Olomouc SS TNA UAI UFA UN USHMM VNV vol. vols. WBR WWI YV Archives

Sicherheitsdienst des Reichsführers-SS (Security Service of the SS) Südosteuropa-Gesellschaft (Southeast Europe Society) Státní okresní archiv (State District Archive), Olomouc Schutzstaffel The National Archives, Kew/London Union Académique Internationale Universum-Film Aktiengesellschaft União Nacional (National Union) United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, Washington D.C./Archives of the United States Holocaust Memoral Museum, Washington D.C. Vlaams Nationaal Verbond volume volumes Wienbibliothek im Rathaus, Handschriftensammlung (Vienna library in the City Hall, collection of autographs), Vienna World War I Yad Vashem Archives, Jerusalem

Introduction Johannes Dafinger and Dieter Pohl

Between 14 and 18 September  1942, delegates from fourteen nations met in Vienna’s Nazi “Gauhaus,” the former Austrian parliament, for a Youth Congress that sought to lay the foundation for a European Youth Federation (Europäischer Jugendverband). While the congress was underway, German Propaganda Minister Joseph Goebbels “engaged in a strong polemic against the idle talk concerning a ‘New Europe.’ ”1 Vienna seemed to him “like a remake of the [1848] Frankfurt Congress, except that back then it was men with beards that had met while this time it was the [Hitler] youth (Pimpfe) that were indulging in useless tattle.”2 The minister’s skepticism concerning the initiative launched by the heads of the Hitler Youth, Baldur von Schirach and Artur Axmann, however, was not shared by all members of the Propaganda Ministry. The Reich Press Office, working under the authority of the Propaganda Ministry, informed the editors of German magazines that the topic “should be taken up by as many magazines as possible,” because it had “special political significance and topical relevance.”3 These articles were to express the idea “that the European Youth Federation represents the association of the best and most constructive forces among the European youth of today, who are working and fighting for a new Europe.”4 In the eyes of the participants and organizers of the Vienna congress, what form was such a “New Europe” under Hitler to take? In his own speech, Baldur von Schirach described Europe as a “bundle of national forces” (Strahlenbündel nationaler Kräfte) that was opposed to any “pan-European endeavors.”5 He also saw Europe as a “community of destiny” on account of its common enemies, the Soviet Union, the United States, and Great Britain.6 Furthermore, Schirach excluded Jews from his vision of Europe. “Every Jew who operates in Europe,” he stated, “is a danger to European culture.” To the loud applause of his audience, he congratulated himself on having deported “tens of thousands of Jews” from Vienna “to the ghetto of the East.” This had been “an active contribution to European culture.”7 The chapters collected in the present volume are based on talks given at a conference at the Alpen-Adria-Universität Klagenfurt in July  2013. They explore what “Europe” meant to a range of groups and individuals within the National Socialist sphere of influence and how a new nationalist Europe began to become a reality in the fields of science, academia, culture, economics, and racial policy.

2  Johannes Dafinger and Dieter Pohl “The National Socialist sphere of influence” is not only understood here as the space under the military control of Nazi Germany. Instead, it also refers to a cognitive sphere of discourse between National Socialists, fascists, and conservatives of an ethnonationalist disposition who agreed on the basic principles of this new European order. Besides those based in Germany, many of the participants in this discourse were located in East-Central and Southeastern Europe (i.e., in countries that moved politically to the right in the 1930s). In Western Europe, this discourse was limited to sections of highly polarized societies. This polarization can best be observed in Spain during the Spanish Civil War. Italy constitutes a special case here since, until Germany reached a position of absolute hegemony at the turn of 1940/1941, Mussolini and his followers developed their own fascist plans for the continent, which conflicted with those of the Nazis.

The current state of research For a long time, historians interpreted Europe under German domination as obeying a top-down model of rule. In general, this was based on the observation of three patterns: In attempting to overcome the economic crisis of the 1930s, Nazi Germany sought to increase its economic influence, particularly in Southeastern Europe. This region was considered both as providing an agrarian basis for the German Reich and as a field of competition with British foreign economic interests. Following the Anschluss of Austria in 1938 in particular, Nazi Germany became the main export market for Southeastern Europe, and especially for Bulgaria and Yugoslavia. This was a result of the German practice of Großraumwirtschaft, which led to a certain degree of political dependency on Germany. Some historians even spoke of a German “Informal Empire” in Southeastern Europe.8 This economic integration policy was accompanied by Hitler’s diplomatic pact-building strategy. The origins of the later “Axis” lay both in Germany’s search for allies and Japan’s and Italy’s attempt to secure their expansionist policies. Although the development of the Axis followed a rather convoluted path, it culminated in the Tripartite Pact of 1940, a strategic propaganda move against the Western Powers. While Japan continued to act in almost complete independence from Germany, Italy became more and more dependent on Hitler from late 1940 onward. German hegemony was even greater in those states which benefitted from the German-Italian arbitration agreements, the Vienna Arbitrations of 1938–1940, such as Hungary and Bulgaria, and of course in the new states created by Germany and Italy: Slovakia in 1939 and Croatia in 1941. For a long time, historians regarded the latter in particular as “satellites” or even “puppet regimes.” More recent studies, however, have stressed that these states were able to pursue their own agendas, at times even independently of German policies.9 The third and most important element here is Germany’s direct rule in occupied Europe from 1938, when the Sudetenland was annexed, until 1944–1945, when it even invaded its Axis partners Hungary and Slovakia. The impact of German  – and until 1943 Italian  – occupation varied in different regions. In

Introduction  3 general, Poland and the occupied regions of the Soviet Union were completely subdued; parts of the population, especially Jews, were murdered, and national policies and cultures were completely demolished. Even under German occupation and with restricted autonomy, however, conservative and fascist models of education and culture were able to endure, though nationalism could not be fully expressed. Collaborationist governments such as the more conservative ethnonationalist regime in Vichy France and the national administrations in Belgium, the Netherlands, Serbia, and Greece enjoyed limited autonomy, especially in areas that were not considered important by the occupiers. Only rarely did radical fascist forces come to power, as with the Ustasha in Croatia in 1941, the Nasjonal Samling in Norway in 1942, and the Arrow Cross in Hungary in late 1944.10 From a traditional perspective, then, Hitler’s Europe was a top-down structure in which the Germans gave orders and others obeyed. More recent approaches, however, have demonstrated that international and transnational relations within Hitler’s Europe were far more complex: They were not only influenced by German actors, but also by non-Germans, and – more importantly – not only by state actors, but also by non-state actors. They cannot be reduced to bilateral (or even intergovernmental) relations; they rather form international or transnational actor networks. Nor were they limited to the spheres of diplomacy, war, and economics: There were also numerous and often close relations within the cultural sphere. In recent decades, increasing attention has been paid to this complexity, and not without good reason. This renewed attentiveness was stimulated by the broader use of new theoretical approaches in the field, in line with a general shift from “diplomatic history” to “international history” in recent historical studies.11 This change of terms first of all indicates a dissatisfaction with the discipline’s traditional focus on state politics. Historians no longer reduce international relations to diplomatic relations, nor politics to the politics of a state and its organs. They see non-state actors – including both social groups and individuals – as important protagonists in the world of international relations and insist on analyzing their discourses, actions, and interactions with one another, along with those of state actors.12 To be sure, this is not to say that state agencies were or became irrelevant to the course of international relations during the era covered by the present volume.13 In the fields of academia and culture treated in the chapters that follow, the state became a powerful player around the turn of the twentieth century. This was an era in which governments – following the French example – were trying to transform cultural prestige into national prestige and thus began to elaborate a cultural diplomacy (auswärtige Kulturpolitik) to this end.14 There were nevertheless other important players alongside governments and state administrations. Artists and scholars who maintained contact with colleagues in other countries pursued their own policies. Furthermore, intermediary agencies were established to mediate between individuals and the state and between actors in different countries. In Germany, the most important of these intermediary agencies were the Deutsche Akademie (the forerunner of today’s Goethe Institut),15 the Auslandsvereine,16 the Alexander von Humboldt-Stiftung, the Deutscher Akademischer Austauschdienst (DAAD),17 and, during the Second World War, the German Cultural Institutes

4  Johannes Dafinger and Dieter Pohl (Deutsche Wissenschaftliche Institute) in various European capitals.18 These were not all entirely independent from the German government. Yet even during the Nazi era, they retained a certain degree of autonomy. As well as acknowledging the importance of non-state actors, recent historical studies have also paid greater attention to certain aspects of transnationality. If individuals or social groups in different countries interact with one another, they form networks that transcend national borders. They might not act as “representatives of a nation, but as ‘fellow human beings’ or as members of a certain political, religious, unionized or cultural group.”19 This idea has to be applied carefully to any study of transnational relations within the ultranationalist context of Nazi-German hegemony.20 The nation, transformed into the “Volk,” continually formed the most important reference point for the National Socialists’ self-conception and, to varying degrees, for nationalist discourses in other countries. And yet, as Arnd Bauerkämper puts it, “the relationship between transnational relations and cross-border entanglements on the one hand and nationalist delimitation on the other is not contradictory.”21 This debate was recently continued in two special issues on the “dark side of transnationalism” and the ideological diversity of the “agents of internationalism.”22 If we consider the interwar period, we do indeed observe something like an “international of the nationalists” in right-wing and fascist milieus. As early as 1920 there were negotiations between leading German, Hungarian, and Austrian nationalists on the establishment of a “White International,” which ultimately never materialized.23 At the same time, Italian fascists “propagated the model of a new transnational European fascist civilization purportedly embodied by their dictatorship.”24 The Partito Nazionale Fascista and Benito Mussolini’s seizure of power had inspired others to found fascist parties in their own countries; some of them were supported or even directly financed by the Italians, and later by Rosenberg’s Außenpolitisches Amt der NSDAP (NSDAP Office of Foreign Affairs).25 Italian fascists initiated efforts to unite these groups into a “Fascist International,” a term used by Asverso Gravelli, who organized the first congress of right-wing conservatives and extremists in Rome in November  1932. The following year, Mussolini founded the Comitati d’Azione per l’Universalità di Roma (CAUR), which hosted two further international conferences, one in Montreux in December 1934, which saw the participation of fascists from several European countries, including Vidkun Quisling and Oswald Mosley, and another in Amsterdam in April 1935.26 The ties between the participants nonetheless remained loose. They could not agree with one another on certain important questions, including the relevance of race, and the German Nazis were not part of CAUR.27 More importantly, prior to 1941–1942, fascist parties did not come to power outside Italy and Germany, though authoritarian regimes did adopt fascist elements, as in Slovakia. The Italian Fascists and the German Nazis therefore found their allies among authoritarian rather than fascist parties and governments.28 In our view, the foundation of a common discourse between these conservative and authoritarian groups and the Italian and German fascists was ethnonationality or the völkisch principle, which we shall discuss in more detail later.

Introduction  5 In any case, certain European countries including Nazi Germany, Fascist Italy, and those with authoritarian governments – many of them in Southeastern Europe – were culturally, academically, and economically intertwined, and developed a common discourse on Europe. The bonds between them led to the formation of transnational networks that can only be understood through a transnational analytical approach. These theoretical considerations have been reflected in more recent empirical studies on transnational relations in the fields of science and academia, culture, and sports within the National Socialist sphere of influence. A number of publications have analyzed the relations between Nazi Germany and other individual countries, significantly broadening our understanding of interconnections within the aforementioned fields under Nazi influence. Particular attention has been paid to Franco-German relations,29 though Germany’s relations with Italy,30 Greece,31 pre-war Poland,32 and its Axis partner Japan33 – to name just a few – have also been analyzed. The studies that are of particular interest with regard to the present volume are those that do not limit their focus to bilateral relations, but rather compare the nature of German relations to several different countries, or even adopt a transnational perspective. One of the pioneers in this field is Jan-Pieter Barbian, who as early as 1992 published an article on all of the “Third Reich’s” cultural agreements (Kulturabkommen).34 Since then, more publications have appeared, many penned by Frank-Rutger Hausmann, who has analyzed the transnational relations enjoyed by German specialists in Roman languages and literature35 and by the Nazi-dominated European Writers’ Union.36 Hausmann’s study on the German Cultural Institutes (Deutsche Wissenschaftliche Institute) which, as noted previously, were established in many European countries during the Second World War, has been particularly influential.37 Other historians have focused on the dissemination of the German language abroad,38 on student and academic exchange,39 and on international sports events and Nazi Germany’s international sports policy.40 A  summary of these can be found in Frank Trommler’s monumental monograph on Germany’s foreign cultural relations in the twentieth century.41 For the first time, the present volume attempts to combine an analysis of Nazi Germany’s transnational relations with an evaluation of the discourse that accompanied these relations. It thus considers how the relations between Germany and other European countries are linked to the discourse about “Europe” in Germany and these other countries. During the Second World War, observers from outside Germany  – journalists, academics, writers, politicians, members of resistance movements, and so on  – claimed that the Nazis were concealing their plans to conquer Europe by insinuating that their aim was only to “defend Europe.” These observers called the Nazi-German policy “anti-European.” Even before the war, they considered National Socialism an “un-European” ideology.42 Research on conceptions of Europe within the National Socialist sphere of influence has long followed this line of interpretation.43 The only studies to take the Nazis’ own discourse on Europe seriously were, paradoxically, uncritical approaches towards a fascist

6  Johannes Dafinger and Dieter Pohl vision for Europe44 or written by those hostile to European integration in the context of the European Union.45 Among serious historians, Peter Stirk was the first to suggest that to treat the National Socialists’ ideas of Europe as propaganda in the service of conquest is too simple [ . . . because it] fails to recognise Europe as a contested concept and it fails to recognise National Socialist ideology and practice as an attempt to “make Europe,” to bring Europe into existence.46 In our view, Stirk is right on both counts. The very fact that resistance movements in several European countries, along with Germany’s wartime enemies, felt the need to develop alternative visions for the future of Europe47 indicates that Europe was indeed a contested concept. In 1941, for example, a British newspaper wrote that a “fatal blow might be struck at the Nazi cause if the democracies could show that they had a better programme for Europe than Hitler.”48 In fact, Europe was also a contested concept within Nazi Germany, since various individuals and groups were at work developing their own vision of a “new European order.” Europe was variously conceived as a Germanic Europe,49 as a large economic area (wirtschaftlicher Großraum),50 as Mitteleuropa,51 as an antiBolshevik “community of destiny” (Schicksalsgemeinschaft),52 and so on. What still has to be discussed – and some of the contributions in the present volume do precisely this – is whether all of these visions were incompatible with one another or whether they had some features in common (i.e., whether there was anything like a core notion of a new nationalist Europe under Hitler). Whether there was such a notion or not, all of the various conceptions of Europe amounted to “form[s] in which European unity was conceived” and thus served to guide the actions of individuals and groups in the aim of realizing a certain order.53 Alfred Rosenberg, Joseph Goebbels, the SS, the Mitteleuropäischer Wirtschafts­tag, the German Foreign Office, groups of völkisch writers, and many others besides all wanted to make their vision of Europe a reality. This line of interpretation has again been taken up in more recent studies. In her contribution to a special journal issue on “anti-liberal Europe,” Iris Schröder echoed Stirk’s contentions, stating that the Nazi “New Europe” was not “only a National Socialist propaganda weapon,” but that the term “Europe” also referred to “an abundance of competing political beliefs and goals and not least [to] a European policy that was actually implemented – for the most part by the National Socialists.”54 In this light, the argument put forward by older studies therefore has to be inverted: The very fact that contemporary actors called the Nazi plans for a new nationalist Europe “anti-European” shows just how contested “Europe” as a concept actually was. For the Allies, labeling the Nazi plans “anti-European” was part of a political strategy that sought to counteract German propaganda. The Nazis themselves, however, claimed to be “defending” Europe against the Allied powers – which meant both the “plutocratic” West and the “Asiatic-Bolshevik” East.55

Introduction 7 On both sides, the terms “Europe” and “European” were used normatively, implying that only one’s own side was “good” and “European.” Both the Nazis and their enemies thus referred to Europe in a positive sense and called their visions of the future “European,” but “Europe” was understood differently in each context. Interpreting Europe as an “imagined community” does not constitute a revolutionary approach. Nevertheless, the Nazi vision of Europe – which, as the various contributions to the present volume show, was fully consistent with Nazi ideology – is one that has been left out of most intellectual histories of the continent.56 This would appear to be due to a logic similar to that which governed the historical debate on the notion of a “Nazi modernity:57 If historians use the terms “modern” and “European” as self-evident analytical categories, the Nazi era must appear to them as an aberration in Europe’s path towards “modernization” and “European integration.” One can only see “Nazi modernity” and a “Nazi Europe” as possible versions of each respective notion if these terms are used critically and based on the understanding that historically one has to speak of modernities and Europes in the plural. Both debates therefore call for historization, of modernity and of Europe.

A new approach to a völkisch and nationalist Europe under Hitler The most appropriate common denominator of all the Nazi and right-wing conceptions of Europe is the German term “völkisch,” which is almost untranslatable into English. The adjective völkisch was adopted by German ethnonationalist groups that considered the nation to be constituted by ethnicity rather than by citizenship. On this view, the nation is not restricted to the ethnicity contained within the borders of the nation-state, but also includes minorities of the same ethnicity abroad. Völkisch groups were highly anti-Semitic and some even tried to overcome Christianity by creating a new confession, as with the later Nazi “god believers” (Gottgläubige).58 Adherents of the völkisch movement distinguished themselves from the Italian fascists and National Socialists through their strong emphasis on traditional values. They could be found among the broad range of right-wing groups formed after 1918, such as the Party of National Independence in Hungary (Magyar Nemzeti Függetlenségi Párt) and the National Christian Defense League in Romania (Liga Apărării Naţional Creştine), but also among conservative parties such as the German National People’s Party (Deutschnationale Volks­partei). There was some overlap with fascist groups, especially where youth organizations were concerned, yet völkisch groups tended to be more bourgeois and were embedded within traditional elite networks, such as those within science and academia. They were also more attached to traditional conservative culture, and less violent. As ruling parties, they tended towards authoritarian practices and the suppression of fascist groups. On the basis of these considerations, the present volume takes a new approach to analyzing right-wing Europe under Hitler. We argue that a vision of a völkisch and nationalist Europe was a model that allowed for consensus between Nazis, fascists, and völkisch conservatives. The 1920s and above all the 1930s witnessed

8  Johannes Dafinger and Dieter Pohl a transformation of conservative milieus. Conservatives in considerable numbers came to embrace new forms of nation-building based on the principle of ethnonationality (which we call the völkisch principle), thereby excluding Jews, Roma, and ethnicities considered as foreign. Previously, the nation had not played a significant role in the political thought of “classical” conservatives, just as “classical” conservative themes did not play a significant role within the emerging völkisch milieu. It was particularly anti-Semitism and a radicalized anti-Bolshevism that brought such conservative circles closer to the fascist right. The German Nazis had no clearly defined catalogue of ideological imperatives in the manner of the communists’ classical Marxist texts. Yet Lutz Raphael convincingly argues that “[t]his basic ‘deficiency’ was, in fact, one of the reasons for the phenomenal spread of the National Socialist Weltanschauung,”59 since it made it possible to integrate conservative, nationalist, and national liberal ideas60 into what he calls the discursive ideological “field” of National Socialism.61 “National Socialist ideology  .  .  . was open to ideas coming from other social and political contexts and to different traditions.”62 Those non-Germans who formed part of the new nationalist Europe under Hitler were not only “working towards Nazi Germany” (Ferenc Laczó) as well.63 Many proponents of the völkisch, conservative, authoritarian, or fascist political spectrum in other European countries went along with the German Nazis to some extent because this suited their own interests. “Freedom of expression”64 was within Germany nonetheless limited insofar as “pivotal elements of the National Socialist Weltanschauung . . . form[ed] a kind of common denominator linking the different viewpoints.”65 These key elements had to be accepted by all those who wished to “retain some sort of position” within Nazi Germany.66 The “field” of European reasoning within the National Socialist sphere of influence likewise combined “fluidity and flexibility with a set of convictions and core arguments.”67 The vision of a völkisch and nationalist Europe united different groups behind a common idea, even in countries whose authoritarian governments suppressed fascist opposition movements. Opinions that lay beyond the bounds of the “sayable” were not tolerated. Inside these bounds, however, we can observe a plurality of diverse and sometimes even opposing standpoints. The “site” in which the pivotal elements of a völkisch and nationalist vision of Europe were negotiated was the zone of generally non-diplomatic contacts and relationships in the fields of science and academia, culture, economics, and racial policies. In this regard, Rüdiger Hachtmann has shown that, in Nazi Germany, “informal contacts and networks of communication played a much larger part than they had before.”68 Elite clubs “gained importance as information exchanges, spaces of communication, and informal forums of coordination.”69 This also holds true for communication across national borders: here too, informal networks played a greater role during the Nazi era than they had previously. The new nationalist Europe under Hitler was elaborated in the hallways of opera houses, in the cafeterias of academic institutions, and in the private living rooms of entrepreneurs and business leaders. From there, these visions of Europe found their way into the columns of journals and newspapers and the opening speeches of cultural events.

Introduction  9 Relationships within the Nazi “New Europe” went hand in hand with German military and political dominance. One effect of this dominance was to exclude significant parts of the population from this new Europe. Both German and nonGerman political opponents, who had their own plans for the continent, were silenced. Jews, moreover, were completely excluded from the public sphere under German and Axis rule, along with the majority of people living in the alleged “German living space” (deutscher Lebensraum) in Eastern Europe. Following the occupation of Poland, for example, Germany simply attempted to destroy traditional Polish cultural life, though exceptions to the rule remained.70 This is why Eastern Europe plays no role in the contributions to this volume. The book is divided into four sections. The first is devoted to visions of Europe. Visions of Europe within the National Socialist sphere of influence were all based on the conviction that Völker (the plural of Volk) should become the building blocks of every political order. In his contribution, Ulrich Prehn shows that German scholars of constitutional law, international law, and Volkswissenschaften (Volk studies) referred to Völker as “persons” (Volkspersönlichkeiten) bearing their own rights. International law, in their view, would thus have to be replaced by an ethnonational groups’ law (Volksgruppenrecht). As Prehn notes, the idea of such a universally applicable Volksgruppenrecht nonetheless became obsolete in practice during the Second World War and served merely as a rhetorical tool for legitimizing the Nazis’ völkisch policy. Other chapters in this section discuss the significance of the category Volk beyond the judicial sphere. Core elements of National Socialist visions of Europe were based on völkisch thinking and it was held that the continent should be structured along völkisch lines. As Johannes Dafinger underscores in his contribution, Europe was understood as a “family of Völker,” each of which had its own peculiarities and its own way of life and culture. Other ideological assumptions of the discourse on Europe in Nazi Germany included the notion that its different Völker all belonged to one “Aryan” race  – thus excluding Jews from the Nazi “New Europe” – and the belief that they were jointly endangered by their common enemies of “plutocracy” and “Bolshevism,” both of which were regarded as “Jewish” and “international.” The subject of Johannes Koll’s chapter, Arthur Seyss-Inquart, shared these views. Taking Seyss-Inquart as an example, Koll reconstructs the development of such ideas in völkisch German nationalism in right-wing political circles in Austria. He also discusses the relevance of these visions for the German occupation policies that Seyss-Inquart helped to shape in his capacity as deputy general governor in Poland and reich commissioner in the Netherlands. In Koll’s view, the Nazis’ discourse on Europe was intended to legitimize and idealize German rule over the continent and to conceal its brutality. Dafinger, meanwhile, places greater emphasis on grounding the Nazi visions of Europe in the context of the Nazis’ broader ideology and European policy. The subsequent chapters turn towards the contribution made by actors outside Germany to visions of Europe within the National Socialist sphere of influence and to their reaction to the German visions. Tim Kirk’s chapter constitutes the first comprehensive overview of the various responses to German plans for a New

10  Johannes Dafinger and Dieter Pohl European Order and the associated German propaganda abroad. Kirk emphasizes that the European conservatives and fascists who collaborated with the Nazis had their own plans and visions for the continent’s future. In the Nazis’ new nationalist Europe, they saw an opportunity for their agendas, yet over the course of time were often disappointed with how the “New Order” developed. Their proposals, moreover, were rarely taken seriously by the German leadership. Kirk also argues that debates about the “new order” were usually limited to a narrow elite, the most active among them being members of a right-wing intelligentsia. As far as can be observed on the basis of the available sources, the general public in Western Europe showed little sympathy for Nazi Germany and Nazi propaganda from the outset. In East-Central and Southeastern Europe, however, some sections of the population welcomed the Nazi “New Europe.” As is evident from the Hungarian newspaper Donaueuropa, the dialogue between German Nazis and local elites made the ideas and principles of the Nazi “New Europe” increasingly “normal.” The chapters by Marició Janué i Miret and Cláudia Ninhos focus on the Spanish and Portuguese stance towards the Nazi “New Europe.” With its doctrine of the “Raza de la Hispanidad” (Hispanic race), Spain’s fascist party, the Falange, had incorporated ideas into their ideology that had the potential to conflict with the Nazi vision of Europe. Janué i Miret’s contribution focuses on this doctrine, which started to be developed from around 1892, following the 400-year anniversary celebrations of Columbus’s “discovery” of America. Over the course of time, “Hispanidad” stood for various different justifications of the spiritual or cultural unity of Spain with its former colonies in Latin America. From the middle of the 1930s, fascist intellectuals began to place special emphasis on the importance of Spain as an imperial power for the cohesiveness of the “Hispanidad” community. For our purposes it is especially important that they also assigned Spain a leading role within Europe. Indeed, alongside Germany and Italy, they saw Spain as one of the three leading European powers. This would seem to call into question the German claim to European leadership, yet the potential rivalry it implied never became manifest. On the contrary, Spain’s own racial theory – though not grounded in biological reasoning – was compatible with the general consensus on how societies should be structured in the “New Order.” In a similar vein, we can observe a number of preconditions for, and obstacles to, the integration of António de Oliveira Salazar’s Portugal into the Nazi “New Order.” The Portuguese dictator was aware that Nazi Germany’s policies and its rising power posed a threat to the sovereignty and independence of other European nations, and was convinced the Nazis would use their position to dominate Europe. In her chapter, Ninhos analyzes a report, sent to Salazar by the Portuguese diplomat in Berlin, Pedro Tovar de Lemos, on the Nazis’ plans for a “New Order” in Europe. The report mentions a number of other differences between German and Portuguese political objectives where the role of the churches, political parties, and not least the Jewish population are concerned. At the same time, Tovar and Salazar noted that the Portuguese government could agree with many principles of the Nazi “New Order.” In particular, this New Order was seen as an ultranationalist “third way” between parliamentary and capitalist liberalism on the one

Introduction  11 hand and Marxist socialism on the other, and this appealed to Europe’s fascist and authoritarian leaders. As Ninhos shows, the “radical right” therefore “emerged as the standard bearers of a ‘New Order.’ ”71 The second section of the volume is devoted to contacts, cooperation, and exchange between Nazi Germany and other European countries in the fields of science, academia, and culture. The chapters in this section show that a new nationalist order was already poised to emerge in Nazi-dominated Europe, but with different implications for different regions or countries. Maria Zarifi’s chapter offers an insight into the various cultural activities initiated by German institutions with the aim of fostering good relations with Greece. Her main focus, however, is on the initiatives undertaken by German scholars in order to conduct scientific, and more specifically agricultural, research in Greece. German botanical expeditions and the founding of German research institutes in Greece nonetheless only received limited support from Greek scholars. Most were unwilling to cooperate with their German colleagues. Zarifi therefore concludes that, in the Nazi “New Order,” Greece amounted to no more than a region in which the Nazis exercised their Großraumpolitik. In his contribution, Ian Innerhofer analyzes debates among German and Southeastern European experts on the concept of overpopulation. Their highly questionable Malthusian approach, which claimed that, since “backward” agrarian societies had higher population levels in rural areas than were necessary for agricultural production, they were overpopulated, enjoyed some popularity in scholarly discourse in the 1930s, and not only in Germany. Innerhofer demonstrates the close ties between German and Southeast European economists up to 1944, which were strengthened through some of the latter having studied in Germany. They all shared the overpopulation paradigm, though from different motives. While the German experts favored agricultural intensification and the transfer of “superfluous” workers to the Reich, the Southeast European actors preferred industrialization as a way out of the “overpopulation trap.” Both sides shared völkisch interpretations of overpopulation and all supported “ethnic consolidation” through demographic changes that disadvantaged or threatened minorities. Holger Impekoven, meanwhile, discusses how German institutions provided foreign students with scholarships to study in Germany, even during the Second World War. Half of these scholarships were given to foreign students from Southeastern Europe. This reflected the German geopolitical tradition of thinking of the region as a German “hinterland.” The recruitment of local elites from South European countries was intended to secure future German dominance in the region. Impekoven argues, however, that this approach was neither new nor specifically driven by völkisch ideas. It rather followed patterns of cultural diplomacy found among many great powers. In the occupied Baltic States and Northwestern and Northern Europe, Germany used the same instrument of awarding scholarships to foreign students, yet for a different purpose. Their aim was to effect an “ethnic transformation” in these regions. Certain students were selected from these Baltic States who were regarded as “suitable to merge into the German people.”72 Through their stays in Germany, students from Northwestern Europe were to

12  Johannes Dafinger and Dieter Pohl be reminded of the fact that they belonged to the “Germanic” peoples. Impekoven interprets these efforts as explicit attempts to contribute to the creation of a racially defined “New Europe.” Furthermore, many students who applied for the German scholarships shared this vision and saw themselves as part of the future elite of the “New Europe.” Such a positive attitude towards the Nazi “New Order” nonetheless had to be predicated on the belief that this order would last. When the fortunes of war shifted and a German defeat became likely, the Nazi model of Europe thus lost much of its attractiveness. The exchange and co-production of films between Germany and Italy and between Germany and Japan are the subjects of Silvia Hofheinz’s contribution. An attempt to reorganize the exchange and production of films at the European level was made through the founding of the International Film Chamber (Internationale Filmkammer) in 1935 (and its subsequent revitalization following a period of decreased activity), which Goebbels hoped would make Europe’s film industries capable of competing with the United States, via the pooling of resources and know-how. The International Film Festival in Venice (the Biennale) was seen as the place where a new European unity, “in the spirit of the New European Order,”73 would be demonstrated in public. Plans for intertwining national institutions at the European level are also the topic of Felicitas Seebacher’s contribution. Seebacher demonstrates that, in the early 1940s, the presidents of the German (which also included the former Austrian) Academies of Sciences attempted to assume the leadership of the Union Académique Internationale, a union of academies for the humanities. They assumed that it was inevitable and justified that German scholars would play a leading role in Europe’s future academic world. Their plans were not put into practice before the Second World War came to an end. The third section of the volume explores various visions of a Europe-wide economic order in the National Socialist sphere of influence. Special attention is given to conceptions of a Greater Economic Area (Großraumwirtschaft) that would be dominated by Germany. Markus Wien’s chapter argues that the Central European Economic Conference (Mitteleuropäischer Wirtschaftstag, MWT) did not regard itself as an executive body of the Nazi regime’s expansionist foreign policy. Seeking rather to construct a German-dominated Greater Economic Area in Southeast Europe, it understood itself as an advocate of German economic interests. In cooperation with German research institutes such as the Südostinstitut in Munich or the Institut für Mittel- und Südosteuropäische Wirtschaftsforschung in Leipzig, the MWT developed economic concepts centered around notions of Volkstum (national culture). Raimund Bauer’s contribution, meanwhile, focuses on a later period and penetratingly illuminates the dynamic of the German discourse on the “new economic order” in Europe during the Second World War. Under the influence of the war effort itself, Germany’s war aims (along with their communication) changed decisively over the course of time. Bauer identifies three distinct phases. After the Wehrmacht’s initial victories, Nazi officials and German economic experts pushed for the establishment of a Großraumwirtschaft stretching from Northern

Introduction  13 to Southeastern Europe. This, they assumed, would create an almost autarkic Europe under German hegemony, and should serve German interests first of all. During this first phase, the short-term needs of the war economy were overshadowed by long-term objectives. With Germany’s attack on the Soviet Union (and the onset of the second phase), the question arose of how the conquered territories were to be integrated into the future economic order. They were not seen as part of the projected Großraum, but as areas designated for colonial exploitation. There were nonetheless also voices highlighting the need to win the support of at least part of the population – the Ukrainians, for example, who for Alfred Rosenberg belonged to the “European family of peoples.” Following the German defeat at Stalingrad, the exigencies of the war then came to play a much bigger role in the third phase. The “New Europe” was now referred to as “an existing community, its common culture and shared fate,”74 which was facing an existential threat in the form of Bolshevism. All talk of colonization had to stop, since it would only drive people in Eastern Europe into the arms of the enemy. At stake here was not only a change of rhetoric, but some actors also demanded a change in the Nazi occupation policy in Eastern Europe. On the one hand, Bauer contends that this evolution could be interpreted as a tactical change that “at least temporarily . . . sacrificed core National Socialist principles for the sake of military victory.”75 On the other hand, however, Bauer offers another, more complex explanation: The fact that short-term war necessities required a reformulation of what was understood by “New Europe” served to aid those groups within the Nazi camp that even before Stalingrad tended towards a “pragmatic” and “völkisch” vision of Europe. They now had an additional argument on their side which “made them immune to critique.”76 Ultimately, then, this supports the previously mentioned thesis that National Socialism was an “ideological field” – or as Bauer suggests, “that the National Socialist system rested on different ideological pillars.”77 In our view, the völkisch visions of Europe were also National Socialist visions. At least in the last of the three phases distinguished by Bauer, these völkisch visions gained significant support within Germany, whether for ideological or tactical reasons. Furthermore, they had the best potential to build consensus among non-German Europeans. The fourth section of the volume focuses on international cooperation between anti-Jewish scholars and on joint German-Italian practices of persecuting political enemies, Jewish citizens, and Sinti and Roma – practices that their perpetrators sought to justify via racial theories. Despite being strict nationalists, anti-Jewish scholars in Nazi Germany engaged in international cooperation because they felt the need to tackle the international “Jewish question” through an international approach (i.e., by Europeanizing antiSemitic research). Dirk Rupnow’s chapter offers an overview of these international research activities. Important centers for anti-Jewish scholarship included the Institute for Research on the Jewish Question (Institut zur Erforschung der Judenfrage) in Frankfurt and Munich’s Research Department on the Jewish Question at the Reich Institute for the History of the New Germany (Forschungsabteilung Judenfrage des Reichsinstituts für Geschichte des neuen Deutschlands). With the

14  Johannes Dafinger and Dieter Pohl support of Alfred Rosenberg, the Propaganda Ministry, and other ministries and party agencies, international anti-Jewish congresses and meetings were organized. Rupnow also shows how these activities were closely tied to anti-Jewish propaganda campaigns conducted abroad by the Foreign Office. Patrick Bernhard demonstrates that the German-Italian Axis had a racist ideological foundation, which formed the basis for joint practices seeking to “purify” Europe from “racial” and political enemies. The chapter first explores the German Nazis’ fascination with Mussolini’s policy of social cleansing and imperialistic expansion in the 1920s and early 1930s. It then addresses the ongoing ideological rapprochement between Germany and Italy in the wake of the proclamation of the Axis in 1936, focusing on the shared notion of a Jewish-Bolshevik world conspiracy and the way in which Fascist Italy’s imperial aggression in Africa inspired the Nazis. Finally, it analyzes German-Italian cooperation in concrete persecutory practices. Bernhard focuses here on collaboration between German and Italian police against political enemies, Jewish citizens, and Sinti and Roma. What emerges through this process of exchange and collaboration is a blueprint for a fascist and National Socialist Europe.

Notes 1 Note by Martin Luther (Foreign Office) for a report to Foreign Minister Joachim von Ribbentrop, September 17, 1942, printed in Hans Werner Neulen, Europa und das 3. Reich: Einigungsbestrebungen im deutschen Machtbereich 1939–45 (Munich: Universitas, 1987), 104 (doc. 8). Luther quotes from a report by Gerhard Todenhöfer (German Foreign Office) about a Ministerial Conference on 16 September 1942. Cf. Michael Buddrus, Totale Erziehung für den totalen Krieg: Hitlerjugend und nationalsozialistische Jugendpolitik (Munich: Saur, 2003), 2: 797. All translations from the German are ours. 2 Willi A. Boelcke, “Wollt ihr den totalen Krieg?” Die geheimen Goebbels-Konferenzen 1939–1945 (Stuttgart: Deutsche Verlags-Anstalt, 1967), 283. Cf. Buddrus, Erziehung, 797, n. 273. 3 “Europäische Jugendorganisation,” Zeitschriften-Dienst, no. 176/45, September  18, 1942, section 7560. 4 Ibid. On the European Youth Federation see also Christoph Kühberger, “Europa als ‘Strahlenbündel nationaler Kräfte’: Zur Konzeption und Legitimation einer europäi­ schen Zusammenarbeit auf der Gründungsfeierlichkeit des ‘Europäischen Jugendverbandes’ 1942,” Journal of European Integration History 15, no. 2 (2009); Jürgen Reulecke, “ ‘Baldurs Kinderfest’ oder: Die Gründung des Europäischen Jugendverbandes in Wien am 14.09.1942,” in Geschichte als Last und Chance: Festschrift für Bernd Faulenbach, ed. Franz-Josef Jelich and Stefan Goch (Essen: Klartext, 2003). Pictures from the “Gauhaus” during the congress with depictions of “Europa and the bull” in Wolfgang Schmale, Geschichte Europas (Vienna, Colone and Weimar: Böhlau, 2001), 120, 126. 5 Europa ist mehr als ein Kontinent: Ansprache des Reichsleiters Baldur von Schirach in der Stunde der Begründung des Europäischen Jugendverbandes in Wien am 15. September 1942 (n.p., n.d. [1942]), 10. The publication included also an Italian and a Spanish translation of the speech. 6 Ibid., 10. 7 Ibid., 5.

Introduction  15 8 Hans-Jürgen Schröder, “Südosteuropa als ‘Informal Empire’ Deutschlands 1933– 1939: Das Beispiel Jugoslawien,” Jahrbücher für Geschichte Osteuropas 23 (1975). 9 Tatjana Tönsmeyer, Das Dritte Reich und die Slowakei 1939–1945: Politischer Alltag zwischen Kooperation und Eigensinn (Paderborn: Schöningh, 2003). 10 Efforts at synthesis: Czesław Madajczyk, Faszyzm i okupacje 1938–1945: Wykonywanie okupacji przez państwa Osi w Europie, 2 vols. (Poznań: Wyd. Poznańskie, 1983/84); Das Deutsche Reich und der Zweite Weltkrieg, ed. The Militärgeschichtliches Forschungsamt, vol. 5/1, 5/2 (Stuttgart: Deutsche Verlags-Anstalt, 1988/1999); Werner Röhr, ed., Europa unterm Hakenkreuz: Analysen, Quellen, Register (Heidelberg: Hüthig, 1996); Mark Mazower, Hitler’s Empire: How the Nazis Ruled Europe (New York: Penguin Press, 2008). 11 Akira Iriye, “Culture and International History,” in Explaining the History of American Foreign Relations, ed. M. J. Hogan and T. G. Paterson (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991); Frank Ninkovich, “Culture, Power, and Civilization: The Place of Culture in the Study of International Relations,” in On Cultural Grounds. Essays in International History, ed. Robert David Johnson (Chicago: Imprint Publication, 1994). 12 Cf. for instance Jessica C.E. Gienow-Hecht, “Introduction  – On the Division of Knowledge and the Community of Thought: Culture and International History,” in Culture and International History, ed. Jessica C.E. Gienow-Hecht and Frank Schumacher (New York and Oxford: Berghahn, 2003), 5. 13 For a summary of recent reflections on the place of the nation-state in transnational histories, see Jessica Reinisch, “Introduction: Agents of Internationalism,” Contemporary European History 25, no. 2 (2016): 199. 14 The history of this process in Germany in the twentieth century is excellently summed up by Frank Trommler, Kulturmacht ohne Kompass: Deutsche auswärtige Kulturbeziehungen im 20. Jahrhundert (Cologne, Weimar and Vienna: Böhlau, 2014). On the theory of cultural diplomacy see Patrick Schreiner, Außenkulturpolitik: Internationale Beziehungen und kultureller Austausch (Bielefeld: transcript, 2011). 15 See Eckard Michels, Von der Deutschen Akademie zum Goethe-Institut: Sprach- und auswärtige Kulturpolitik 1923–1960 (Munich: Oldenbourg, 2005). 16 See Jürgen Kloosterhuis, “Friedliche Imperialisten”: Deutsche Auslandsvereine und auswärtige Kulturpolitik, 1906–1918, 2 vols. (Frankfurt am Main et al.: Lang, 1994). 17 See Holger Impekoven, Die Alexander von Humboldt-Stiftung und das Ausländerstudium in Deutschland 1925–1945: Von der “geräuschlosen Propaganda” zur Ausbildung der “geistigen Wehr” des “Neuen Europa” (Göttingen: Bonn University Press, 2013). 18 See Frank-Rutger Hausmann, “Auch im Krieg schweigen die Musen nicht”: Die Deutschen Wissenschaftlichen Institute im Zweiten Weltkrieg, 2nd ed. (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2002). 19 Ursula Lehmkuhl, “Diplomatiegeschichte als internationale Kulturgeschichte: Theoretische Ansätze und empirische Forschung zwischen Historischer Kulturwissenschaft und Soziologischem Institutionalismus,” Geschichte und Gesellschaft 27, no. 3 (2001): 411. 20 On this and the following, cf. Philip Morgan, Fascism in Europe, 1919–1945 (London and New York: Routledge, 2003), 159–189 (chapter “Fascist internationalism”). 21 Arnd Bauerkämper, “Transnational Fascism: Cross-Border Relations between Regimes and Movements in Europe, 1922–1939,” East Central Europe 37 (2010): 215; cf. also Arnd Bauerkämper, “Ambiguities of Transnationalism: Fascism in Europe between Pan-Europeanism and Ultra-Nationalism, 1919–39,” German Historical Institute Bulletin 29, no. 2 (2007): 45; Arnd Bauerkämper, “Interwar Fascism in Europe and Beyond: Toward a Transnational Radical Right,” in New Perspectives on the Transnational Right, ed. Martin Durham and Margaret Power (Basingstoke/Hampshire and New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2010), 40 (both with reference to opposing views

16  Johannes Dafinger and Dieter Pohl

22

23 24 25 26

27 28 29

30 31

32 33 34 35 36

37

in historiography). For general reflections on the specifics of transnational connections of the political Right, see Martin Durham and Margaret Power, “Introduction,” in New Perspectives on the Transnational Right, ed. Martin Durham and Margaret Power (Basingstoke/Hampshire and New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2010). Journal of Contemporary History 51, no. 1 (2016) (special issue “The Dark Side of Transnationalism”), esp. Kiran Klaus Patel and Sven Reichardt, “The Dark Side of Transnationalism: Social Engineering and Nazism, 1930s–40s”; Contemporary European History 25, no. 2 (2016) (special issue “Agents of Internationalism”), esp. Reinisch, “Introduction,” 198, and Ana Antic, Johanna Conterio and Dora Vargha, “Conclusion: Beyond Liberal Internationalism.” Bruno Thoß, Der Ludendorff-Kreis 1919–1923: München als Zentrum der mitteleuropäischen Gegenrevolution zwischen Revolution und Hitler-Putsch (Munich: Wölfle, 1978), 396–399. Bauerkämper, “Interwar Fascism,” 45. Hans-Adolf Jacobsen, Nationalsozialistische Außenpolitik 1933–1938 (Frankfurt am Main et al.: Metzner 1968), 81–83. Marco Cuzzi, L’internazionale delle camicie nere. I  CAUR, Comitati d’azione per l’universalità di Roma, 1933–1939 (Milano: Mursia, 2005); Michael Arthur Ledeen, Universal Fascism: The Theory and Practice of the Fascist International, 1928–1936 (Howard Fertig: New York, 1972), 104–132, 148. Arnd Bauerkämper, Der Faschismus in Europa 1918–1945 (Stuttgart: Reclam, 2006), 166–175. Cf. Martin Blinkhorn, Fascism and the Right in Europe, 1919–1945 (Harlow: Pearson Education, 2000), 88–93. Instead of many, see Hans Manfred Bock, Reinhart Meyer-Kalkus and Michel Trebitsch, eds., Entre Locarno et Vichy: Les relations france-allemandes dans les années 1930, 2 vols. (Paris: CNRS Editions, 1993). For occupied Paris, see for example Eckard Michels, Das Deutsche Institut in Paris 1940–1944: Ein Beitrag zu den deutsch-französischen Kulturbeziehungen und zur auswärtigen Kulturpolitik des Dritten Reiches (Stuttgart: Steiner, 1993); Kathrin Engel, Deutsche Kulturpolitik im besetzten Paris 1940–1944: Film und Theater (Munich: Oldenbourg, 2003). Andrea Hoffend, Zwischen Kultur-Achse und Kulturkampf: Die Beziehungen zwischen “Drittem Reich” und faschistischem Italien in den Bereichen Medien, Kunst, Wissenschaft und Rassenfragen (Frankfurt am Main et al.: Lang, 1998). Maria Zarifi, Science, Culture and Politics: Germany’s Cultural Policy and Scientific Relations with Greece 1933–1945 (Saarbrücken: VDM, 2010); Fedra Koutsoukou, Die deutsche Kulturpolitik in Griechenland in der Zeit des Nationalsozialismus (1933–1944) (Berlin: Metropol, 2008). Karina Pryt, Befohlene Freundschaft: Die deutsch-polnischen Kulturbeziehungen 1934–1939 (Osnabrück: fibre, 2010). Hans-Joachim Bieber, SS und Samurai: Deutsch-japanische Kulturbeziehungen 1933– 1945 (Munich: Iudicium, 2014). Jan-Pieter Barbian, “ ‘Kulturwerte im Zweikampf’: Die Kulturabkommen des ‘Dritten Reiches’ als Instrumente nationalsozialistischer Außenpolitik,” Archiv für Kulturgeschichte 74, no. 2 (1992). Frank-Rutger Hausmann, “Vom Strudel der Ereignisse verschlungen”: Deutsche Roma­ nistik im “Dritten Reich” (Frankfurt am Main: Vittorio Klostermann, 2000). Frank-Rutger Hausmann, “Dichte, Dichter, tage nicht!” Die Europäische SchriftstellerVereinigung in Weimar 1941–1948 (Frankfurt am Main: Vittorio Klostermann, 2004). Cf. also Benjamin George Martin, “ ‘European Literature’ in the Nazi New Order: The Cultural Politics of the European Writers’ Union, 1941–3,” Journal of Contemporary History 48, no. 3 (2013). Hausmann, Krieg.

Introduction  17 38 Michels, Akademie; Dirk Scholten, Sprachverbreitungspolitik des nationalsozialistischen Deutschlands (Frankfurt am Main et al.: Lang, 2000). 39 Impekoven, Humboldt-Stiftung; Dieter Hoffmann and Mark Walker, eds., “Fremde” Wissenschaftler im Dritten Reich: Die Debye-Affäre im Kontext (Göttingen: Wallstein, 2011); Madeleine Herren, “ ‘Outwardly  .  .  . an Innocuous Conference Authority’: National Socialism and the Logistics of International Information Management,” German History 20, no. 1 (2002). Fernando Clara and Cláudia Ninhos, eds., Nazi Germany and Southern Europe, 1933–45: Science, Culture and Politics (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2016). 40 Hans Joachim Teichler, Internationale Sportpolitik im Dritten Reich (Schorndorf: Hofmann, 1991). 41 Trommler, Kulturmacht, 419–567. 42 See for example Paul Michael Lützeler, Die Schriftsteller und Europa: Von der Romantik bis zur Gegenwart (Munich and Zurich: Piper, 1992), 365–401, esp. 369, 379, and 393. 43 Robert Edwin Herzstein, When Nazi Dreams Come True: The Third Reich’s Internal Struggle over the Future of Europe after a German Victory – A Look at the Nazi Mentality 1939–45 (London: ABACUS, 1982); Michael Salewski, “Ideas of the National Socialist Government and Party,” in Documents on the History of European Integration. Vol 1: Continental Plans for European Union 1939–1945, ed. Walter Lipgens (Berlin and New York: de Gruyter, 1985); Jörg K. Hoensch, “Nationalsozialistische Europapläne im Zweiten Weltkrieg: Versuch einer Synthese,” in MitteleuropaKonzeptionen in der ersten Hälfte des 20. Jahrhunderts, ed. Richard G. Plaschka et al. (Vienna: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, 1995). 44 Worth mentioning because of carefully collected primary sources – even if the interpretation is not convincing  – is Neulen, Europa. Neulen separates the Nazi regime, which in his opinion was not fascist, from these discourses; the regime had been “hostile to Europe,” he claims. Hans Werner Neulen, “Einführung,” in Neulen, Europa, 21 et seqq. 45 John Laughland, The Tainted Source: The Undemocratic Origins of the European Idea (London: Little, Brown & Company, 1997). 46 Peter M. R. Stirk, “Authoritarian and National Socialist Conceptions of Nation, State and Europe,” in European Unity in Context: The Interwar Period, ed. Peter M. R. Stirk (London and New York: Pinter, 1989), 125. 47 See the introduction of the editor and the documents in Walter Lipgens, ed., EuropaFöderationspläne der Widerstandsbewegungen 1940–1945: Eine Dokumentation (Munich: Oldenbourg, 1968); Stephanie Seul, “Europa im Wettstreit der Propagandisten: Entwürfe für ein besseres Nachkriegseuropa in der britischen Deutschlandpropaganda als Antwort auf Hitlers ‘Neuordnung Europas’ 1940–1941,” Jahrbuch für Kommunikationsgeschichte 8 (2006). 48 “German Economy and the War: Nazi Plan of Trade Domination in Europe,” The Times, 7.3.1941, 5, quoted from Florian Greiner, Wege nach Europa: Deutungen eines imaginierten Kontinents in deutschen, britischen und amerikanischen Printmedien, 1914–1945 (Göttingen: Wallstein, 2014), 208. 49 Jürgen Elvert, Mitteleuropa! Deutsche Pläne zur europäischen Neuordnung (1918– 1945) (Stuttgart: Steiner, 1999), 309–386. 50 Carl Freytag, Deutschlands “Drang nach Südosten”: Der Mitteleuropäische Wirtschaftstag und der “Ergänzungsraum Südosteuropa” 1931–1945 (Vienna: Vienna University Press, 2012); Birgit Kletzin, Europa aus Rasse und Raum: Die nationalsozialistische Idee der Neuen Ordnung, 2nd ed. (Münster: LIT, 2002), 168–209. 51 Elvert, Mitteleuropa!, 219–307; Jürgen Elvert, “The ‘New European Order’ of National Socialism: Some Remarks on its Sources, Genesis and Nature,” in Anti-liberal Europe: A Neglected Story of Europeanization, ed. Dieter Gosewinkel (New York and Oxford: Berghahn, 2015).

18  Johannes Dafinger and Dieter Pohl 52 Kurt Pätzold, “Antikommunismus und Antibolschewismus als Instrumente der Kriegsvorbereitung und Kriegspolitik,” in Der nationalsozialistische Krieg, ed. Norbert Frei and Hermann Kling (Frankfurt am Main and New York: Campus, 1990). 53 Stirk, “Conceptions,” 135. 54 Iris Schröder, “Europa im Zeichen des Hakenkreuzes: Historiographische Perspektiven im Wandel – Ein Kommentar,” Zeithistorische Forschungen/Studies in Contemporary History, Online Edition 9, no. 3 (2012), URL: www.zeithistorische-forschungen.de/32012/id=4696, 2. In a similar vein, Arnd Bauerkämper has claimed that “fascist Europeanism cannot easily be dismissed as a mere propaganda maneuver.” Bauerkämper, “Ambiguities,” 44. Cf. also Antic, Conterio and Vargha, “Conclusion,” 369–371 and David Brydan, “Axis Internationalism: Spanish Health Experts and the Nazi ‘New Europe’, 1939–1945,” Contemporary European History 25, no. 2 (2016): 293–294. 55 Greiner, Wege, 197–203. 56 But see especially Kletzin, Europa; Robert Grunert, Der Europagedanke westeuro­ päischer faschistischer Bewegungen 1940–1945 (Paderborn et al.: Schöningh, 2012); Monica Fioravanzo, “Die Europakonzeptionen von Faschismus und Nationalsozialismus (1939–1943),” Vierteljahrshefte für Zeitgeschichte 58, no. 4 (2010); Benjamin Martin, The Nazi-Fascist New Order for European Culture (Cambridge/MA and London: Harvard University Press, 2016); Bernard Bruneteau, “L’Europe nouvelle” de Hitler: Une illusion des intellectuels de la France de Vichy (Monaco: Édition du Rocher, 2003); Greiner, Wege; Mark Mazower, “National Socialism and the Search for International Order,” Bulletin of the German Historical Institute Washington D.C. 50 (Spring 2012); Mazower, Empire, 553–575. On the “ambivalent and even ambiguous nature of ideas, concepts and ideologies of European unity,” cf. also Bauerkämper, “Interwar Fascism,” 57. 57 See Riccardo Bavaj, Die Ambivalenz der Moderne im Nationalsozialismus: Eine Bilanz der Forschung (Munich: Oldenbourg, 2003). 58 On the German origins, see Uwe Puschner, Die völkische Bewegung im wilhelminischen Kaiserreich: Sprache – Rasse – Religion (Darmstadt: WBG 2001). 59 Lutz Raphael, “Pluralities of National Socialist Ideology; New Perspectives on the Production and Diffusion of National Socialist Weltanschauung,” in Visions of Community in Nazi Germany: Social Engineering and Private Lives, ed. Martina Steber and Bernhard Gotto (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014), 76. 60 Ibid., 78. 61 In German: Weltanschauungsfeld. 62 Raphael, “Pluralities,” 79. 63 Ferenc Laczó used the phrase in his presentation “Indigenous Roots and Transnational Embeddedness: On the Upsurge of Hungarian anti-Semitism, 1938–1941” at the conference “Right-Wing Politics and the Rise of Antisemitism in Europe 1935–1941” in Munich, February 18–20, 2016, which will be published as an article in 2018. 64 Raphael, “Pluralities,” 78. 65 Ibid., 75. 66 Ibid., 77. 67 Ibid., 76 with regard to National Socialism. 68 Rüdiger Hachtmann, “Social Spaces of the Nazi Volksgemeinschaft in the Making: Functional Elites and Club Networking,” in Visions of Community in Nazi Germany: Social Engineering and Private Lives, ed. Martina Steber and Bernhard Gotto (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014), 202. 69 Ibid., 209. 70 Christoph Kleßmann, Die Selbstbehauptung einer Nation: Nationalsozialistische Kulturpolitik und polnische Widerstandsbewegung im Generalgouvernement 1939–1945 (Düsseldorf: Bertelsmann, 1971); Tomasz Głowiński, O nowy porządek europejski: Ewolucja hitlerowskiej propagandy politycznej wobec Polaków w Generalnym Gubernatorstwie 1939–1945 (Wrocław: Wydawnictwo Uniwersytetu Wrocławskiego, 2000). 71 Cláudia Ninhos in this volume, 128.

Introduction  19 72 73 74 75 76 77

Quoted in Holger Impekoven in this volume, 180. Eitel Monaco, quoted in Silvia Hofheinz in this volume, 196. Raimund Bauer in this volume, 243. Ibid., 246. Ibid., 248. Ibid., 247, but with other word order there.

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20  Johannes Dafinger and Dieter Pohl Das Deutsche Reich und der Zweite Weltkrieg, vol. 5: Organisation und Mobilisierung des deutschen Machtbereichs, part 2: Kriegsverwaltung, Wirtschaft und personelle Ressourcen 1942–1944/45, edited by the Militärgeschichtliches Forschungsamt. Stuttgart: Deutsche Verlagsanstalt, 1999. Durham, Martin, and Margaret Power. “Introduction.” In New Perspectives on the Transnational Right, edited by Martin Durham and Margaret Power, 1–10. Basingstoke/ Hampshire and New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2010. Elvert, Jürgen. Mitteleuropa! Deutsche Pläne zur europäischen Neuordnung (1918–1945). Stuttgart: Steiner, 1999. ———. “The ‘New European Order’ of National Socialism: Some Remarks on its Sources, Genesis and Nature.” In Anti-liberal Europe: A  Neglected Story of Europeanization, edited by Dieter Gosewinkel, 105–127. New York and Oxford: Berghahn, 2015. Engel, Kathrin. Deutsche Kulturpolitik im besetzten Paris 1940–1944: Film und Theater. Munich: Oldenbourg, 2003. Europa ist mehr als ein Kontinent: Ansprache des Reichsleiters Baldur von Schirach in der Stunde der Begründung des Europäischen Jugendverbandes in Wien am 15. September 1942. N.p., n.d. [1942]. Fioravanzo, Monica. “Die Europakonzeptionen von Faschismus und Nationalsozialismus (1939–1943).” Vierteljahrshefte für Zeitgeschichte 58, no. 4 (2010): 509–541. Freytag, Carl. Deutschlands “Drang nach Südosten”: Der Mitteleuropäische Wirtschafts­ tag und der “Ergänzungsraum Südosteuropa” 1931–1945. Vienna: Vienna University Press, 2012. Gienow-Hecht, Jessica C. E. “Introduction – On the Division of Knowledge and the Community of Thought: Culture and International History.” In Culture and International History, edited by Jessica C. E. Gienow-Hecht and Frank Schumacher, 3–26. New York and Oxford: Berghahn, 2003. Głowiński, Tomasz. O nowy porządek europejski: Ewolucja hitlerowskiej propagandy politycznej wobec Polaków w Generalnym Gubernatorstwie 1939–1945. Wrocław: Wydawnictwo Uniwersytetu Wrocławskiego, 2000. Greiner, Florian. Wege nach Europa: Deutungen eines imaginierten Kontinents in deutschen, britischen und amerikanischen Printmedien, 1914–1945. Göttingen: Wallstein, 2014. Grunert, Robert. Der Europagedanke westeuropäischer faschistischer Bewegungen 1940– 1945. Paderborn et al.: Schöningh, 2012. Hachtmann, Rüdiger. “Social Spaces of the Nazi Volksgemeinschaft in the Making: Functional Elites and Club Networking.” In Visions of Community in Nazi Germany: Social Engineering and Private Lives, edited by Martina Steber and Bernhard Gotto, 200–214. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014. Hausmann, Frank-Rutger. “Vom Strudel der Ereignisse verschlungen”: Deutsche Roma­ nistik im “Dritten Reich.” Frankfurt am Main: Vittorio Klostermann, 2000. ———. “Auch im Krieg schweigen die Musen nicht”: Die Deutschen Wissenschaftlichen Institute im Zweiten Weltkrieg. 2nd ed. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2002. ———. “Dichte, Dichter, tage nicht!” Die Europäische Schriftsteller-Vereinigung in Weimar 1941–1948. Frankfurt am Main: Vittorio Klostermann, 2004. Herren, Madeleine. “ ‘Outwardly . . . an Innocuous Conference Autority’: National Socialism and the Logistics of International Information Management.” German History 20, no. 1 (2002): 67–92. Herzstein, Robert Edwin. When Nazi Dreams Come True: The Third Reich’s Internal Struggle over the Future of Europe after a German Victory – A Look at the Nazi Mentality 1939–45. London: ABACUS, 1982.

Introduction  21 Hoensch, Jörg K. “Nationalsozialistische Europapläne im Zweiten Weltkrieg: Versuch einer Synthese.” In Mitteleuropa-Konzeptionen in der ersten Hälfte des 20. Jahrhunderts, edited by Richard G. Plaschka, Horst Haselsteiner, Arnold Suppan, Anna M. Drabek, and Birgitta Zaar, 307–325. Vienna: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, 1995. Hoffend, Andrea. Zwischen Kultur-Achse und Kulturkampf: Die Beziehungen zwischen “Drittem Reich” und faschistischem Italien in den Bereichen Medien, Kunst, Wissenschaft und Rassenfragen. Frankfurt am Main: Lang, 1998. Hoffmann, Dieter, and Mark Walker, eds. “Fremde” Wissenschaftler im Dritten Reich: Die Debye-Affäre im Kontext. Göttingen: Wallstein, 2011. Impekoven, Holger. Die Alexander von Humboldt-Stiftung und das Ausländerstudium in Deutschland 1925–1945: Von der “geräuschlosen Propaganda” zur Ausbildung der “geistigen Wehr” des “Neuen Europa.” Göttingen: Bonn University Press, 2013. Iriye, Akira. “Culture and International History.” In Explaining the History of American Foreign Relations, edited by M. J. Hogan and T. G. Paterson, 214–225. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991. Jacobsen, Hans-Adolf. Nationalsozialistische Außenpolitik 1933–1938. Frankfurt am Main et al.: Metzner 1968. Kleßmann, Christoph. Die Selbstbehauptung einer Nation: Nationalsozialistische Kulturpolitik und polnische Widerstandsbewegung im Generalgouvernement 1939–1945. Düsseldorf: Bertelsmann, 1971. Kletzin, Birgit. Europa aus Rasse und Raum: Die nationalsozialistische Idee der Neuen Ordnung. 2nd ed. Münster: LIT, 2002. Kloosterhuis, Jürgen. “Friedliche Imperialisten”: Deutsche Auslandsvereine und auswärtige Kulturpolitik, 1906–1918. 2 vols. Frankfurt am Main et al.: Lang, 1994. Koutsoukou, Fedra. Die deutsche Kulturpolitik in Griechenland in der Zeit des Nationalsozialismus (1933–1944). Berlin: Metropol, 2008. Kühberger, Christoph. “Europa als ‘Strahlenbündel nationaler Kräfte’: Zur Konzeption und Legitimation einer europäischen Zusammenarbeit auf der Gründungsfeierlichkeit des ‘Europäischen Jugendverbandes’ 1942.” Journal of European Integration History 15, no. 2 (2009): 11–28. Laughland, John. The Tainted Source: The Undemocratic Origins of the European Idea. London: Little, Brown & Company, 1997. Ledeen, Michael Arthur. Universal Fascism: The Theory and Practice of the Fascist International, 1928–1936. New York: Howard Fertig, 1972. Lehmkuhl, Ursula. “Diplomatiegeschichte als internationale Kulturgeschichte: Theoretische Ansätze und empirische Forschung zwischen Historischer Kulturwissenschaft und Soziologischem Institutionalismus.” Geschichte und Gesellschaft 27, no. 3 (2001): 394–423. Lipgens, Walter, ed. Europa-Föderationspläne der Widerstandsbewegungen 1940–1945: Eine Dokumentation. Munich: Oldenbourg, 1968. Lützeler, Paul Michael. Die Schriftsteller und Europa: Von der Romantik bis zur Gegenwart. Munich and Zurich: Piper, 1992. Madajczyk, Czesław. Faszyzm i okupacje 1938–1945: Wykonywanie okupacji przez państwa Osi w Europie. 2 vols. Poznań: Wyd. Poznańskie, 1983/84. Martin, Benjamin George. The Nazi-Fascist New Order for European Culture. Cambridge/ MA and London: Harvard University Press, 2016. ———. “ ‘European Literature’ in the Nazi New Order: The Cultural Politics of the European Writers’ Union, 1941–1943.” Journal of Contemporary History 48, no. 3 (2013): 486–508.

22  Johannes Dafinger and Dieter Pohl Mazower, Mark. Hitler’s Empire: How the Nazis Ruled Europe. New York: Penguin Press, 2008. ———. “National Socialism and the Search for International Order.” Bulletin of the German Historical Institute Washington DC 50 (Spring 2012): 9–26. Michels, Eckard. Das Deutsche Institut in Paris 1940–1944: Ein Beitrag zu den deutschfranzösischen Kulturbeziehungen und zur auswärtigen Kulturpolitik des Dritten Reiches. Stuttgart: Steiner, 1993. ———. Von der Deutschen Akademie zum Goethe-Institut: Sprach- und auswärtige Kulturpolitik 1923–1960. Munich: Oldenbourg, 2005. Morgan, Philip. Fascism in Europe, 1919–1945. London and New York: Routledge, 2003. Neulen, Hans Werner. Europa und das 3. Reich: Einigungsbestrebungen im deutschen Machtbereich 1939–45. Munich: Universitas, 1987. Ninkovich, Frank. “Culture, Power, and Civilization: The Place of Culture in the Study of International Relations.” In On Cultural Grounds: Essays in International History, edited by Robert David Johnson, 1–22. Chicago: Imprint Publication, 1994. Patel, Kiran Klaus, and Sven Reichardt. “The Dark Side of Transnationalism: Social Engineering and Nazism, 1930s–40s.” Journal of Contemporary History 51, no. 1 (2016): 3–21. Pätzold, Kurt. “Antikommunismus und Antibolschewismus als Instrumente der Kriegsvorbereitung und Kriegspolitik.” In Der nationalsozialistische Krieg, edited by Norbert Frei and Hermann Kling, 122–136. Frankfurt am Main and New York: Campus, 1990. Pryt, Karina. Befohlene Freundschaft: Die deutsch-polnischen Kulturbeziehungen 1934– 1939. Osnabrück: fibre, 2010. Puschner, Uwe. Die völkische Bewegung im wilhelminischen Kaiserreich: Sprache – Rasse – Religion. Darmstadt: WBG 2001. Raphael, Lutz. “Pluralities of National Socialist Ideology: New Perspectives on the Production and Diffusion of National Socialist Weltanschauung.” In Visions of Community in Nazi Germany: Social Engineering and Private Lives, edited by Martina Steber and Bernhard Gotto, 73–86. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014. Reinisch, Jessica. “Introduction: Agents of Internationalism.” Contemporary European History 25, no. 2 (2016): 195–205. Reulecke, Jürgen. “ ‘Baldurs Kinderfest’ oder: Die Gründung des Europäischen Jugendverbandes in Wien am 14.09.1942.” In Geschichte als Last und Chance: Festschrift für Bernd Faulenbach, edited by Franz-Josef Jelich and Stefan Goch, 315–323. Essen: Klartext, 2003. Röhr, Werner, ed. Europa unterm Hakenkreuz: Analysen, Quellen, Register. Heidelberg: Hüthig, 1996. Salewski, Michael. “Ideas of the National Socialist Government and Party.” In Documents on the History of European Integration. Vol. 1: Continental Plans for European Union 1939–1945, edited by Walter Lipgens, 37–54. Berlin and New York: de Gruyter, 1985. Schmale, Wolfgang Schmale. Geschichte Europas. Vienna, Cologne and Weimar: Böhlau, 2001. Scholten, Dirk. Sprachverbreitungspolitik des nationalsozialistischen Deutschlands. Frankfurt am Main et al.: Lang, 2000. Schreiner, Patrick. Außenkulturpolitik: Internationale Beziehungen und kultureller Austausch. Bielefeld: transcript, 2011. Schröder, Hans-Jürgen. “Südosteuropa als ‘Informal Empire’ Deutschlands 1933–1939: Das Beispiel Jugoslawien.” Jahrbücher für Geschichte Osteuropas 23 (1975): 70–96.

Introduction  23 Schröder, Iris. “Europa im Zeichen des Hakenkreuzes: Historiographische Perspektiven im Wandel – Ein Kommentar.” Zeithistorische Forschungen/Studies in Contemporary History, Online Edition, 9, no. 3 (2012), www.zeithistorische-forschungen.de/3-2012/ id=4696. Seul, Stephanie. “Europa im Wettstreit der Propagandisten: Entwürfe für ein besseres Nachkriegseuropa in der britischen Deutschlandpropaganda als Antwort auf Hitlers ‘Neuordnung Europas’ 1940–1941.” Jahrbuch für Kommunikationsgeschichte 8 (2006): 108–161. Stirk, Peter M. R. “Autoritarian and national socialist conceptions of nation, state and Europe.” In European Unity in Context: The Interwar Period, edited by Peter M. R. Stirk, 125–148. London and New York: Pinter, 1989. Teichler, Hans Joachim. Internationale Sportpolitik im Dritten Reich. Schorndorf: Hofmann, 1991. Thoß, Bruno. Der Ludendorff-Kreis 1919–1923: München als Zentrum der mitteleuropäi­ schen Gegenrevolution zwischen Revolution und Hitler-Putsch. Munich: Wölfle, 1978. Tönsmeyer, Tatjana. Das Dritte Reich und die Slowakei 1939–1945: Politischer Alltag zwischen Kooperation und Eigensinn. Paderborn: Schöningh, 2003. Trommler, Frank. Kulturmacht ohne Kompass: Deutsche auswärtige Kulturbeziehungen im 20. Jahrhundert. Cologne, Weimar and Vienna: Böhlau, 2014. Zarifi, Maria. Science, Culture and Politics: Germany’s Cultural Policy and Scientific Relations with Greece 1933–1945. Saarbrücken: VDM, 2010.

Part I

Concepts of Europe

1 “Volksgruppen Rights” versus “Minorities Protections” The evolution of German and Austrian political order paradigms from the 1920s to 1945* Ulrich Prehn This chapter looks at the evolution of “Volksgruppenrecht” (the body of laws concerning ethnonational groups and their collective rights) in German and Austrian debates from the 1920s to the end of World War II. After World War I, the New Order in Europe  – especially with the territorial changes dictated by the Paris Peace Conference treaties – intensified many of the conflicts between ethnic minorities (or to use the term of the time, “national minorities”), some of them long-standing. Criticisms (as heard not only in Germany) of the Geneva “minorities protection” mechanisms established after the First World War led to demands for the implementation of new international or supranational legal structures, as proposed during the course of the 1920s and 1930s by German activists on nationalities issues and German scholars of constitutional law, international law, and “Volkswissenschaften” (“Volk studies/sciences,” Volk meaning “people” but here with ethnonationalist connotations). In analyzing these developments, one needs to ask how much these initiatives were actually oriented (and from the very beginning) towards establishing a new political order based on inequality. This chapter will also examine the extent and ways in which these ideas influenced the planning, implementation, and legitimation of German occupational rule, especially in Central and Eastern Europe, and consider what other ideas – sometimes compatible, sometimes deviating – were being developed in Europe at the time, in terms of conceptualizing a political order based on “Volksgruppen” (or “ethnonational groups,” singular: “Volksgruppe”), and/or a “völkisch, Großraum-oriented political order” (völkisch referring to ethnonationalist ideologies, and Großraum meaning “greater region” in terms of sphere of influence).

“Artgleichheit” (“conspecificity”) instead of equality: from “Minorities Protections” to “Volksgruppen rights” As the main authority for settling minorities conflicts after World War  I, the newly established League of Nations (headquartered in Geneva) installed legal mechanisms that were meant to guarantee anti-discrimination protections to the individual1 – and not to collectives or corporate entities such as “Volksgruppen” – along with the possibility of a complaints procedure in case of violations. The main objective was to avoid granting any “collective group rights leading to the

28  Ulrich Prehn creation of ‘states within a state.’ ”2 As the political scientist Samuel Salzborn has astutely outlined, the collective rights approach is based on segregation along linguistic/cultural and ethnic lines (and sometimes “racial” ones too), striving for a “model based on special laws for ethnic collectives” based on these differentiation strategies and “special statuses.”3 It is certainly true that the League of Nations, in establishing minorities protection frameworks, was not capable of solving every conflict arising from the incompatibility between one paradigm based on nationstates and another paradigm based on linguistic, cultural, or “Volkstum” membership (Volkstum or “folkdom” refers to the entire utterances of an ethnic collective over time). However, German and Austrian revisionists and “Volkstum”-oriented political activists were particularly outspoken in lambasting the “Geneva system” from the very start as representing a despised liberalism fixated on nation-states and an internationalism based on “Gleichmacherei” (“forcing all to be the same”), which they branded as being too “Western” (as opposed to Central European) as well as “formaldemokratisch” (“democratic in form only”). For example, Karl Christian von Loesch, departmental chair of Volkstum Studies and Volksgruppen Issues at the Foreign Studies Faculty of the University of Berlin since 1940,4 spoke disparagingly in 1935 of a “liberal age, with its disorderliness in the relations between Völker, which the Geneva States’ Club was incapable of resolving” (Völker is the plural of Volk). According to him, it was only through “ ‘thinking in terms of Völker’ and National Socialism’s fundamental rejection of assimilation” that a “suitable foundation has been created . . . for the Völker themselves to become the building blocks of political structures facilitating the greater good and stability.”5 In a speech delivered at the Twelfth European Nationalities’ Congress (held in Geneva on 16 and 17 September  1936), the lawyer Hans Neuwirth (a politician who in 1935 had switched from the Christian Socialist Party to Konrad Henlein’s Sudeten German Party in the Czechoslovak parliament) was in agreement when he called for the “recognition of Volkspersönlichkeiten [Volk as a collective person], as the foundation for further European development,” while also stressing reassuringly that he did not mean “anything like the changing of a territorial status,” but instead new forms of constitutional law and international law – which was something no less radical.6 During the 1920s, as questions of political order were being considered by German and Austrian scholars and activists addressing nationalities issues, they developed the idea of “Konnationale” (“co-nationals”), which emphasized the ties between groups from ostensibly the same “nation” or “Volkstum”. The proponents of this “co-nationals” concept were striving to establish it as a new, internationally binding legal paradigm,7 which would benefit first and foremost the various German “Volksgruppen” that existed in other state territories. This was a legal principle that was no longer based purely on relations between states, but one that also considered the links between “Volksgruppen”, a paradigm partially rooted in notions of the medieval Personenverbandsstaat (a state prioritizing feudalistic interpersonal obligations over strictly territorial claims) as well as other older traditions of natural law, particularly those found in regions of German influence and settlement. “Deutschtum” activists (“German-dom” activists, who promoted

“Volksgruppen Rights”  29 ethnic German interests) viewed legislated agreements on the cultural autonomy of constituent nationalities (such as the one implemented in Estonia in 1925) as a fundamental legal instrument towards realizing a “supranational Volksgemeinschaft” (the latter term referring to an “ethnonational community”).8 The reorientation of German initiatives addressing nationalities policies became clear at the Berliner Schlussbesprechung (“Berlin Final Discussion”),9 which took place in March 1928 with over 170 participants representing various “Deutschtum” associations, scholarly institutions, and governmental bodies, thereby concluding a longer series of “policy consultations on eastern issues” that had begun in early 1927. On 17 March  1928, the participants of the Berliner Schlussbesprechung ratified their “European goals,” declaring that “Just as the eighteenth century brought recognition of ‘human rights’ for every individual [note the quotation marks], so must the twentieth century bring recognition of ‘Volk rights’ for every Volk entity.”10 The ideas outlined here were in fact very much “Deutschtumcentric,” as made clear by a particular passage in the “Basic Principles for Future Work in the East” formulated shortly before, which the Deutscher Schutzbund für die Grenz- und Auslandsdeutschen (German Defence League for Frontier Germans and Germans Abroad) had labeled “Not for publication!” The second part of these “Basic Principles” stated that one urgent task was to build legal structures that more strongly arise from German legal thought and the German position of responsibility within the Central European region. The groundwork for this projected reform of the state paradigm should be laid through the corresponding intellectual swaying of public opinion in all countries that come into consideration.11 In right-wing intellectual circles in Germany after World War I – and even to a large extent within its bourgeois liberal camp – the idea of the “chosenness” of the German Volk, with its “central position” in Europe, was as equally widespread as the idea of a German “Central European” mission, which involved the “selfdefensive struggle” against Bolshevism and/or against the self-determination rights of so-called small Völker and nations.12 An example of this can be found in a 1928 magazine article by Rudolf Brandsch, chair of the Verband der deutschen Volksgruppen in Europa (Association of German Ethnic Groups in Europe). In his view, the German Volksgruppen were chosen by destiny to form a strong nucleus – in the midst of the onslaught of eastern chaos, in the midst of impotent Kleinstaaterei [“small-state fragmentation”] and the most deplorable of economic and cultural turmoil – so that it can bring together these various energies that will form, in the future Europe, the bulwark of law, justice and freedom.13 The idea of “Volksgruppen rights” became increasingly important in Germany’s domestic politics too, even before the National Socialist rise to power. For example, the parliamentary contingent of the Deutschnationale Volkspartei

30  Ulrich Prehn (German National People’s Party) proposed the following resolution on 10 December 1930: The Reichstag should resolve: [to petition] the Reich government to appoint a committee . . . that, in view of the upcoming negotiations of the European Committee at the League of Nations, will take up the drafting of legislation (in accordance with Article 4 of the Reich constitution) for those German Volksgruppen that have been assigned by international treaties to the state of an alien Volk. This legislation is to safeguard the rights that the Volksgruppen and their members are entitled to, not only in regards to the potential relationships between them and the state of their Volk, but also between them and the alien state.14 Alongside these efforts to draw up legal frameworks for relations between nationalities, Völker, and states, there was also a tendency among ethnopolitical thinkers to invoke the trailblazing role of Germans in the “Volkstum struggle.” For example, in 1932 the sociologist Max Hildebert Boehm (who founded a “Volk theory” largely argued along ethnic/cultural lines)15 went so far as to describe German “Volksgruppen” as “the Freikorps [volunteer troops] of the militant Volk concept in Europe and the world.”16 However, the real militancy of German “Volksgruppen” in Europe would only emerge after Germany’s withdrawal from the League of Nations in October 1933, and further increase after the so-called Sudeten crisis.17 In his agenda-defining essay entitled “Minorities Protections or Volksgruppen Rights?” Gustav Adolf Walz  – the rector of Breslau University and a National Socialist scholar of constitutional and international law  – highlighted the basic political and philosophical contradiction between the two legal paradigms cited in his essay title: “In opposition to Gleichartigkeit [equalness] as the dominant principle that structures the liberal world, there now arises Artgleichheit [conspecificity] as the grouping principle of the emerging völkisch world.” He underlined a “justice” principle (ostensibly specific to National Socialism) that, “proceeding from the differences between Volksgruppen, demands justice for each Volksgruppe, asserting as its first demand the legal recognition of the special nature of each Volksgruppe.” Against the assimilationist tendencies of earlier times, Walz put forward the “principle of disassimilation as the basis for a new life order (settling the Jewish question in National Socialist Germany),” as well as the idea of “Bodenständigkeit” (“groundedness” or “rooted-in-soil-ness”); in his view, the “new world paradigm” of National Socialism – in insisting on disassimilation in the face of allegedly non-“bodenständig” Völker (peoples not “rooted to a soil”) – is committed to a “nature-given restriction to one’s own Volksboden” (or “soil of the Volk”).18 However, Walz also defended the so-called Third Reich against accusations of “territorial encapsulation and of rigid border delineations” by outlining pliable solutions for a future ethnopolitical order in Europe; ideas like this, as intellectual and/or propaganda motifs, would eventually play an important role in the conceptualization of a “Greater Germanic Reich” (as championed by the

“Volksgruppen Rights”  31 SS in particular), as well as of an alliance between the German Reich and other “artverwandt” (“congeneric”) European Völker in the anti-Bolshevist struggle: “In the future, the persuasive attractions of living in the political/cultural world of a Volksgruppe will also enable the Abstammungsverwandten [the genealogically related] among other Volksgruppen to conclusively define their territory on their own terms.”19 In Nazi Germany, the most important think-tank for these topics was the Ausschuss für Nationalitätenrecht (Committee for Nationalities Law), created in 1935 within the Academy for German Law (which itself was launched in 1933 by Hans Frank).20 Alongside the aforementioned “Volkstum” scholars Karl Christian von Loesch, Max Hildebert Boehm, and Gustav Adolf Walz, a key role on this committee was played by Werner Hasselblatt, a Baltic German legal consultant for German “Volksgruppen” in Europe (who also functioned as the de facto executive director of the Association of German Ethnic Groups in Europe).21 He penned a series of memoranda on ethnopolitical questions, initially intended for the committee, but sometimes also circulated within various Reich ministries. In any case, the Committee for Nationalities Law always included ministerial representation, with members like: Werner Essen, at first a senior civil servant in the Reich Interior Ministry and later a departmental head in the Reichskommissariat Ostland; Günter Stier, departmental head of Central Department  I (for “Men­ scheneinsatz” or “human resources deployment”) at the staff central office of the Reichskommissar für die Festigung deutschen Volkstums (RKFDV or Reich Commissioner for the Consolidation of German Nationhood); and SS-Oberführer Hermann Behrends, a doctor of law who was previously departmental head of the SD-Inland (Security Service of the SS) until transferring in 1937 to become staff leader and deputy director at the Volksdeutsche Mittelstelle (Ethnic German Liaison Office), and who later became chair of the Committee for Nationalities Law in August  1938; in addition, there was regular participation by officials from the Interior Ministry, Foreign Office, Propaganda Ministry, Justice Ministry, and Education Ministry, as well as personnel from the Nazi Party’s foreign section.22 At a meeting of the Committee for Nationalities Law on 31 October  1936, Werner Hasselblatt stated with satisfaction “that National Socialist Germany no longer equates state citizenship with Volk membership. Therefore, the German Reich must decide for itself, and in agreement with other states, on how to regulate the question of Volk membership.”23 Concrete discussions revolved around whether “subjective” determinants or “objective” ones – meaning subjective selfavowals as opposed to objective criteria such as language, religious confession, or Abstammung (“descent” as a synonym for “race”) – should be the decisive factor in defining a person’s “Volk membership.” According to the final resolution, The committee recommends . . . the regulating of Volk membership on the basis of personal avowal (the “subjective principle”) as opposed to external assessment (the “objective principle”). Speaking in favor of this is firstly the need to consider the many borderline cases whose clarification is possible

32  Ulrich Prehn only through this method; but the main factor is the need to protect German Volksgruppen by raising a barrier against the assimilation efforts of statedominating Völker.24 With this vote, the committee was still largely in agreement with the position also taken by the European Nationalities’ Congress, which had been established in 1925. However, it was also noted (not in this “final resolution,” but instead within the discussion of a “ ‘subjective’ determination process versus an ‘objective’ one”) that the “self-avowal principle” needed to be “complemented with racial legislation, one where it would be possible for the Artverwandte [congenerics] to make a choice, but the option of switching to the foreign-blooded would be just as impossible as the reverse case.”25 Decisive turning points in the German and Austrian debate surrounding “Volksgruppen law” as an instrument for structuring the international order were represented by the annexation of the “Sudetenland” (a recently coined term) and the subsequent “Agreement between the German Reich and Czechoslovakia concerning the Option Question and Volksgruppen Protection” of 20 November 1938 (the “option” referring to choice of allegiance),26 as well as the establishment of the Protectorate of Bohemia and Moravia, proclaimed in 1939 as a kind of Reichs-Nebenland or “Reich subsidiary country.” As early as 1938, Werner Hasselblatt had cited the “strengthening of the German Reich” as the most important determinant in “considerations of future Volksgruppen law.”27 Besides Theodor Veiter (a legal expert on issues of autonomy and “Volksgruppen law”), one of the most important Austrian experts in this field was Adolf Julius Merkl,28 a Viennese constitutional and administrative law expert who one year later praised the Rechtsordnung (“legal order”) of the “Protectorate” as the concrete realization of a “true Volksgruppen constitution,” which set an “example” that “German and non-German Volksgruppen could point to when demanding from their host country a true Volksgruppen constitution for themselves.”29 But in principle, these legalistic interpretations (largely aimed at legitimization) and ostensibly exemplary blueprints were to become worthless scraps of paper after the German invasion of Poland and the establishment of the General Government there. Although German voices had previously called for “Volksgruppen law” as a future tool for structuring the European order, spending more than a decade discussing its details, this was never actually put into practice – at least not in a universally applied, all-embracing form. Instead, the main task for the Committee for Nationalities Law, outlined in December  1939 by its chairman Hermann Behrends, would be as follows: [In the end,] it is not about whether alien minorities can live comfortably and pleasantly with us, perhaps even sheltered like in a zoo; instead, [it is about] arranging our Lebensraum [living space] for the German Volk as required, and it is clear that if alien Volksgruppen cause difficulties for us, we ultimately have to act, even with brutality. Our task is to dress up this eternal Volkstum struggle in such a way that outside forces cannot do anything against it.30

“Volksgruppen Rights”  33 There were certainly other voices  – including German ones  – warning against such tendencies. After the establishment of the Protectorate of Bohemia and Moravia, the liberal democrat Paul Schiemann – a former leader of the German contingent in the Saeima (Latvia’s parliament) – wrote two newspaper articles in which he warned of the de facto end of the European nationalities movement31 while also clearly diagnosing the true nature of German power politics and expansionism, which had been dressed up as the victorious implementation of “Volksgruppen rights”: While minority rights are aimed at achieving cultural autonomy, Volksgruppen “rights” actually serve as an emissary for imperial power ambitions. Minority rights are a matter of conviction; Volksgruppen “rights” are dictated. Naturally only to the weak; but this is something that could explode any state’s order.32 During World War II, newer debates on the establishment of “Großraum dominion” and a “New Europe” or “New Order,”33 along with practical experiences gathered by Germany’s occupying forces, made the basic blueprints for a universally applicable European “Volksgruppen law” (which was still being advocated as late as 1937, for example by Herbert Klauss in his law dissertation at Heidelberg University) obsolete in practice, and even a hindrance in principle.34 In 1941, Karl Christian von Loesch dryly observed that “a universal, ostensibly uniform Volksgruppen law” would not be a “desirable goal,” since “every Volksgruppe . . . has differing needs and claims.” But at the time, he still described “Volksgruppen law and nationalities law” in general as being on the rise.35 However, there would soon be an attempt by the SS and SD – especially by Departments III and VI of the Reich Security Main Office (SD-Inland and SD-Ausland, respectively, the domestic and foreign divisions of the Security Service) – to bring the agencies and scholarly institutes responsible for “Volk research” all under the supervision of RKFDV. However, it was not until the spring of 1944 that the SS finally succeeded in its “takeover” of the “Volk research” institutes36 (which had previously answered to the Reich Interior Ministry), thus taking control of the intellectual groundwork underpinning “pan-Germanic education policy” (i.e., the propaganda fed to all ethnic Germans). In any case (and as will be shown in the final section), the ethnopolitical experts of the time put everything into remaining “in play”, in terms of maintaining their influence in this discursive arena, and as closely as possible to the power centers accessible to them in the Nazi state. Since there was no longer a desire for a universally applicable “Volksgruppen law,” energies now turned to formulating a multitiered law for the annexed territories, one that distinguished between the “German-blooded” and “alien Volk members,” thus formulating “special rights” beyond all international conventions.37 However, the concept of “Volksgruppen law” did not just disappear from the scholarly canon – on the contrary. In fact, a heated controversy pitting the constitutional law scholar Carl Schmitt against a group of SD and SS intellectuals (including Werner Best, Reinhard Höhn, and

34  Ulrich Prehn Wilhelm Stuckart, all doctors of law and/or senior administrative officials, who created their own mouthpiece in 1941 with the magazine Reich – Volksordnung – Lebensraum)38 – would add fresh fuel to the fire in the debate surrounding the future establishment of a new völkisch order (and legal system) in a Europe under German domination.

Ethnopolitics and “völkisch law” in German-occupied Europe While there had already been criticism of the supposedly preferential treatment (in terms of law and geopolitics/territory) given to the “small” Völker in the post-war order after Versailles, German and Austrian “Volk studies” scholars now brought into play a counter-concept that aimed at “Großraum”-oriented solutions, especially after the German annexing and “Angliederung” (“incorporation”) of Czech and Polish territories. This is illustrated by the example of Karl Gottfried Hugelmann, an Austrian pro-Anschluss politician who in 1934 as a professor of German legal history and Austrian constitutional law at the University of Vienna had been arrested for National Socialist activities and later released, only to be appointed in the same year as departmental chair for German legal history, public law, and canon law at the University of Münster in Germany.39 In his 1940 essay on “Legal Structures for Protecting Volksgruppen,” Hugelmann was referencing the German-Czech relationship in particular when he stressed that “the principle of the right to existence for all Völker” needs to be “supplemented by yet another, namely the leadership of certain regions by the Great Völker, who have been so ordained not only because of their size, but also their historical achievement.”40 Such claims were undoubtedly inspired by a lecture on “Großraum Principles in International Law” delivered at a legal scholars’ conference by the prominent German scholar of constitutional law, Carl Schmitt, on 1 April 1939 ( just a few days after the German invasion of Prague),41 as well as his much-discussed publication of the same year, “Großraum Political Order in International Law with Intervention Ban for Raumfremd Powers” (raumfremd meaning “alien to the region”). However, Schmitt’s insistence on the importance of international law, his rejection of the category of “Volk” as a central concept in international law (matched by his adherence to the importance of the state), along with his invocation of the “empire” concept in considering how to structure the regional and ethnopolitical order of the German Reich within Europe, all earned him considerable criticism (as convincingly described by the historian Ulrich Herbert) from the SD intellectual circle surrounding SS-Brigadeführer Werner Best.42 Best’s thesis was that “völkisch thought” was “organic thought,” and that the driving purpose behind both “positive and negative relationships between Völker” was always “the Völker themselves as individual organisms.” As a result, his criticism of Schmitt culminated in the following uncompromising verdict: “In its conduct towards other Völker, no Volk can let itself be bound to rules that would exercise legal force without consideration of the existential mission of the Volk.”43 Thus,

“Volksgruppen Rights”  35 in the eyes of völkisch-oriented intellectuals in Nazi Germany, international law had become obsolete as a legitimate authority for structuring the political and legal order.44 In discussing the power and roles assigned to the German Volk (as the “leading Volk”) and the other Völker (in subordinate roles “befitting” them) within the European Großraum, seemingly in accordance with the “law of nature,” the implicitly threatening tone in Best’s words speaks volumes: In the European “Großraum order,” it would not be possible for any “regionally included Volk to detach itself. Resistance will mostly just lead to a more passive form of inescapable cooperation.”45 As late as January 1942, the international law scholar Hermann Raschhofer46 used the following euphemistic phrasing to contextualize the significance of the “new Volksgruppen law” as seen in the various territories of Eastern and Central Europe under German occupation: This is what the new Volksgruppen law looks like, the law of corporately constituted völkisch special groups, sharing a structural context with the legal entities of the Protectorate of Bohemia and Moravia, the Nebenland of the General Government, and the new order in the eastern territories, as a region where the structural transformation of the political unit from State to Reich is particularly manifest.47 What was puffed up here as an (ostensible) “law of corporately constituted völkisch special groups” was actually better suited to disguising the real goals of National Socialism’s radical new-order utopias, which also helped shape the “Volkstum policies” and occupation practices of the General Government and the Protectorate. For the elites of Nazi officialdom and their academic and political advisors, references to “Volksgruppen law” had become just a rhetorical tool for legitimizing their völkisch, “Großraum-oriented” policy of (securing) domination in a “Greater Germanic Reich,” and for exploiting those who did not fall under the categories of “German blood”; meanwhile, the fate of those declared “blutliche Artverwandte” (“congenerics by blood”) could vary on a case-by-case basis, and depending on occupied territory. In November 1941 ( just two months before Raschhofer’s analysis of the “new Volksgruppen law”), Werner Hasselblatt submitted his “memorandum on the facts and dangers of the Völker policy situation after the victory,” largely written in a warning tone, seeming more dystopian than utopian. Here, it was no longer about the German Reich as a “Volk unter Völkern” (a “Volk among other Völker”) as was still under discussion in the 1920s (and reflected in the title of an important anthology featuring prominent German scholars on “Volkstum” and population issues);48 instead, it was about a “Volk über Völkern” (a “Volk above other Völker”) within a European post-war order, a “new Völker order” that was “freed from the ‘thinking in states’ of previous foreign policymaking. We need it [the new Völker order] because we have no wish to turn our realm of control into a melting pot as exemplified by North America.” In particular, Hasselblatt warned of an “invasion” by “many millions of non-Germans into the Blutbestand [blood stock]” of the

36  Ulrich Prehn German Volk, and the “contamination” of the “Volksboden” – “not only by aliens who are seemingly or factually ready to change Volk identity” but also by non-German millions who remain conscious of their Volk identity.  .  .  . Finally, this is also to point out the danger we may be propagating in the wide eastern territories under our administration. A very well-considered human economy in terms of deployment in non-German areas will be needed, wrote Hasselblatt in concluding his threat scenario.49 As Hasselblatt merely hinted at, “very different structures” would need to be found for the “self-administration” of Völker who had forfeited their own states under the occupation regime, as well as their “representation with regard to the German Reich and Volk.”50 However, such structures were to remain far less than, and/or quite different from, the “Volksgruppen rights” that had been advocated for decades by German legal theorists, “Volkstum” politicians, and “Volk studies” scholars, let alone the nationalities rights or even autonomy rights that had been pursued by European minorities activists.

Notes * Translated from the German by Wayne Yung, [email protected]. 1 For an insightful comparison of these two opposing approaches (individual law versus collective law), cf. Samuel Salzborn, “ ‘Volksgruppenrecht’: Zum Transfer(versuch) eines politischen Paradigmas in das europäische Minderheitenrecht,” in Rechtstransfer in der Geschichte: Legal Transfer in History, ed. Vanessa Duss et  al. (Munich: Meidenbauer, 2006). Cf. also Samuel Salzborn, Ethnisierung der Politik: Theorie und Geschichte des Volksgruppenrechts in Europa (Frankfurt am Main and New York: Campus, 2005). 2 See Martin Scheuermann, Minderheitenschutz contra Konfliktverhütung? Die Minderheitenpolitik des Völkerbundes in den zwanziger Jahren (Marburg: Verlag HerderInstitut, 2000), 29–30. 3 See Salzborn, “ ‘Volksgruppenrecht’,” 44. 4 On von Loesch cf.: Hans-Werner Retterath, s.v. “Karl Christian von Loesch,” in Handbuch der völkischen Wissenschaften: Personen – Institutionen – Forschungsprogramme – Stiftungen, ed. Ingo Haar and Michael Fahlbusch in collaboration with Matthias Berg (Munich: Saur, 2008), 386–389; also Ulrich Prehn, Max Hildebert Boehm: Radikales Ordnungsdenken vom Ersten Weltkrieg bis in die Bundesrepublik (Göttingen: Wallstein, 2013), 480–481. 5 Karl C. von Loesch, “Völker sind nicht gleich,” Deutsches Grenzland: Jahrbuch des Instituts für Grenz- und Auslandstudien 2 (1936): 44. The tone of such denunciations would intensify considerably in the following years. 6 Cf. Hans Neuwirth, “Reale Rechtsstaatlichkeit – Rechtspersönlichkeit der Volksgruppen,” Nation und Staat 10 (1936/37): 14. On page 15, he further specifies who these “Volkspersönlichkeiten” are, namely the “existent Volksgruppen.” 7 In a lecture on “East and West German Border Tasks” delivered at a conference of the Deutscher Schutzbund (German Defence League) held in Salzburg in 1929, the “Volkstum” scholar Max Hildebert Boehm argued for taking the “Volkstum struggle” and “pressing it into new legal structures.” In doing so, he outlined a territory stretching in the west “from the North Sea coast to inside Switzerland” and in the east “from the Gulf of Finland to the Balkans,” a territory whose shared “Central European

“Volksgruppen Rights”  37

8

9

10

11 12

13 14 15 16

17

destiny” was a “symbiosis of states and Völker.” Boehm’s lecture is reprinted in Die 10. Jahrestagung des Deutschen Schutzbundes, Salzburg, 14. bis 16. Mai 1929 (Berlin: Deutscher Schutzbund-Verlag, s.a.) (printed as lecture notes), 60–62, quote: 61. This publication is held at: Federal Archives Berlin (Bundesarchiv Berlin, BArch Berlin), R 57/3150. On this, cf. for example: Hans Gerber, “Kulturautonomie als Eigenart minderheiten­ rechtlicher Ordnung und ihre Verwirklichung nach der estnischen Verfassung,” in Festschrift für Ludwig Traeger zum 70. Geburtstage am 10. Juni 1926: Überreicht von der juristischen Fakultät der Universität Marburg (Berlin: Stilke, 1926); also Werner Hasselblatt, “Hat sich die Kulturautonomie in Estland bewährt?” Nation und Staat 4 (1930/31). Max Hildebert Boehm praised his fellow Baltic German, Werner Hasselblatt, as “the real creator” of the Estonian autonomy law: cf. Max Hildebert Boehm, “Werner Hasselblatt: Dem Andenken an diesen Kämpfer für das Recht der deutschen Minderheiten,” Jahrbuch des baltischen Deutschtums 6 (1959): 72. On the “Berliner Schlussbesprechung” and its background history, cf. Ingo Haar, Historiker im Nationalsozialismus: Die deutsche Geschichtswissenschaft und der “Volks­ tumskampf” im Osten, 2nd ed. (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2000), 63–64; also Prehn, Max Hildebert Boehm, 175–179. Federal Archives Koblenz (Bundesarchiv Koblenz, BArch Koblenz), Kl. Erw. 309/1, fol. 11–14, fol. 12. A report on the “Berliner Schlussbesprechung” and the preceding “policy consultations on eastern issues” is reprinted in: Reinhard Opitz, ed., Europastrategien des deutschen Kapitals 1900–1945 (Cologne: Pahl-Rugenstein, 1977), 538–543. “Grundsätze für künftige Ostarbeit. II. Teil (Südöstliches Mitteleuropa),” Political Archive of the Federal Foreign Office, Berlin (Politisches Archiv des Auswärtigen Amts, PA AA), R 60.318, fol. K655908–655915, quote: fol. K655909. Writers like Max Hildebert Boehm often used such belittling terminology; cf. Max Hildebert Boehm, Europa irredenta: Eine Einführung in das Nationalitätenproblem der Gegenwart (Berlin: Hobbing, 1923), 9. Karl C. von Loesch wrote of “small and dwarf Völker.” Cf. idem, “Die Zukunft des Volksgruppenrechtes: Eine grundsätzliche Betrachtung,” Jahrbuch der Akademie für Deutsches Recht 4 (1937): 177. Rudolf Brandsch, “Die deutschen Volksgruppen als Mitträger einer europäischen Neuentwicklung,” Volk und Reich 4 (1928): 117. Verhandlungen des Reichstags. V. Wahlperiode 1930, vol. 449: Anlagen Nr. 401 bis 750 zu den Stenographischen Berichten (Berlin: s.n., 1932), no. 531, www.reichstags ­protokolle.de/Blatt2_w5_bsb00000133_00159.html. On Boehm, cf. my own biographical study on his intellectual evolution: Prehn, Max Hildebert Boehm. See Max Hildebert Boehm, Das eigenständige Volk: Volkstheoretische Grundlagen der Ethnopolitik und Geisteswissenschaften (Göttingen: Braumüller, 1932), 204–205. In contrast, the Verband der deutschen Volksgruppen in Europa (Association of German Ethnic Groups in Europe) was still emphasizing as late as February 1935 the peaceful, constructive nature of German “Volksgruppen” politics: “The German Volksgruppen are an element of order within their states, and with the rights they are struggling for, they will successfully perform a bridging service that reaches from Volk to Volk and from state to state.” See (author unnamed) “Ausschusssitzung des Verbandes der deutschen Volksgruppen,” Nation und Staat 8 (1934/35): 409. The politics of the various German “Volksgruppen” within individual countries, as well as the degree of their radicality, cannot be discussed at length here. More thorough details can be found in Sabine Bamberger-Stemmann, Der Europäische Natio­ nal­itätenkongress 1923 bis 1938: Nationale Minderheiten zwischen Lobbyistentum und Großmachtinteressen (Marburg: Verlag Herder-Institut, 2000), 265–274. An early, very subjectively colored (and occasionally apologetic) assessment by one eyewitness is offered by Wilhelm von Rüdiger, Aus dem letzten Kapitel deutsch-baltischer Geschichte in Lettland 1919–1939, part 2 (Hannover-Wülfel: self-published, 1955),

38  Ulrich Prehn 62–78. Of a similar tenor, but more strongly emphasizing the radical tendencies of the younger generation within the “German Volksgruppen” in retrospect: Hermann Ullmann, Pioniere Europas: Die volksdeutsche Bewegung und ihre Lehren (Munich: Ackermann-Gemeinde, 1956), 31–32, 34–35. 18 G. A. Walz, “Minderheitenrecht oder Volksgruppenrecht?” Völkerbund und Völkerrecht 3 (1936/37): 598. 19 Ibid., 599. 20 On this committee and its work, cf. Dennis LeRoy Anderson, “The Academy for German Law, 1933–1944” (PhD diss., University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, 1982), I: 454 et seqq.; also Prehn, Max Hildebert Boehm, 337 et seqq. 21 On Hasselblatt, cf. Jörg Hackmann, “Werner Hasselblatt: Von der estländischen Kulturautonomie zur nationalsozialistischen Bevölkerungspolitik,” in Deutschbalten, Weimarer Republik und Drittes Reich, ed. Michael Garleff (Cologne, Weimar and Vienna: Böhlau, 2008). 22 Cf. for example minutes of the constituting meeting of the Committee for Nationalities Law on 22 August 1935 (with appendix: List of participants) PA AA, R 60.490. 23 Minutes of the meeting in Weimar on 31 October and 1 November 1936, marked “Confidential!” BArch Berlin, R 61/235, fol. 1–14, fol. 1. 24 Ibid., fol. 13 (emphasis in original). 25 Ibid., fol. 2 (emphasis in original). 26 Cf. (author unnamed) “Abkommen zwischen dem Deutschen Reich und der TschechoSlowakei zur Optionsfrage und zum Volksgruppenschutz,” Nation und Staat 12 (1938/39). 27 Werner Hasselblatt, “Die politischen Elemente eines werdenden Volksgruppenrechtes,” Jahrbuch der Akademie für Deutsches Recht 5 (1938): 16. 28 On Veiter cf. Salzborn, Ethnisierung, 112–113, 118–117, 159, 204–205; on Merkl cf. Alexander Pinwinkler, “ ‘Minderheiten’ und ‘Volksgruppen’ in rechts- und staatswissenschaftlichen Diskursen in Österreich, circa 1918–1938,” in Das Andere denken: Repräsentationen von Migration in Westeuropa und den USA im 20. Jahrhundert, ed. Gabriele Metzler (Frankfurt am Main and New York: Campus, 2013), 73–74. 29 Adolf Merkl, “Zur Typenlehre des Volkstumsrechtes: Eine Ergänzung,” Zeitschrift für öffentliches Recht 19 (1939): 543. Furthermore, on the options for shaping a “Volksgruppe constitution” along authoritarian or democratic lines, cf. idem, “Zur Typenlehre des Volkstumsrechtes,” Zeitschrift für öffentliches Recht 19 (1939): 135–136. 30 Minutes of the meeting in Berlin on Dec 8, 1939, BArch Berlin, R 61/236, fol. 1–34, fol. 5. 31 Paul Schiemann, “Ende der Nationalitätenbewegung?” Der Deutsche in Polen, no. 15, April 4, 1939. On Schiemann cf. John Hiden, Defender of Minorities: Paul Schiemann, 1876–1944 (London: Hurst, 2004). 32 “Volksgruppen‘recht’ und Hitlereid. Stets einsatzbereit  – wofür?” Der Deutsche in Polen, no. 12, March 19, 1939. (emphasis in original). The writer of the article is not explicitly named, but Schiemann’s authorship is very likely. 33 Still relevant here: Lothar Gruchmann, Nationalsozialistische Großraumordnung: Die Konstruktion einer “deutschen Monroe-Doktrin” (Stuttgart: Deutsche Verlags-Anstalt, 1962); on Nazi propaganda citing a “New Europe” and/or a “New Order,” cf. Wilfried Loth, “Rettungsanker Europa? Deutsche Europa-Konzeptionen vom Dritten Reich bis zur Bundesrepublik,” in Ende des Dritten Reiches  – Ende des Zweiten Weltkriegs: Eine perspektivische Rückschau, ed. Hans-Erich Volkmann (Munich and Zurich: Piper, 1995), 201 et seqq. 34 Herbert Klauss, Nationalsozialistisches Volksgruppenrecht (Würzburg: Mayr, 1937), 107. 35 Karl C. von Loesch, “Volkstumskunde und Volksgruppenfragen,” Jahrbuch für Politik und Auslandskunde (1941): 93–94.

“Volksgruppen Rights”  39 36 See (circular) memo of the RFSS/RKFDV, RSHA III/VI, signed on behalf of SSStandartenführer Dr. Ehlich, (duplicate) to the publishing office in Bautzen, Saxony, dated 30 March  1944, with attachment: Comment on the working conference of research institutes and publishing offices, held in Prague on 9 and 10 March  1944, BArch Berlin, R 153/1283. 37 On the Nazi practice of constructing the “incorporated eastern territories” (i.e., Poland’s western regions that were annexed directly into the German Reich by the Führer decree of 8 October 1939) as a space where international law no longer applied and the treatment of the local population was instead considered an internal matter of the Reich within its “Großraum,” and also on the constant violations of international law otherwise committed by the German regime on the territory of the “General Government” (i.e., occupied Polish territory not directly annexed into the German Reich), cf. Diemut Majer, “Die Perversion des Völkerrechts unter dem Nationalsozialismus,” Jahrbuch des Instituts für Deutsche Geschichte XIV (1985): 327–328. 38 Cf. Ulrich Herbert, Best: Biographische Studien über Radikalismus, Weltanschauung und Vernunft, 1903–1989 (Bonn: Dietz, 1996), 291, 297. 39 On Hugelmann cf. Prehn, Max Hildebert Boehm, 478–479. 40 See Karl Gottfried Hugelmann, “Rechtliche Formen der Volksgruppensicherung,” Zeitschrift für die gesamte Staatswissenschaft 100 (1940): 421 (emphasis in original). 41 The conference of the Arbeitsgemeinschaft Völkerrecht der Reichsfachgruppe Hochschullehrer im Nationalsozialistischen Rechtswahrerbund (International Law Workgroup of the Reich Professional Group of University Teachers of the National Socialist Association of Legal Professionals) held in connection to the twenty-fifth anniversary of the Kiel Institute for Politics and International Law. Cf.: Dr. jur. habil. Dietze, “Politische Völkerrechtswissenschaft,” Deutsches Recht: Zentralorgan des NationalSozialistischen Rechtswahrerbundes 9 (1939): 703–704. 42 Cf. Herbert, Best, 271 et seqq. 43 Werner Best, “Rechtsbegriff und ‘Völkerrecht’,” Deutsches Recht 9 (1939): 1347–1348. 44 See Werner Best, “Nochmals: Völkische Grossraumordnung statt: ‘Völkerrechtliche’ Grossraumordnung!” Deutsches Recht 11 (1941): 1534: “Anyone pursuing the objective truth must come to the conclusion that the concept of ‘international law’ is now dead, ever since the concept of Großraumordnung [Großraum order] was created by the latest developments.” 45 Idem, “Völkische Grossraumordnung,” Deutsches Recht 10 (1940): 1007. 46 On Raschhofer cf. Prehn, Max Hildebert Boehm, 226–229. 47 Hermann Raschhofer, “Entwicklung und Funktion des neuen Volksgruppenrechts,” Zeitschrift für ausländisches öffentliches Recht und Völkerrecht 11 (1942/43): 444. 48 Karl C. von Loesch, ed. in collaboration with A. Hillen Ziegfeld, Volk unter Völkern (Breslau: Hirt, 1925). 49 Werner Hasselblatt: Summary of the memorandum on the facts and dangers of the Völker policy situation after the victory, early November 1941, PA AA, R 100.974, fol. D653086–653091, fol. D653086 (emphasis by U.P.) and fol. D653089f. 50 Ibid., fol. D653088.

Bibliography Archives BArch Berlin: Federal Archives Berlin (Bundesarchiv Berlin), Berlin. BArch Koblenz: Federal Archives Koblenz (Bundesarchiv Koblenz), Koblenz. PA AA: Political Archive of the Federal Foreign Office (Politisches Archiv des Auswärtigen Amts), Berlin.

40  Ulrich Prehn Books and articles “Abkommen zwischen dem Deutschen Reich und der Tschecho-Slowakei zur Optionsfrage und zum Volksgruppenschutz.” Nation und Staat 12 (1938/39): 197–199. Anderson, Dennis Le Roy. “The Academy for German Law, 1933–1944.” Vol. I. PhD diss., University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, 1982. “Ausschusssitzung des Verbandes der deutschen Volksgruppen.” Nation und Staat 8 (1934/35): 408–410. Bamberger-Stemmann, Sabine. Der Europäische Nationalitätenkongress 1923 bis 1938: Nationale Minderheiten zwischen Lobbyistentum und Großmachtinteressen. Marburg: Verlag Herder-Institut, 2000. Best, Werner. “Nochmals: Völkische Großraumordnung statt: ‘Völkerrechtliche’ Großraum­ ordnung!” Deutsches Recht 11 (1941): 1533–1534. ———. “Rechtsbegriff und ‘Völkerrecht’.” Deutsches Recht 9 (1939): 1345–1348. ———. “Völkische Großraumordnung.” Deutsches Recht 10 (1940): 1006–1007. Boehm, Max Hildebert. Das eigenständige Volk: Volkstheoretische Grundlagen der Ethnopolitik und Geisteswissenschaften. Göttingen: Braumüller, 1932. ———. Europa irredenta: Eine Einführung in das Nationalitätenproblem der Gegenwart. Berlin: Hobbing, 1923. ———. “Werner Hasselblatt: Dem Andenken an diesen Kämpfer für das Recht der deutschen Minderheiten” Jahrbuch des baltischen Deutschtums 6 (1959): 72–75. Brandsch, Rudolf. “Die deutschen Volksgruppen als Mitträger einer europäischen Neuentwicklung.” Volk und Reich 4 (1928): 112–117. Die 10. Jahrestagung des Deutschen Schutzbundes, Salzburg, 14. bis 16. Mai 1929. Berlin: Deutscher Schutzbund-Verlag, s.a. Dietze, (Dr. jur. habil.). “Politische Völkerrechtswissenschaft.” Deutsches Recht: Zentralorgan des National-Sozialistischen Rechtswahrerbundes 9 (1939): 703–704. Gerber, Hans. “Kulturautonomie als Eigenart minderheitenrechtlicher Ordnung und ihre Verwirklichung nach der estnischen Verfassung.” In Festschrift für Ludwig Traeger zum 70. Geburtstage am 10. Juni 1926: Überreicht von der juristischen Fakultät der Universität Marburg, 231–328. Berlin: Stilke, 1926. Gruchmann, Lothar. Nationalsozialistische Großraumordnung: Die Konstruktion einer “deutschen Monroe-Doktrin.” Stuttgart: Deutsche Verlags-Anstalt, 1962. Haar, Ingo. Historiker im Nationalsozialismus: Die deutsche Geschichtswissenschaft und der “Volkstumskampf” im Osten. 2nd ed. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2000. Hackmann, Jörg. “Werner Hasselblatt: Von der estländischen Kulturautonomie zur national­ sozialistischen Bevölkerungspolitik.” In Deutschbalten, Weimarer Republik und Drittes Reich, edited by Michael Garleff. Vol. 2, 71–107. Cologne, Weimar and Vienna: Böhlau, 2008. Hasselblatt, Werner. “Die politischen Elemente eines werdenden Volksgruppenrechtes.” Jahrbuch der Akademie für Deutsches Recht 5 (1938): 13–24. ———. “Hat sich die Kulturautonomie in Estland bewährt?” Nation und Staat 4 (1930/31): 441–449. Herbert, Ulrich. Best: Biographische Studien über Radikalismus, Weltanschauung und Vernunft, 1903–1989. Bonn: Dietz, 1996. Hiden, John. Defender of Minorities: Paul Schiemann, 1876–1944. London: Hurst, 2004. Hugelmann, Karl Gottfried. “Rechtliche Formen der Volksgruppensicherung.” Zeitschrift für die gesamte Staatswissenschaft 100 (1940): 412–422. Klauss, Herbert. “Nationalsozialistisches Volksgruppenrecht.” Würzburg: Mayr, 1937.

“Volksgruppen Rights”  41 Loesch, Karl C. von, ed. in collaboration with A. Hillen Ziegfeld. “Die Zukunft des Volksgruppenrechtes: Eine grundsätzliche Betrachtung.” Jahrbuch der Akademie für Deutsches Recht 4 (1937): 173–183. ———. Volk unter Völkern. Breslau: Hirt, 1925. ———. “Völker sind nicht gleich.” Deutsches Grenzland: Jahrbuch des Instituts für Grenz- und Auslandstudien 2 (1936): 35–44. ———. “Volkstumskunde und Volksgruppenfragen.” Jahrbuch für Politik und Auslands­ kunde (1941): 82–96. Loth, Wilfried. “Rettungsanker Europa? Deutsche Europa-Konzeptionen vom Dritten Reich bis zur Bundesrepublik.” In Ende des Dritten Reiches – Ende des Zweiten Weltkriegs: Eine Perspektivische Rückschau, edited by Hans-Erich Volkmann, 201–221. Munich and Zurich: Piper, 1995. Majer, Diemut. “Die Perversion des Völkerrechts unter dem Nationalsozialismus.” Jahrbuch des Instituts für Deutsche Geschichte XIV (1985): 311–332. Merkl, Adolf. “Zur Typenlehre des Volkstumsrechtes.” Zeitschrift für öffentliches Recht 19 (1939): 114–136. ———. “Zur Typenlehre des Volkstumsrechtes: Eine Ergänzung.” Zeitschrift für öffentliches Recht 19 (1939): 539–544. Neuwirth, Hans. “Reale Rechtsstaatlichkeit  – Rechtspersönlichkeit der Volksgruppen.” Nation und Staat 10 (1936/37): 13–22. Opitz, Reinhard, ed. Europastrategien des deutschen Kapitals 1900–1945. Cologne: PahlRugenstein, 1977. Pinwinkler, Alexander. “ ‘Minderheiten’ und ‘Volksgruppen’ in rechts- und staatswissenschaftlichen Diskursen in Österreich, circa 1918–1938.” In Das Andere denken: Repräsentationen von Migration in Westeuropa und den USA im 20. Jahrhundert, edited by Gabriele Metzler, 57–85. Frankfurt am Main and New York: Campus, 2013. Prehn, Ulrich. Max Hildebert Boehm: Radikales Ordnungsdenken vom Ersten Weltkrieg bis in die Bundesrepublik. Göttingen: Wallstein, 2013. Raschhofer, Hermann. “Entwicklung und Funktion des neuen Volksgruppenrechts.” Zeitschrift für ausländisches öffentliches Recht und Völkerrecht 11 (1942/43): 418–444. Retterath, Hans-Werner. “Karl Christian von Loesch.” In Handbuch der völkischen Wissenschaften: Personen  – Institutionen – Forschungsprogramme  – Stiftungen, edited by Ingo Haar and Michael Fahlbusch in collaboration with Matthias Berg, 386–389. Munich: Saur, 2008. Rüdiger, Wilhelm von. Aus dem letzten Kapitel deutsch-baltischer Geschichte in Lettland 1919–1939. Part 2. Hannover-Wülfel: self-published, 1955. Salzborn, Samuel. “ ‘Volksgruppenrecht’: Zum Transfer(versuch) eines politischen Paradigmas in das europäische Minderheitenrecht.” In Rechtstransfer in der Geschichte: Legal Transfer in History, edited by Vanessa Duss, Nikolaus Linder, Katrin Kastl, Christina Börner, Fabienne Hirt, and Felix Züsli, 44–63. Munich: Meidenbauer, 2006. ———. Ethnisierung der Politik: Theorie und Geschichte des Volksgruppenrechts in Europa. Frankfurt am Main and New York: Campus, 2005. Scheuermann, Martin. Minderheitenschutz contra Konfliktverhütung? Die Minderheitenpolitik des Völkerbundes in den zwanziger Jahren. Marburg: Verlag Herder-Institut, 2000. Schiemann, Paul. “Ende der Nationalitätenbewegung?” Der Deutsche in Polen, no. 15 (April 4, 1939).

42  Ulrich Prehn Ullmann, Hermann. Pioniere Europas: Die volksdeutsche Bewegung und ihre Lehren. Munich: Ackermann-Gemeinde, 1956. Verhandlungen des Reichstags. V. Wahlperiode 1930, vol. 449: Anlagen Nr. 401 bis 750 zu den stenographischen Berichten. Berlin: s.l., 1932. ———. “Volksgruppen‘recht’ und Hitlereid: Stets einsatzbereit – wofür?” Der Deutsche in Polen, no. 12 (March 19, 1939). Walz, G. A. “Minderheitenrecht oder Volksgruppenrecht?” Völkerbund und Völkerrecht 3 (1936/37): 594–600.

2 Speaking Nazi-European The semantic and conceptual formation of the National Socialist “New Europe” Johannes Dafinger “Nazi-German” has long been viewed as a language of its own. The booklet “Nazi-German in 22 Lessons,” which was published during the Second World War, mocked the Nazis for obscuring their aggressive political aims with innocentsounding words. “New Order” (Neuordnung), for example, was translated into “standard” English as: “The destruction of a legally-elected [sic] constitution and the installment of a Quisling dictator.”1 Others took a less tongue-in-cheek approach to deciphering Nazi semantics. Victor Klemperer famously used the acronym “LTI” – which stands for “Lingua Tertii Imperii,” or “language of the Third Reich” – to mark in his pre-war and wartime “philologist’s notebook” the words, collocations, and sentential forms that he thought the Nazis had invented or, more often, employed in a new way.2 In the United States, Heinz Paechter systematically collected the same type of words.3 “Europe” was one of the terms that both Klemperer and Paechter included in their notebooks and glossaries in various variations, including the “Neuordnung Europa’s [!]” (New Order of Europe),4 “Festung Europa” (Fortress Europe), and “Das Neue Europa” (The New Europe).5 Klemperer and Paechter had good reason to offer a definition for “Europe,” for the Nazis used the term in novel ways. The meaning of “Europe” for the Nazis is carved out in the first part of this chapter. In this first part, I do not analyze how Europe actually looked under German hegemony, nor do I account for the many variants of the term “New Europe” developed by the Nazis over time. Instead, I argue that at the height of the Second World War, five ideological assumptions informed Nazi discourse about Europe, assumptions that could not be questioned by anyone talking about Europe within the National Socialist sphere of influence. The second part of the chapter discusses the genesis and the impact of the Nazi discourse about Europe. Why did the Nazis develop concepts of Europe in the first place? What role did people in other European countries play in this discourse? And how relevant was the Nazi discourse about Europe? In answering these questions, I aim to shed new light on the function of hegemonic discourse during a specific historical episode.

44  Johannes Dafinger

The meaning of “Europe” for the Nazis “European community with a common destiny” (europäische Schicksalsgemeinschaft) The notion that the “peoples” of Europe were bound together by “destiny” and should be united against their common enemies figured prominently in National Socialist discourse about Europe following the German attack on the Soviet Union, particularly after the German defeat at Stalingrad.6 For pro-Nazi contemporaries, it was a commonplace view that Europe as a whole was threatened by “international plutocracy and international Bolshevism.” Europe was in “danger of death,” as Propaganda Minister Joseph Goebbels put it in his infamous Sportpalast speech.7 Even in academic journals this conviction was repeated in the same urgent tone: “More menacing and dangerous than ever before, the enemies in East and West are knocking on the gates of the continent,” wrote the philosopher Hermann Noack in the last year of the war in the foreign policy journal Auswärtige Politik. Noack warned of the “destiny” that Europe would face if not rescued by the military might of the German Reich: Europe would lose political power and economic autonomy, and experience “cultural downfall.”8 Other statements did not make any direct reference to the war, but came to the same conclusion. For example, the German Foreign Office’s newly created Committee on Europe (Europa-Ausschuss) stated in autumn 1943 that if Europe did not unite, it would not be able to “hold its ground in the world,” a world that had entered the age of “large empires [Großreiche] and continental agglomerations. . . . All of Europe’s peoples would be affected (as Europe is a community with a common destiny).”9 The warning that “Judeo-Bolshevism” wanted to “invade Europe” was repeatedly asserted from summer 1941 onward. Hitler set the tone in his first speech after the German attack on the Soviet Union: “The purpose of this front is [not] the protection of particular countries, but the safeguarding of Europe and therefore the salvation of all [countries].”10 Bolshevism, as Hitler explained on another occasion, has had “since twenty years only one goal . . . to invade Europe, to destroy its culture, but most of all to wipe out its people to gain slave laborers for the Siberian tundra.”11 From this perspective, the fight of Germany and its allies against the Soviet Union was a fight for Europe as a whole. After the Soviet victory in the Battle of Stalingrad, the use of this topos further intensified. There should be “only one word for editors in the coming months,” the Reich Press Office instructed the German press: “The fight against Bolshevism and Jewry!” It had to be made clear what “awaits Germany, what awaits Europe, if it falls victim to Bolshevism. Bolshevism is the henchman of Jewry.”12 The threat from the “West” was perceived as being more subtle. Even before France and Great Britain concluded a military alliance with the Soviet Union, they were blamed for “betraying” the European cause.13 They allegedly did so by replacing “European law and order (Ordnung), discipline (Zucht) and unity (Geschlossenheit)” with “demoralization” (Zuchtlosigkeit), “liberty without boundaries” and “the belief in mankind, embracing all races, nations, religions

Speaking Nazi-European  45 and cultures” (den Glauben an die alle Rassen, Nationen, Religionen und Kulturen umfassende Menschheit). Guaranteeing equal rights to Jews and colored people posed “a tremendous threat for the white race” and could lead to “the destruction of the strata which are the cultural pillars (kulturtragende Schichten) by anti-European race instincts,” as the visitors of the exhibition Europas Schicksalskampf im Osten (“Europe’s Fateful Struggle in the East”), first shown at the Nuremberg Party Rally in 1938, were told. Yet the “West” was also maligned on economic grounds. Great Britain, or, more precisely, the “spirit of English management (Wirtschaftsführung),” was blamed for making parts of Europe excessively focused on the production and sale of goods. From early 1941 onward, the National Socialists included the United States in this critique. In fact, the governments of all democratic countries in “the West” were suspected of conspiring with “Bolshevism” against Europe. In the opinion of the Nazis, these governments were dominated by “plutocratic” interests.14 Thus, for the anti-Semitic Nazis, the East-West “conspiracy” was not a “paradoxical occurrence.” Rather, as Hitler put it, “international Jewry” [internationales Judentum] was the “driving force” behind both “international capitalism and Bolshevism.”15 The “common destiny” shared by Europe’s “peoples” was thus seen as follows: they could either resist “Jewish” Bolshevism and “Jewish” plutocracy together, or they would collectively perish. Friedrich Berber, an adviser to Foreign Minister Joachim von Ribbentrop, wrote: A  Europe that is internally fissured is too weak to sustain its endogenous ­character and strength (Eigenart und Eigenkraft) amidst a world of empires. . . . Europe will be united after this war – or it will no longer exist, at least not as Europe in the real sense, not as that what makes Europe a  resounding name (als das, was den Klang und Namen Europas ausmacht).16 Similarly, Hitler asserted that the war was a “fight not only for Germany, but for the whole of Europe, a fight about whether to be or not to be!”17 The creation of a “racially pure Europe” (rassereines Europa) The Nazis thought that Europe’s “peoples” had a “common racial origin” as members of the “Aryan race.”18 This “community . . . of blood” was seen as the most important factor for European community.19 A racial “reordering” of Europe was necessary to exclude all people from the “New Europe” whom the Nazis regarded as “non-Europeans” in a racial sense. The goal was to create a “racially pure Europe” (rassereines Europa).20 German race researchers saw above all Jews as “alien elements” in the European mixture of “racial types” (Rassetypen).21 Based on the notion that there were biological differences between “Jews” and “Europeans,” the Nazis asserted there were unbridgeable cultural differences, as well. Accordingly, no Jews could be part of a National Socialist Europe. “Every Jew who lives in Europe is a danger to

46  Johannes Dafinger European culture,” Reich Youth Leader Baldur von Schirach said for example in 1942. Schirach justified the deportation of Jews to “the ghetto of the East” as an “active contribution to European culture.”22 The place of “Slavs” in the National Socialist “New Europe” was less certain. They were regarded as an “Indo-Germanic race,” even if they “had significantly degenerated racially” (in comparison with other Indo-Germanic groups) because they had “mixed” with Mongols.23 At least until 1939, as John Connelly has observed, “it was possible to think of them not only as potential allies, but also as Europeans.”24 Aside from this, it was also unclear which “peoples” could be defined as “Slavs.” For example, the Croatian Ustasha tried to show that Croats certainly had a Slavic background, but that “other Indo-European peoples (such as the Illyrians and Goths)” had “contributed” to the Croatian ethno-racial “make-up.”25 In 1942, Hitler even raised doubts about the existence of “Slavs” in a racial sense at all,26 and Joseph Goebbels prohibited the use of the terms “Slavs” and “Slavic,” because the German allies in Southeastern Europe had opposed their use.27 After the beginning of the Second World War, not all people who spoke Slavic languages were treated equally by the Nazis. The Poles were “relegated to nonEuropean status”28 once the war had started, but the Croats, Slovaks, and Bulgarians were not. Connelly gives three possible explanations for this:29 First, and probably most important, one has to take Hitler’s concept of “living space” (Lebens­raum) – which was also a racial concept – into account. Since the beginning of the war, Polish territory was defined as “German living space.” Second, the treatment of Poles as non-Europeans could build upon older anti-Polish traditions. And third, Poland’s missing willingness to cooperate with Nazi Germany influenced Nazi ideology: Had the Polish state chosen to collaborate, “it might have survived as a satellite similar to Slovakia.”30 “European family of peoples” (europäische Völkerfamilie) In line with his racial definition of Europe, Hitler said in a speech in front of the German parliament in March 1936 that the European “peoples” were “relatives, siblings and in-laws” (miteinander verwandt, verschwistert oder verschwägert).31 In other words, they belonged to one “family.” The phrase “European family of peoples” (europäische Völkerfamilie) was used by Hitler throughout his dictatorship; it was perhaps even coined by him.32 Remarkably, he was not talking about a “family” or a community of individual human beings, but of ethnic “peoples” (Völker). At the same time, “peoples” were described in the National Socialist discourse with terms which are usually used for describing individuals: “character,” “personality,” “traits,” etc.33 Like individuals, “peoples” were said to have their own characteristic traits (Wesenszüge) that distinguished them from other “peoples.”34 They were seen as “natural” entities which, according to different racial theories, had developed either within “races” by the influence of the “landscape” (Landschaft) or “soil” (Boden)35 or by “racial mixing.”36 The National Socialist discourse criticized the fractured system of smaller states that had emerged after the First World War as being “chaotic,”37 because

Speaking Nazi-European  47 the borders of nation-states were not identical with the “borders between peoples” (Volksgrenzen).38 Furthermore, the “atomization” of Europe led to economic boundaries which contradicted “all rules of logic.”39 In contrast to the “irrational” order of the Versailles Treaty, the envisaged “New Order” was presented as being “rational.” The “reordering” of Europe along völkisch lines would diminish the danger of conflicts between “peoples” by giving every “people” the “possibility for existence” (Existenzmöglichkeiten), as Hitler claimed as early as 1933.40 Cultural segregation One of the promises of the Nazis was that they would “respect the natural (arteigen) character and life of individual peoples.”41 The Nazis saw the peculiarity of Europe in the “polymorphy (Vielgestaltigkeit) of its cultures,”42 the “cultural diversity” (kulturelle Mannigfaltigkeit) of the continent.43 But they had a rather limited “diversity” in mind. Kultur for them was bound to ethnicity, ethnos here being defined racially, not culturally.44 Thus, they identified just as many “cultures” in Europe as they identified “peoples.” These “cultures” were regarded as being internally homogeneous. The amalgamation or transfer of culture within Europe was to be avoided. In sum, Europe’s different “cultures” were supposed to add up to a “European cultural world,”45 but were not to blend into one common European culture. Europe should not become a “collective,” but a community (Gemeinschaft): “In a collective. . . , every impulse that wants to deviate from the norm is smothered at a nascent stage. . . . By contrast, the Gemeinschaft comes into fruition because of the peculiarities of its members.”46 The meaning of the German term “Gemeinschaft” goes back to the differentiation between Gemeinschaft and Gesellschaft first systematized by Ferdinand Tönnies.47 Tönnies described a Gemeinschaft as an “organic” community; a Gesellschaft (society), by contrast, was an “ideational (ideelle) and mechanical structure.” The Nazis used the term Gemeinschaft mainly with regard to the German “people” (Volksgemeinschaft). Only ethnic Germans were considered part of the mythically exaggerated Volksgemeinschaft: “Being a member of a Gemeinschaft means not to carry abstract characteristics that are common to all but to be interwoven with one’s individual peculiarity into a bigger, likewise peculiar whole.”48 This is the context in which the Nazi concept of a Gemeinschaft of European “peoples” should be understood. Also, we see once again that the Nazis talked about “peoples” in the same way they talked about individuals. Consequently, applying this understanding to the discourse about Europe, participants across all power groups within the Nazi leadership asserted that it was crucial that the European “peoples” remained culturally “autonomous” (eigenständig); “French universalism” (Universalismus französischer Prägung) had to be avoided.49 Werner Daitz, who worked closely with Alfred Rosenberg and published widely on the subject of establishing a European “greater economic area” (Großwirtschaftsraum), asserted that every “people” had to live according to its “mode of life” (Lebensstil), something that was “innate” (eingeboren) and

48  Johannes Dafinger “unchangeable” (unabänderlich); indeed, it was an inescapable “law” that the “peoples” of Europe had to live culturally segregated.50 German dominance All of the concepts developed within Nazi Germany for the future of Europe were united by the expectation of future German hegemony.51 The Nazis openly asserted it was their objective to make Germany the dominant country in Europe. “The control of the continent will be assumed by Germany!”52 Sentences like this could be read in many variations in Nazi publications. The proclaimed hierarchy between the European states was seen as something “natural,” determined by “economic capability,” “biological vitality,” “military strength,” and “cultural ability.” All of these characteristics were assumed to originate in the “racial power of a people.”53 At the top of the hierarchy stood Germany: The “German people” was said to be “economically the most capable, the most hard-working, and, with regard of organizational skills, the most gifted people of the continent.” Germany had the capacity to “set standards” in the field of culture.54 Moreover, the war had proven that Germany was the strongest military power on the continent.55 Therefore, it was clear to the Nazis that Germany was and had to be the “center of Europe.”56

The genesis and the impact of the Nazi discourse about Europe Why did the Nazis develop concepts concerning Europe in the first place? Indeed, fascists vehemently criticized various ideas about Europe, such as the prominent Paneuropa idea advanced by Count Richard von Coudenhove-Kalergi. They were also strongly opposed to Aristide Briand’s plan for European integration. From an early date, the Nazis described themselves as “anti-European”; Europe was an “absurd term”57 to them. There are two interconnected reasons why a Nazi discourse about the “New Europe” began to develop, despite this tradition of opposition to various plans of uniting Europe. First, a Nazi Europe became a political and military reality. This was a consequence of the expansionist foreign policy of Nazi Germany.58 Second, the term “Europe” allowed the Nazis to connect to other political movements within and outside of Germany. Looking at political circles within Germany, they shared their disdain of liberal and pacifist visions of Europe with conservatives who supported the notion of a Christian “Abendland,” and with the heterogeneous advocates of “Mitteleuropa” and “Reich” concepts, including conservative revolutionary circles. It was reasonable for the Nazis to integrate terms like “Abendland,” “Mitteleuropa,” and “Reich” into their political language. And the development of political discourse in the 1930s proved them right: These terms enabled conservative elites to identify with National Socialist thought.59 Perhaps even more important was the development of a “European” vocabulary for the Nazis’ communication with non-Germans. The use of “inclusive” language

Speaking Nazi-European  49 helped to undergird Nazi propaganda in other countries. The older literature on how the Nazis talked about Europe emphasizes this point,60 but overlooks that the Nazi discourse about Europe involved more than just rhetorical reinterpretations and innovations. The rise of “New Europe” as a term was closely associated with conceptual developments. Many academics, party officials and government representatives both in and outside Germany, took part in expounding a new vision for Europe. Far from being passive recipients of Nazi ideology, fascists and the adherents of völkisch concepts in other European countries were demanding that Germany develop plans for the future of the “New Europe.” As German Foreign Minister Joachim von Ribbentrop noted: From various corners suggestions for the founding of a new Europe were constantly being submitted to us. For example, Mussolini submitted ideas during my talk with him in Rome; on various occasions the Finns did so; as did Marshal Antonescu. . . . Furthermore, Laval pushed persistently in this direction. Requests in this regard also came from other Balkan states, as well as from Spain.61 At the same time, Nazi Germany’s allies often behaved obsequiously, voicing viewpoints to please the expected future hegemon of Europe. For example, Hanns Albin Rauter, the Higher SS and police leader in the Netherlands, reported to Heinrich Himmler in early 1943 that Anton Adriaan Mussert, the leader of the fascist party in the Netherlands Nationaal-Socialistische Beweging, “believed that henceforward he had to speak ‘European’ ” because Mussert had heard Hitler talking at a meeting “mainly about European politics” and only “very little about Germanentum.”62 Over time, this discourse about Europe led to the emergence of a set of core ideas about how the Nazi “New Europe” should look. This included a canonized set of phrases – an LTI special vocabulary – that became obligatory to use in political discussions. All participants in the discourse about Europe in the National Socialist sphere of influence had to stay within this conceptual framework; the Lingua Tertii Imperii provided “a stock of accepted ways of talking to people who have to express ideas.”63 Voices that did not fit in were silenced. The relevance of all this is succinctly expressed in an analogy originally proposed by Stephen Kotkin, a historian of the Soviet Union. In his monograph “Magnetic Mountain,” a study of the industrial city Magnitogorsk, Kotkin famously describes Stalinism as a “civilization” that demanded new identities from Soviet citizens. Kotkin calls the process of appropriating these identities “learning how to ‘speak Bolshevik.’ ”64 Other sources of identity did not cease to exist, but, according to Kotkin, all “ways of speaking about oneself came to be refracted through the inescapable political lens of Bolshevism.”65 Soviet citizens had to learn how to participate in Soviet “civilization.” Even when they criticized the regime, they did so within “the boundaries of critical thought beyond which nobody living within the Soviet system could think. . . . The terms of their argument remained determined by the Stalinist language. Thereby, they inadvertently contributed to its legitimization.”66

50  Johannes Dafinger Kotkin’s observations of the Soviet system appear useful for better understanding the world of rhetoric about Europe that was created by the Nazis. Similar to the Soviet citizen, who had to learn how to “speak Bolshevik,” the subject of Nazi rule had to learn how to “speak Nazi-European.” In this process, ideas surrounding the “New Europe” became part of the subject’s identity – without them having to give up their fascist or völkisch identity. In this way, older identities were supplemented with a Nazi-European identity. As we have previously seen, the “boundaries of critical thought” were also upheld in the case of Nazi discourse about Europe. There was no need to sanction criticism concerning the details of National Socialist concepts of Europe. Indeed, if all of the concepts of Europe that were made public within the National Socialist sphere of influence were folded into canonized words or phrases, their content was pre-defined by the meanings invoked by this language. One was forced categorically to conceive of Europe in racial terms. Speaking Nazi-European therefore “inadvertently contributed to . . . [the] legitimization” of the Nazi regime and its rule over Europe. In one of the first historical studies on National Socialist concepts of Europe, Robert Edwin Herzstein wrote that the Nazis “continued to speak in ‘European’ terms” when they realized that they could “manipulate” their collaborators in other countries that way – “while thinking and acting Nazi.”67 In fact, they continued to think and act Nazi while starting to speak in “European” terms – and there was no contradiction in it. The fascist and völkisch movements developed their own visions for the continent in the 1930s and 1940s that were in line with their völkisch and racist worldview. Speaking Nazi-European was Nazi and European at the same time.

Notes 1 [Walter Trier], Nazi-German in 22 Lessons: Including Useful Information for Führers, Fifth Columnists, Gauleiters and Quislings (London et al.: Pulman, n.d. [ca. 1942]), n.p. I thank Fernando Clara for bringing this booklet to my attention. It was also published in languages other than English. In the (flawed) English version, “substitution” is used instead of “installment” in the quoted sentence. I  have changed this for the sake of better understanding. – “Quisling,” the name of the Norwegian fascist Vidkun Quisling, was used as a synonym for “collaborating with the Nazis,” so a “Quisling dictator” is a German-friendly dictator collaborating with Nazi Germany. 2 Victor Klemperer, The Language of the Third Reich: LTI  – Lingua Tertii Imperii  – A Philologist’s Notebook (London and New Brunswick/NJ: The Athlone Press, 2000). German original: Victor Klemperer, LTI: Notizbuch eines Philologen, 4th ed. (Leipzig: Reclam, 1975) [first published in 1947]. 3 His “glossary of contemporary German usage” entitled “Nazi-Deutsch” contained all terms and coinings being found in German newspapers and magazines, dictionaries, and booklets, as well as in influencial writings of German scientists and politicians that “had not yet been listed in the latest edition of Cassel’s German-English Dictionary.” Heinz Paechter, Nazi-Deutsch: A Glossary of Contemporary German Usage – With Appendices on Government, Military and Economic Institutions (New York: Frederick Ungar, 1944), 3. 4 Title of a glossary entry in Paechter, Nazi-Deutsch, 47. 5 Klemperer, Language, 161, 163. Cf. also s.v. “Europäische Neuordnung” and “Festung Europa,” in Cornelia Schmitz-Berning, Vokabular des Nationalsozialismus (Berlin and New York: de Gruyter, 1998), 213–215, 232–233.

Speaking Nazi-European  51 6 On the following cf. Birgit Kletzin, Europa aus Rasse und Raum: Die nationalsozia­ listische Idee der Neuen Ordnung (Münster: LIT, 2002), 63–71. 7 Both quotes from Joseph Goebbels, “Rede im Berliner Sportpalast (‘Wollt Ihr den totalen Krieg’),” February  18, 1943, 100(0) Schlüsseldokumente zur deutschen Geschichte im 20. Jahrhundert, www.1000dokumente.de/index.html?c=dokument_ de&dokument=0200_goe&object=translation&st=&l=de. 8 Hermann Noack, “Das geschichtliche Wachsen des europäischen Gesamtbewusstseins,” Auswärtige Politik 11, no. 5/6 (1944): 277. 9 Leitsätze des Europa-Ausschusses des Auswärtigen Amtes, 9.9.1943, printed in Hans Werner Neulen, Europa und das 3. Reich: Einigungsbestrebungen im deutschen Machtbereich 1939–45 (Munich: Universitas, 1987), doc. 14, 125. 10 Proclamation of Adolf Hitler “to the German people” on 22 June  1941, printed in Hitler: Reden und Proklamationen, 1932–1945, vol. II,2: Untergang, 1941–1945, ed. Max Domarus (Wiesbaden: R. Löwit, 1973), 1731. This sentence was often quoted literally in the next years. Cf. Michael Salewski, “Ideas of the National Socialist Party,” in Documents on the History of European Integration, vol. 1: Continental Plans for European Union 1939–1945, ed. Walter Lipgens (Berlin and New York: de Gruyter, 1985), 48, n. 64 (slightly different translation). 11 Proclamation of Adolf Hitler, read out by Joseph Goebbels during a speech in the Sportpalast in Berlin on January 30, 1943, printed in Archiv der Gegenwart – Dokumentation der Zeitgeschichte: Weltgeschehen in Politik und Wirtschaft, CD-ROM (St. Augustin: Siegler, 2004), doc. 05808‑1. 12 “Die Kampfparole” Zeitschriften-Dienst no. 196/65, February 5, 1943, section 8312, cf. Jeffrey Herf, The Jewish Enemy: Nazi Propaganda during World War II and the Holocaust (Cambridge/MA and London: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 2008), 188 [translation on the basis of Herf’s translation]. 13 Cf. here and in the following Europas Schicksalskampf im Osten: Ausstellung zum Reichsparteitag 1938 unter Schirmherrschaft des Stellvertreters des Führers Reichsminister Rudolf Heß – 4 Jahrtausende europäischer Geschichte in Funden, Kunstwerken, Karten, Urkunden und Schriften veranstaltet von der Dienststelle des Beauftragten des Führers für die gesamte geistige und weltanschauliche Erziehung der NSDAP durchgeführt vom Amt für Schrifttumspflege in Zusammenarbeit mit dem Amt “Schönheit der Arbeit” in der NS.-Gemeinschaft “Kraft durch Freude” (Berlin: Limpert, 1938), 128 et seqq. Quotes in the next two sentences from 128, 131, and 167. 14 Peter Longerich, Propagandisten im Krieg: Die Presseabteilung des Auswärtigen Amtes unter Ribbentrop (Munich: Oldenbourg, 1987), 83 et seqq. 15 Proclamation of Adolf Hitler, January 30, 1943 (as n. 11), cf. Longerich, Propagandisten, 85. Cf. also, with a lot of evidence on the Nazis’ belief in a conspiracy of “world Jewry” against Europe, Herf, Enemy. 16 Friedrich Berber, “Die Neuordnung Europas und die Aufgabe der außenpolitischen Wissenschaft,” Auswärtige Politik 9, no. 3 (1942): 189. Cf. Kletzin, Europa, 89. 17 Hitler in his speech on November 8, 1941 in Munich, quoted from Domarus, Hitler, 1774. This extract is also printed in Das neue Europa: Mitteilungen über das englischamerikanische Welt- und Geschichtsbild 1, no. 3 (1941): 3. 18 Franz Alfred Six, “Das Reich und die Grundlegung Europas,” in Jahrbuch der Weltpolitik 1942, ed. Franz Alfred Six (Berlin: Junker und Dünnhaupt, 1942), 14, verbatim in Franz Alfred Six, Das Reich und Europa: Eine politisch-historische Skizze (Berlin: Franz Eher, 1943), 6. Cf. here and in the following also Kletzin, Europa, 79–80. 19 Noack, “Wachsen,” 279. 20 The quote is from an undated publication of the Reichsorganisationsleiter der NSDAP, quoted from Boris Schilmar, Der Europadiskurs im deutschen Exil 1933–1945 (Munich: Oldenbourg, 2004), 128. 21 Erwin Baur, Eugen Fischer and Fritz Lenz, Grundriß der menschlichen Erblichkeits­ lehre und Rassenhygiene (Munich: J. F. Lehmanns, 1921), 127.

52  Johannes Dafinger 22 Europa ist mehr als ein Kontinent: Ansprache des Reichsleiters Baldur von Schirach in der Stunde der Begründung des Europäischen Jugendverbandes in Wien am 15. September 1942 (n.p., n.d. [1942]), 5. Cf. Michael Salewski, “Europa: Idee und Wirklichkeit in der nationalsozialistischen Weltanschauung und politischen Praxis,” in Europas Mitte, ed. Otmar Franz (Göttingen and Zurich: Muster-Schmidt, 1987), 104. 23 Baur, Fischer, and Lenz, Grundriß, 131. For further references to works by Hans F. K. Günther and Houston Stewart Chamberlain that show that “Slavs could be considered Aryans” or that it was even claimed that they “belonged to the ‘Germanic’ race,” see Nevenko Bartulin, “The Ideal Nordic-Dinaric Racial Type: Racial Anthropology in the Independent State of Croatia,” Review of Croatian History 5, no. 1 (2009): 195, n. 26. 24 John Connelly, “Nazis and Slavs: From Racial Theory to Racist Practice,” Central European History 32, no. 1 (1999): 12. 25 Bartulin, “Type,” 197. 26 Connelly, “Nazis,” 16–17. 27 Diemut Majer, “Fremdvölkische” im Dritten Reich: Ein Beitrag zur nationalsozia­ lis­tischen Rechtssetzung und Rechtspraxis in Verwaltung und Justiz unter besonderer Berücksichtigung der eingegliederten Ostgebiete und des Generalgouvernements (Boppard am Rhein: Boldt, 1993), 129, n. 230. 28 Connelly, “Nazis,” 13. 29 See ibid., 20–24 for the following. 30 Ibid., 21. 31 “Erklärung der Reichsregierung  – Rede des Reichskanzlers Adolf Hitler,” March  7, 1936 in Verhandlungen des Reichstags: IX. Wahlperiode 1933, vol. 458: Stenographi­ sche Berichte, Anlagen zu den Stenographischen Berichten (Berlin: Verlag der Reichsdruckerei, 1936), 66, www.reichstagsprotokolle.de/Blatt2_w9_bsb00000142_00070. html. 32 Kletzin, Europa, 138, states that the term was coined by Hitler. The term is especially prominent in writings of Werner Daitz (cf. n. 50). 33 Kletzin, Europa, 81, 137; Ferdinand Herrmann, “Volkscharakterologie: Forderungen, Wege und Ziele,” Zeitschrift für Ethnologie 73 (1941). 34 Herrmann, “Volkscharakterologie,” 323. 35 Cf. Gertraud Haase-Bessell, “Volk und Rasse in ihren Beziehungen zueinander,” Zeitschrift für Geopolitik 16, no. 7–12 (1939): 662. 36 Karl C. von Loesch, “Die Lebensgemeinschaft der europäischen Völker,” in Jahrbuch der Weltpolitik 1944, ed. Franz Alfred Six (Berlin: Junker und Dünnhaupt, 1944), 95. 37 Erhard v. Wedel, “Der Grundsatz vom europäischen Gleichgewicht (Lehre und Irrlehre),” Auswärtige Politik 10, no. 2 (1943), 104. Cf. Kletzin, Europa, 60. 38 “Erklärung der Reichsregierung  – Rede des Reichskanzlers Adolf Hitler,” May  17, 1933 in Verhandlungen des Reichstags: VIII. Wahlperiode 1933, vol. 457: Stenographische Berichte, Anlagen zu den Stenographischen Berichten, Sach- und Sprechre­ gister (Berlin: Verlag der Reichsdruckerei, 1934), 47, www.reichstagsprotokolle.de/ Blatt2_w8_bsb00000141_00051.html. 39 Wilhelm Ziegler, “Der Ordnungsgedanke in der europäischen Geschichte,” Zeitschrift für Politik 32, no. 2 (1942), 80. Cf. Kletzin, Europa, 60–61. 40 “Erklärung der Reichsregierung  – Rede des Reichskanzlers Adolf Hitler,” May  17, 1933 (as n. 38), 48. 41 Herrmann, “Volkscharakterologie,” 328. 42 “Erklärung der Reichsregierung – Rede des Reichskanzlers Adolf Hitler,” March 7, 1936 (as n. 31), 68, www.reichstagsprotokolle.de/Blatt2_w9_bsb00000142_00072.html. 43 Theodor Wilhelm, “Europa als Kulturgemeinschaft,” in Europa: Handbuch der politischen, wirtschaftlichen und kulturellen Entwicklung des neuen Europa, ed. Deutsches Institut für Außenpolitische Forschung, 2nd ed. (Leipzig: Helingsche Verlagsanstalt, 1943), 159.

Speaking Nazi-European  53 44 Cf. e.g., ibid., 151: “[W]e in Germany have realized . . . that all things of the inner life are bound . . . with necessity to a specific region (Raum), a specific people and to a concrete order of life. We have learned to understand culture as a fundamental manifestation of life (Lebensäußerung) of people (Volk) and nation.” 45 “Erklärung der Reichsregierung – Rede des Reichskanzlers Adolf Hitler,” March 7, 1936 (as n. 31), 68, www.reichstagsprotokolle.de/Blatt2_w9_bsb00000142_00072.html. 46 Wilhelm, “Europa,” 159. 47 Ferdinand Tönnies, Gemeinschaft und Gesellschaft: Grundbegriffe der reinen Soziologie, 3rd ed. (Darmstadt: WBG, 1972) [first published in 1887]. 48 Karl Larenz, quoted from Michael Stolleis, “Gemeinschaft und Volksgemeinschaft: Zur juristischen Terminologie im Nationalsozialismus,” Vierteljahrshefte für Zeitgeschichte 20, no. 1 (1972): 36. 49 Politisches Archiv des Auswärtigen Amts [Political Archive of the Federal Foreign Office], R 61.415, report of Hans-Ulrich Granow (head of the department “General Questions of Cultural Policy” of the Cultural Division of the German Foreign Office), “Die Kulturabkommen des Deutschen Reiches,” n.d. [end of 1941] (secret), 17. 50 Werner Daitz, “Echte und unechte Großräume: Gesetze des Lebensraumes,” in idem, Lebensraum und gerechte Weltordnung: Grundlagen einer Anti-Atlantik-Charta  – Ausgewählte Aufsätze (Amsterdam: De Amsterdamsche Keurkamer, 1943), 46. 51 Birgit Kletzin even states that it was the “iron law” of all these concepts. Kletzin, Europa, 95. Cf. also Schilmar, Europadiskurs, 120, 135–136, and 138. 52 Friedrich Schmidt, Das Reich als Aufgabe (Berlin: Nordland, 1940), 24. 53 Arthur Seyß-Inquart, Idee und Gestalt des Reiches ([1943]), 34; abridgment also printed in Neulen, Europa doc. 12, 117. 54 Schmidt, Reich, 25. Cf. Kletzin, Europa, 95. 55 Seyß-Inquart, Idee, 35 56 Schmidt, Reich, 22. 57 Ingrid Voss, “Vom ‘unsinnigen Begriff Europa’ zum ‘neuen Europa’: Der Euro­ pagedanke in der nationalsozialistischen Zeitschrift Volk im Werden,” in Der Europadiskurs in den deutschen Zeitschriften (1933–1939), ed. Michel Grunewald and Hans Manfred Bock (Bern et al.: Lang, 1999), 369–392. The quote comes from an article by Johann von Leers in the journal Volk im Werden in 1933. Ibid., 377. 58 Cf. Salewski, “Europa,” 88. 59 Cf. Vanessa Conze, “Vielfalt ohne Einheit? Deutsche Europaideen im 20. Jahrhundert,” in Europäische Einigung im 19. und 20. Jahrhundert: Akteure und Antriebskräfte, ed. Ulrich Lappenküper and Guido Thiemeyer (Paderborn et al.: Schöningh, 2013), esp. 58 (here the image of “bridges”); Vanessa Conze, Das Europa der Deutschen: Ideen von Europa in Deutschland zwischen Reichstradition und Westorientierung (1920– 1970) (Munich: Oldenbourg, 2005), esp. 52 et seqq. and 57 et seqq. 60 An overview on the literature that interprets the National Socialist use of the term “Europe” as nothing more than propaganda that obscures the “real” goals of the regime can be found in Florian Greiner, Wege nach Europa: Deutungen eines imaginierten Kontinents in deutschen, britischen und amerikanischen Printmedien, 1914–1945 (Göttingen: Wallstein, 2014), 180–181. Furthermore, cf. 5–7 in this volume. 61 Akten zur deutschen auswärtigen Politik, series E: 1941–1945, vol. V: 1. Januar bis 30. April  1943 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck  & Ruprecht, 1978), doc. 229: Aufzeichnung des Reichsaußenministers von Ribbentrop as of March 21, 1943, Europäischer Staatenbund, 438, n. 1. Cf. also Neulen, Europa, 110. 62 Robert Grunert, Der Europagedanke westeuropäischer faschistischer Bewegungen 1940–1945 (Paderborn et al.: Schöningh, 2012), 95, n. 33. 63 Paechter, Nazi-Deutsch, 5. 64 Stephen Kotkin, Magnetic Mountain: Stalinism as a Civilization (Berkeley/CA, Los Angeles/CA and London: University of California Press, 1997), 222. 65 Ibid., 221.

54  Johannes Dafinger 66 Igor Halfin and Jochen Hellbeck, “Rethinking the Stalinist Subject: Stephen Kotkin’s ‘Magnetic Mountain’ and the State of Soviet Historical Studies,” Jahrbücher für Geschichte Osteuropas 44, no. 3 (1996): 459. 67 Robert Edwin Herzstein, When Nazi Dreams Come True: The Third Reich’s Internal Struggle over the Future of Europe after a German Victory – A Look at the Nazi Mentality 1939–45 (London: Abacus, 1982), 257.

Bibliography Archives PA AA: Political Archive of the Federal Foreign Office (Politisches Archiv des Auswärtigen Amts), Berlin.

Books and articles Akten zur deutschen auswärtigen Politik 1918–1945, series E: 1941–1945, vol. V: 1. Januar bis 30. April 1943. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1978. Archiv der Gegenwart – Dokumentation der Zeitgeschichte: Weltgeschehen in Politik und Wirtschaft, CD-ROM. St. Augustin: Siegler, 2004. Bartulin, Nevenko. “The Ideal Nordic-Dinaric Racial Type, Racial Anthropology in the Independent State of Croatia.” Review of Croatian History 5, no. 1 (2009): 189–219. Baur, Erwin, Eugen Fischer, and Fritz Lenz. Grundriß der menschlichen Erblichkeitslehre und Rassenhygiene. Munich: J. F. Lehmanns, 1921. Berber, Friedrich. “Die Neuordnung Europas und die Aufgabe der außenpolitischen Wissenschaft.” Auswärtige Politik 9, no. 3 (1942): 189–195. Conelly, John. “Nazis and Slavs: From Racial Theory to Racist Practice.” Central European History 32, no. 1 (1999): 1–33. Conze, Vanessa. Das Europa der Deutschen: Ideen von Europa in Deutschland zwischen Reichstradition und Westorientierung (1920–1970). Munich: Oldenbourg, 2005. ———. “Vielfalt ohne Einheit? Deutsche Europaideen im 20. Jahrhundert.” In Europäi­ sche Einigung im 19. und 20. Jahrhundert: Akteure und Antriebskräfte, edited by Ulrich Lappenküper and Guido Thiemeyer, 45–68. Paderborn: Schöningh, 2013. Daitz, Werner. “Echte und unechte Großräume: Gesetze des Lebensraumes.” In idem, Lebensraum und gerechte Weltordnung: Grundlagen einer Anti-Atlantik-Charta – Ausgewählte Aufsätze, 19–48. Amsterdam: De Amsterdamsche Keurkamer, 1943. De Luna, Antonio. “Europa – von Spanien aus gesehen.” In Europa: Handbuch der politischen, wirtschaftlichen und kulturellen Entwicklung des neuen Europa, edited by Deutsches Institut für Außenpolitische Forschung, 55–62. Leipzig: Helingsche Verlags­anstalt, 1943. Europa ist mehr als ein Kontinent: Ansprache des Reichsleiters Baldur von Schirach in der Stunde der Begründung des Europäischen Jugendverbandes in Wien am 15. September 1942. N.p., n.d. [1942]. Europas Schicksalskampf im Osten: Ausstellung zum Reichsparteitag 1938 unter Schirmherrschaft des Stellvertreters des Führers Reichsminister Rudolf Heß – 4 Jahrtausende europäischer Geschichte in Funden, Kunstwerken, Karten, Urkunden und Schriften veranstaltet von der Dienststelle des Beauftragten des Führers für die gesamte geistige und weltanschauliche Erziehung der NSDAP durchgeführt vom Amt für Schrifttumspflege in Zusammenarbeit mit dem Amt “Schönheit der Arbeit” in der NS.-Gemeinschaft “Kraft durch Freude.” Berlin: Limpert, 1938.

Speaking Nazi-European  55 Goebbels, Joseph. “Rede im Berliner Sportpalast (‘Wollt Ihr den totalen Krieg’),” February 18, 1943. 100(0) Schlüsseldokumente zur deutschen Geschichte im 20. Jahrhundert, www.1000dokumente.de/index.html?c=dokument_de&dokument=0200_goe&object=t ranslation&st=&l=de. Greiner, Florian. Wege nach Europa: Deutungen eines imaginierten Kontinents in deutschen, britischen und amerikanischen Printmedien, 1914–1945. Göttingen: Wallstein, 2014. Grunert, Robert. Der Europagedanke westeuropäischer faschistischer Bewegungen 1940– 1945. Paderborn: Schöningh, 2012. Haase-Bessell, Gertraud. “Volk und Rasse in ihren Beziehungen zueinander.” Zeitschrift für Geopolitik 16, no. 7–12 (1939): 657–674. Halfin, Igor, and Jochen Hellbeck. “Rethinking the Stalinist Subject: Stephen Kotkin’s ‘Magnetic Mountain’ and the State of Soviet Historical Studies.” Jahrbücher für Geschichte Osteuropas 44, no. 3 (1996): 456–463. Herf, Jeffrey. The Jewish Enemy: Nazi Propaganda During World War II and the Holocaust. Cambridge/MA and London: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 2008. Herrmann, Ferdinand. “Volkscharakterologie: Forderungen, Wege und Ziele.” Zeitschrift für Ethnologie 73 (1941): 322–328. Herzstein, Robert Edwin. When Nazi Dreams Come True: The Third Reich’s Internal Struggle over the Future of Europe After a German Victory – A Look at the Nazi Mentality 1939–45. London: Abacus, 1982. Hitler: Reden und Proklamationen, 1932–1945, vol. II,2: Untergang, 1941–1945, edited by Max Domarus. Wiesbaden: R. Löwit, 1973. Klemperer, Victor. The Language of the Third Reich: LTI – Lingua Tertii Imperii – A Philologist’s Notebook. London and New Brunswick/NJ: The Athlone Press, 2000. Kletzin, Birgit. Europa aus Rasse und Raum: Die nationalsozialistische Idee der Neuen Ordnung. Münster: LIT, 2002. Kotkin, Stephen. Magnetic Mountain: Stalinism as a Civilization. Berkeley/CA, Los Angeles/CA and London: University of California Press, 1997. Longerich, Peter. Propagandisten im Krieg: Die Presseabteilung des Auswärtigen Amtes unter Ribbentrop. Munich: Oldenbourg, 1987. Majer, Diemut. “Fremdvölkische” im Dritten Reich: Ein Beitrag zur nationalsozia­ listischen Rechtssetzung und Rechtspraxis in Verwaltung und Justiz unter besonderer Berücksichtigung der eingegliederten Ostgebiete und des Generalgouvernements. Boppard am Rhein: Boldt, 1993. Neulen, Hans Werner. Europa und das 3. Reich: Einigungsbestrebungen im deutschen Machtbereich 1939–45. Munich: Universitas, 1987. Noack, Hermann. “Das geschichtliche Wachsen des europäischen Gesamtbewusstseins.” Auswärtige Politik 11, no. 5/6 (1944): 277–287. Paechter, Heinz. Nazi-Deutsch: A Glossary of Contemporary German Usage – With Appendices on Government, Military and Economic Institutions. New York: Frederick Ungar, 1944. Rede des Reichsministers des Auswärtigen von Ribbentrop am 26. November in Berlin über den Freiheitskampf Europas. [Berlin: 1941]. Salewski, Michael. “Europa: Idee und Wirklichkeit in der nationalsozialistischen Weltanschauung und politischen Praxis.” In Europas Mitte, edited by Otmar Franz, 85–105. Göttingen and Zurich: Muster-Schmidt, 1987. ———. “Ideas of the National Socialist Party.” In Documents on the History of European Integration, vol. 1: Continental Plans for European Union 1939–1945, edited by Walter Lipgens, 37–178. Berlin and New York: de Gruyter, 1985.

56  Johannes Dafinger Schilmar, Boris. Der Europadiskurs im deutschen Exil 1933–1945. Munich: Oldenbourg, 2004. Schmidt, Friedrich. Das Reich als Aufgabe. Berlin: Nordland, 1940. Schmitz-Berning, Cornelia. Vokabular des Nationalsozialismus. Berlin and New York: de Gruyter, 1998. Seyß-Inquart, Arthur. Idee und Gestalt des Reiches. N.p., n.d. [1943]. Six, Franz Alfred. “Das Reich und die Grundlegung Europas.” In Jahrbuch der Weltpolitik 1942, edited by Franz Alfred Six, 13–35. Berlin: Junker und Dünnhaupt, 1942. ———. Das Reich und Europa: Eine politisch-historische Skizze. Berlin: Franz Eher, 1943. Stolleis, Michael. “Gemeinschaft und Volksgemeinschaft: Zur juristischen Terminologie im Nationalsozialismus.” Vierteljahrshefte für Zeitgeschichte 20, no. 1 (1972): 16–38. Tönnies, Ferdinand. Gemeinschaft und Gesellschaft: Grundbegriffe der reinen Soziologie. 3rd ed. Darmstadt: WBG, 1972. [Trier, Walter]. Nazi-German in 22 Lessons: Including Useful Information for Führers, Fifth Columnists, Gauleiters and Quislings. London: Pulman, n.d. [ca. 1942]. Verhandlungen des Reichstags: VIII. Wahlperiode 1933, vol. 457: Stenographische Berichte, Anlagen zu den Stenographischen Berichten, Sach- und Sprechregister. Berlin: Verlag der Reichsdruckerei, 1934. Verhandlungen des Reichstags: IX. Wahlperiode 1933, vol. 458: Stenographische Berichte, Anlagen zu den Stenographischen Berichten. Berlin: Verlag der Reichsdruckerei, 1936. Von Loesch, Karl C. “Die Lebensgemeinschaft der europäischen Völker.” In Jahrbuch der Weltpolitik 1944, edited by Franz Alfred Six, 61–103. Berlin: Junker und Dünnhaupt, 1944. Von Wedel, Erhard. “Der Grundsatz vom europäischen Gleichgewicht (Lehre und Irrlehre).” Auswärtige Politik 10, no. 2 (1943): 100–106. Voss, Ingrid. “Vom ‘unsinnigen Begriff Europa’ zum ‘neuen Europa’: Der Europagedanke in der nationalsozialistischen Zeitschrift Volk im Werden.” In Der Europadiskurs in den deutschen Zeitschriften (1933–1939), edited by Michel Grunewald and Hans Manfred Bock, 369–392. Bern: Lang, 1999. Wilhelm, Theodor. “Europa als Kulturgemeinschaft.” In Europa: Handbuch der politischen, wirtschaftlichen und kulturellen Entwicklung des neuen Europa, edited by Deutsches Institut für Außenpolitische Forschung, 2nd ed., 143–160. Leipzig: Helingsche Verlagsanstalt, 1943. Ziegler, Wilhelm. “Der Ordnungsgedanke in der europäischen Geschichte.” Zeitschrift für Politik 32, no. 2 (1942): 65–81.

3 From Greater German Reich to Greater Germanic Reich Arthur Seyss-Inquart and the racial reshaping of Europe* Johannes Koll The life and career of the Austrian politician Arthur Seyss-Inquart (1892–1946)1 offer a unique window onto the history of racial ideas during the Third Reich and how they informed notions of “Europe.” Seyss-Inquart’s life is particularly informative because it tracked major aspects of the rise and fall of the National Socialist state. He directly collaborated in achieving Germany’s unification, or Anschluss, with Austria in March  1938, and behind the scenes he was also involved in the gradual destruction of the Czechoslovak Republic (1938/1939). Later he served as Deputy General Governor in Poland (1939/1930) and as Reich Commissioner (Reichskommissar) in the Netherlands (1940–1945). He was thus intimately involved in the occupation of nations in both Eastern and Western Europe. In this sense, his career had a pan-European character. Second, he belonged to those National Socialist functionaries who, through publications and speeches, not only dealt with the topic of “Europe” in a conceptual way but, at the same time, were involved in efforts to implement a “New Order” by means of power politics. Thus, in the realm of discourse, as well as in the field of Realpolitik, Seyss-Inquart was engaged in the erection of a National Socialist Europe based on racist ideas. Although Seyss-Inquart did not belong to the inner circle of the regime, his posts in Vienna, Krakow, and The Hague secured him a certain degree of power and influence during 1938 to 1945. In addition, his nomination by Hitler to Reich Minister (though without portfolio) in 1939 enhanced his prestige inside and outside Germany. Given his astonishingly rapid advancement within the power structures of the Greater German Reich, he certainly was a prominent figure among the National Socialist functionaries of second rank. In this chapter, I analyze Seyss-Inquart’s writings and pronouncements in an effort to shed light on the ideas concerning Europe that held sway among National Socialist ideologues. I concentrate on the period of the Second World War – that is, on those years in which he himself frequently used the words “Europe” or Abendland (which meant the same to him).2 In order to trace how his political views changed over time, however, it is necessary to start by detailing his understanding of Europe up to 1939.

58  Johannes Koll

From völkisch German nationalism to National Socialism Arthur Seyss-Inquart came in contact with German cultural nationalism at a very young age. His father Emil, a politically liberal principal of a German grammar school in Olomouc, greatly esteemed the German writer Friedrich Schiller (1759– 1805) as well as the Austrian author Franz Grillparzer (1791–1872).3 The national tensions existing between German- and Slav-speaking populations in the bilingual Habsburg crownland Moravia, where Emil lived with his family until his retirement in 1908, did not pass unnoticed by young Arthur. Arthur’s own comprehension of national ideas was not limited to culture, but also extended to politics.4 While his father was a loyal official of the Habsburg dynasty, a partisan of its multiethnic Empire, and a proponent of constitutional monarchy, Arthur refused to believe that the existing political order in Europe was a given. In this regard, he focused on peoples and nations as the principal agents of change in politics. The basically völkisch understanding of politics became more widespread after the Habsburg and Hohenzollern dynasties were forced to abdicate with the defeat of the Central Powers in the First World War. During the entire interwar period, combatting the prohibition against Anschluss that was ensconced in the treaties of Versailles and Saint-Germain was central to his publications and political activities. In his view, this prohibition infringed upon Woodrow Wilson’s Fourteen Points of January 1918, which seemed to call for the principle of national selfdetermination to shape the post-war order in Europe. While the states that broke away from Austria-Hungary were permitted to become independent nation-states and enjoyed the protection of the Allied powers, the same rights were denied to the German-speaking populations in Germany and Austria. Like the vast majority of Austrian people, Seyss-Inquart viewed this as blatantly unequal treatment. Similar to most of his contemporaries, he considered Germans and Austrians as one single people who were forced by the prevailing international order to live in distinct states against their will.5 In this context, it is revealing that he never referred to Austria as an autonomous national unit. Instead, he often talked about the Ostmarkdeutsche (Germans of the Eastern March), thus emphasizing their status as Germans historically, culturally, and racially. In a number of associations, like the Österreichisch-Deutscher Volksbund (Austrian-German People’s Association) and the Deutsche Gemeinschaft (German Community) he found a platform for expressing his Greater German nationalism and establishing contacts to like-minded persons during the 1920s and the following decade. At the latest in the beginning of the 1930s, a process of radicalization in SeyssInquart’s political attitudes can be discerned, which opened the door to National Socialism. In 1931, he joined the Austrian NSDAP and the Steirischer Heimat­ schutz, an openly militant faction of the semi-fascist Homeland Movement that later merged with the Austrian branch of Hitler’s party.6 Furthermore, he became a member of organizations that combined outspoken anti-Semitism with Greater German nationalism. Among them were the Verband deutsch-arischer Rechtsanwälte Österreichs (Union of German-Aryan Lawyers in Austria) and the Gesell­ schaft für Rechtswissenschaft (Association for Legal Science), which sought to

From Greater German Reich  59 disseminate in Austria knowledge about the National Socialist laws that were being passed in Germany. Anti-Semitism was nothing new to Seyss-Inquart. As a young man he joined associations such as a choral society in Baden (near Vienna) and a section of the Alpine Association (Alpenverein) that explicitly excluded Jews from membership. In the course of the 1930s, however, the mixture of anti-Semitism and nationalism visibly came to the fore when Seyss-Inquart increasingly strove to make a mark as a politician. Advocating for Anschluss through associations and earning money for his five-member family as a lawyer in Vienna did not satisfy him any longer. Particularly after Hitler had seized power in Germany, he felt the desire to act professionally as a politician in order to achieve the unification of Austria and Germany. To this end, the Third Reich seemed a more promising ally than the Weimar Republic had been. With the men now in power in Germany, Seyss-Inquart shared a deep-rooted anti-Semitism, racism, anti-communism, antiliberalism, and anti-parliamentarianism. In this short chapter it is not possible to describe Seyss-Inquart’s contribution to the actual realization of Anschluss. It must suffice to say that he first acted as a “bridge builder” of sorts between the Austrofascist system and the Third Reich. Later, he served as Austrian Minister of the Interior and briefly as Chancellor thanks to the intervention of the “Führer.”7 What has to be underlined here is that, before and after March 1938, he time and again looked upon the unification of his native country with Germany in a European context. He especially attributed to the Germans, including the “Ostmarkdeutsche,” responsibility for “organizing” the Danube region. For him, such a responsibility had resided for centuries with the German people and their Reich. Even the Paris peace treaties of 1919 could not kill this intrinsic German “Reichsgedanke.” In June 1937, Seyss-Inquart reminded the citizens of Germany and Austria alike that this joint responsibility for managing Europe had to be taken up again, as an obligation or even as a mission. Allegedly, this was not a matter of “an imperialistic urge for expansion.” Rather, the Reich had to be conceived of as a “moral idea and its fulfillment.”8 Seyss-Inquart did not specify what “organizing” precisely entailed. Did it mean serving as a role model in political and social affairs? Or rather establishing political domination and exploiting neighboring countries following military invasion? He also left open as to what he meant by the “Danube region.” Did it include Central Europe, Southeastern Europe, or both? Did the former borders of the Habsburg Empire constitute the territorial boundaries for this German “mission”? Or did Seyss-Inquart implicitly adopt and propagate Hitler’s concept of “living space,” including potential expansion to Eastern Europe? In the period preceding Anschluss, avoiding any semantic specification enabled Seyss-Inquart to curry favor with the governments both in Vienna and Berlin. For both regimes the notion of a Reich was vital, although each attached to this notion differing historical connotations, territorial expanses, and economic dimensions. Furthermore, notwithstanding the propagation of a particular “Austrian” ideology by the Austrofascist regime,9 Greater German nationalism offered an easy transition from Austrofascism to National Socialism. In this sense, Seyss-Inquart could

60  Johannes Koll afford to present to the Austrian Chancellor Kurt Schuschnigg his ideas about “organizing” a vast European region under German leadership according to racial criteria as an essential part of the “efforts of all Germans to secure their living space” (Bemühungen des Gesamtdeutschtums um seinen Lebensraum).10 At the same time, he could feel certain that his preoccupation with the Danube region was in line with the National Socialists’ longing to foster Anschluss and to dominate Central and/or Southeastern Europe.11 To both audiences he sent the message that, as part of the German nation, the Austrians were expected to participate in the realization of the “Reichsgedanke,” side by side with the German Reich. After Anschluss, Seyss-Inquart remained a proponent of these ideas. In a newspaper article titled “On the Militant Responsibilities of the Eastern March,” he stated in September 1939 that through the incorporation of the Ostmark, the liberation of the Sudeten Germans and the erection of the Protectorate of Bohemia and Moravia, the Reich has become once and for all the leading power in the center of Europe. With that it assumes a huge responsibility. Nobody else is able to guarantee freedom, order and prosperity to this region; therefore, the Reich is obliged to deploy its power in order to achieve this primary goal.12 Needless to say, Germany’s purported responsibilities included the repulsion of communism. Seyss-Inquart, who was appointed Reich Governor in March 1938, was convinced that no other nation had made more “blood sacrifices for the sake of Europe and the Abendland” by fending off the Mongolians, Turks, and “the Russian steamroller.” In addition, the Germans had repelled “the onslaught of the Bolsheviks on the abendländisch civilization.”13 Thus, even before the beginning of the Second World War, Seyss-Inquart claimed a leadership role for Germany within Europe, arguing that the Eastern March in particular should have dominion over the areas of Central and Southeastern Europe previously ruled by the Habsburg dynasty.14 By combining terms like “living space” and “power” with notions of “responsibility” and “morality,” he obfuscated the fact that the establishment of the Greater German Reich would necessarily be predicated on violent expansion. Did Seyss-Inquart even believe his own words when he talked about “freedom,” “order,” and “prosperity” just two days after the German army launched its invasion of Poland? Did he really believe that Germany would respect “the fulfillment of national rights and the interests of all peoples” in Central, Eastern, and Southeastern Europe?15

The Abendland and the Second World War In any event, the New Order that was introduced in the countries that were occupied by Germany from 1938 onward was certainly very different from the rhetoric that was espoused by Seyss-Inquart. From the beginning, an ideological war of extermination took place in Eastern Europe. At the same time, in Scandinavia and Western Europe, the occupational governments established by the National

From Greater German Reich  61 Socialist state sought to implement a “new order” with a mixture of propaganda, violent coercion, and incentives for local collaborators. As Deputy General Governor in Poland and Reich Commissioner in the Netherlands, Seyss-Inquart participated in both forms of National Socialist occupation regimes. During his time of service in Poland, Seyss-Inquart displayed the ideological thinking he had developed about Europe well before the start of the war. For example, in Seyss-Inquart’s eyes, the replacement of Polish courts by a German judicature was an expression of the mission of the German people to organize the region in the heart of Europe, now merged into a unit for peace and with a common destiny for the next generations, by the powerful hammer strokes of our Führer, the greatest and most ingenious architect of peoples and states. This German “mission” paved the way for a “European community with a common destiny,” or europäische Schicksalsgemeinschaft, which was based on “the honor of the Aryan and better blood, and on work for the social community of the entire people.” In this way, blood had to be seen as a “divinely ordained unity and the building block of mankind.”16 In this endeavor, no active role was attributed to the Polish people themselves. Seyss-Inquart had a completely different assessment of the population of the Netherlands, which were invaded by the Wehrmacht on 10 May 1940. The Dutch people were regarded as part of the “Germanic race.” According to Seyss-Inquart, the Dutch displayed “the same racial dispositions” as the Germans and were one of “peoples close to us on the basis of blood” (blutnahe Völker).17 It was against this backdrop that Seyss-Inquart – particularly in the months following the Blitzkrieg in the West – appealed to the Dutch to contribute to the establishment of a National Socialist order in Europe “on equal footing and as a highly productive partner.” Time and again, he reminded the inhabitants of the occupied Netherlands that ultimately their commitment would determine the position and political rele­ vance “destiny” would grant them in a post-war order.18 Curiously enough, he never clarified whether it was “commitment” or “destiny” that was the operative term. From the outset, one segment of the population in the Netherlands was exempted from participation in the construction of a new order – namely, the Jews. As an ardent anti-Semite, Seyss-Inquart characterized the Jews as a “born enemy of National Socialism and the New Order.” Therefore, Jews had to be eliminated from the “body of the Dutch people” (niederländischer Volkskörper) – regardless of whether they were natives or refugees from other European countries, such as Germany or Austria.19 Furthermore, because the European continent was defined as “the homeland and safe harbor for the Aryan people and the cultures resulting from their racial substance” (die Heim- und Schutzstätte der arisch bestimm­ ten Volkspersönlichkeiten und ihrer arteigenen aus ihrer rassischen Substanz entwickelten Kulturen), there was no place for Jews in the whole of Europe.20 Indeed, the segregation, deportation, and wholesale extermination of the Jews was

62  Johannes Koll a centerpiece of the National Socialist effort to erect a new order in Europe. Under Reich Commissioner Seyss-Inquart, anti-Semitic policy led some 107,000 of the 140,000 Jews who had been living in the Netherlands at the beginning of the invasion to be deported to “the East.” Just 5,200 of them survived the Holocaust.21 Starting with the assault on the Soviet Union in June  1941, Seyss-Inquart asserted there was another enemy of National Socialism: “Bolshevism.” Its repulsion and elimination was presented as a key task that the Dutch would have to perform alongside the Germans for the sake of Europe. It is remarkable that Seyss-Inquart’s notion of Bolshevism was associated neither with Stalin’s purges nor with the brutally enforced collectivization of agriculture, despite the obvious opportunities for contrasting the prosperity of the West with the economic misery and totalitarian tyranny of the Soviet dictatorship. Seyss-Inquart explicitly refused to see in Bolshevism a specific form of Marxism or Communism. Instead, he charged the term “Bolshevism” with a diffuse ethnic meaning. Bolshevism was defined as “the life form of the inner-Asian masses. . . , who, with their steppe mentality and without any individual personality, are repeatedly driven principally against their Western neighbors with unbelievable energy.”22 In using the term “steppe” – a common device in National Socialist rhetoric – Seyss-Inquart merged the “Slavic-Mongolian peoples” with “Bolshevism” and “the Jews” into an abominable threesome that had to be combatted.23 Preventing the spread of the Asiatic hordes was presented as Hitler’s historical mission; the National Socialist regime had rightly appointed itself the defender of the “European Abendland.”24 After the United States officially entered the war in December 1941, the struggle against “Americanism” was added to the fight against Bolshevism. SeyssInquart did not hesitate to impose a racial definition on the multiethnic United States as well. According to his interpretation, across the Atlantic Ocean lived “an intermixed people  .  .  . strongly characterized by Jewish and Negro traits” (“ein Mischvolk unorganischer Art . . . mit starkem jüdischen und negroiden Einschlag”).25 At the core, however, his use of the term “Americanism” represented a critique of the capitalist economic and social order. From an outside perspective, his propagandistic assault on capitalism seems inconsistent at first glance, as Seyss-Inquart often invoked individual effort, merit, and performance as cornerstones of a healthy society. Furthermore, despite massive state intervention into economic affairs, Germany remained a capitalist country; indeed, the National Socialist rise to power was founded on an alliance with big business.26 Therefore, why did Seyss-Inquart rhetorically denounce the capitalist order? The reason has to be found in his vision of National Socialist society: he reproached capitalism as an order based on individualism rather than an ethnically defined community, or Volksgemeinschaft. In this specific sense, Seyss-Inquart slandered democratic North America as “the epitome of large-scale capitalism” and as “an ally of Bolshevism.”27 Ultimately, the United States was seen as equally hostile towards Europe as the Soviet Union.28 According to this understanding of world affairs, Europe and Greater Germany found themselves not just geographically but also politically between East and West. In Seyss-Inquart’s view, geopolitics provided self-evident “arguments” for

From Greater German Reich  63 the necessity of repelling both “Bolshevism” and “Americanism.” The leadership role that fell to Germany in this area was viewed as a matter of course. In accordance with his earlier assertions of Germany’s moral obligation and right to build an enduring order in Europe, Seyss-Inquart proclaimed during his period service in the Netherlands that National Socialist Germany was acting not just for itself to combat “Americanism” and “Bolshevism” but also for the benefit of other European countries. He repeatedly declared that Greater Germany was fighting “for the freedom of the German and the European peoples.”29 By the same token, the status enjoyed by non-German countries in the post-war order would depend on their contribution to building Europe under the guidance of Germany. In this way, “a new Europe” would result from the relationships “which the people of the Greater German Reich under the leadership of Adolf Hitler have built during this decisive battle for Europe with the distinct European peoples and states.”30 In this sense, the invocation of a European sense of community served to motivate the Dutch to volunteer for the SS and Waffen-SS. After the Sixth Army was defeated at Stalingrad, the need of volunteers from non-German countries increased considerably. This was reflected, among other things, in the National Socialist discourse on “Europe.” In 1943, Nazi rhetoric about the role to be played by neighboring countries in establishing the new world order became more inclusive. Instead of repeatedly stressing German’s hegemonic role in Europe, mutual cooperation and voluntary commitment were underscored; occupied countries were courted, in a sense, as equal partners. Some voices even advocated establishing a federal structure for the post-war European order, with more or less equal rights for all future member states.31 Seyss-Inquart, for his part, never went so far. He did, however, refrain from vocally asserting Germany’s rights of dominion over non-German populations as explicitly as he had done before. In the first issue of the periodical Westland, which was founded by him in 1943, he instead showed respect for “the manifold personalities of the peoples of the European continent, which is composed of many different parts.” At the same time, he appealed to the “conscience of togetherness” among “us Europeans.”32 In November of the same year, he even presented a “European Charter” in which he simultaneously stressed the obligation of all European nations to defend and build a common living space, on the one hand, and “freedom for each people to live according to its own mode,” on the other.33 In the end, such pronouncements were no more than rhetorical concessions.34 In practice, they did not alter the power imbalance between Germany and the nations it occupied during the war, and, like many other National Socialists, Seyss-Inquart left no doubt that Germany would never renounce its claim as hegemon of Europe. As he explained in one of his printed pamphlets in the post-Stalingrad period, the Reich was destined to keep exerting a dominant influence over the European order, and in all respects the consolidation of the Reich had to precede the establishment of a “European community.”35 In Germany’s struggle against the East and the West, Seyss-Inquart ultimately saw the world as subdivided into four regions (Welträume, or “world spaces”). Each of them comprised “certain racial groups and forms of living and

64  Johannes Koll sociability, each of them relying on a specific worldview.” The “Eastern European Inner Asian region,” the “Western Hemisphere,” and, in particular, the part of Europe dominated by Germany were relevant to Germany’s sphere of influence. The fourth world space, according to Seyss-Inquart, was the “Greater East Asian region,” which was without immediate connection to Europe and implicitly ceded to the Axis power Japan.36 Obviously, for the sake of a global division of power, the National Socialist regime had come to terms with the conquest of Indonesia by Japanese forces in 1942. We do not know, however, how the Dutch responded to the notion that they should cede all claims to their former colony of Indonesia, as was implied by Seyss-Inquart’s division of the world.37 While the notion of “world spaces” was not immediately relevant to those residing in the occupied Netherlands, the call made by Reich Commissioner Seyss-Inquart for voluntary participation of the Dutch population in the war of the German Reich against East and West provided a clear frame of reference for the Dutch collaborators sided with the Germans. As Robert Grunert has shown, there was indeed intensive interaction on European matters between the German occupation regime and different factions within the biggest – and, from December 1941 onward, sole – collaboration party, the Nationaal-Socialistische Bewe­ ging (NSB).38 As in the case of French and Belgian collaboration, however, this did not prevent misconceptions from arising on both sides, nor the pursuit of alternate political goals on the part of the National Socialist Movement of the Netherlands. In any event, the members of the NSB were highly isolated within Dutch society during the entire war. The number of Dutch who were recruited for the German armed forces lagged far behind the expectations of German National Socialists and Dutch fascists alike. This provides further indication that the vast majority of Dutch people did not look favorably on Seyss-Inquart’s understanding of the new European order, or on participation in German war efforts. The Reich Commissioner appealed to a “common will for order” until the last phase of the war, yet to his deep disappointment, the “Germanic” Dutch people were less-than-willing allies.39 With the surrender of Germany in May 1945, not only the Greater German Reich and the occupation of the Netherlands came to an end; the vision of a racially based Europe guided by National Socialist Germany also collapsed forever.

Conclusion As illustrated in this chapter, the biographical analysis of a relatively prominent historical figure such as Arthur Seyss-Inquart can shed unique light on continuity and change in notions of Europe during the first half of the turbulent twentieth century. In the foregoing we saw that Seyss-Inquart’s political thinking and pronouncements were informed by a range of fixed and recurring ideas, including notions of racial community, militant anti-communism, and Germany’s historical “mission” as hegemon of Europe, to name but a few. At the same time, we can detect shifts in emphasis based on Germany’s war prospects and the current political situation. Whereas, before the war, Seyss-Inquart

From Greater German Reich  65 assigned priority to the unification of Austria with Germany, he later gave increasing emphasis to the Reichsgedanke, according to which the German-speaking population had a right to manage the entire Danube region both economically and politically. During the Second World War, Seyss-Inquart was involved in the expansion of the Greater German Reich and the establishment of occupational governments in Poland and the Netherlands. Especially in his post as Reich Commissioner in The Hague, he actively participated in conceiving and propagating ideas of “Europe” that were laden with variable meanings, subject to the changing fortunes of war. Yet despite its various permutations, rhetoric concerning “Europe,” the Abendland, and the “new order” ultimately served two goals. First, it legitimized and idealized Greater Germany’s dominance over the European continent while also concealing its singularly brutal character. Second, Seyss-Inquart sought to define himself as a preeminent expert on foreign affairs within the Nazi regime. At least in a formal sense, he achieved this goal by being appointed Foreign Minister to the cabinet of Admiral Karl Dönitz, as per Hitler’s Political Testament of 29 April 1945.40 However, this ostensible peak of his career remained without practical relevance because Dönitz refused to accept Seyss-Inquart as a member of his new government. And, in any event, in the final days of the war, Germany was in ruins and was no longer in a position to conduct foreign policy. On the whole, Seyss-Inquart’s contribution to the National Socialist discourse on “Europe” lacked conceptual originality. He tended to repeat perspectives that were developed and propagated by other politicians, intellectuals, and journalists loyal to the regime.41 This was true of various ideas, including Germany’s “organizing mission” in the East; the pretenses towards peaceful purposes and a historically justified responsibility; the necessity of repulsing Bolshevism and Americanism by military means; and the understanding of the Dutch as racial kinfolk. In all of his statements on European matters, Seyss-Inquart loyally expounded the shifting National Socialist propaganda about Europe. However, his ideological fealty did not just relate to the conceptual expansion of the “Third Reich” into the “Greater German Reich” and later into the “Greater Germanic Reich.”42 As we have seen, he also toed the party line in other areas: He advocated the right to national self-determination and the need for a revision of the Paris peace treaties on the basis of völkisch principles; later, he was a proponent of the relentless pursuit of “living space” and attempts to dominate non-German populations; and finally, he supported the increased recruitment of volunteers within occupied countries after Stalingrad, an effort which involved willingness to reassess the value of non-German peoples. It is hardly possible to conclude with confidence which of Seyss-Inquart’s diverse statements on “Europe” came from an inner urge and sincere political conviction, and which of them have to be regarded as mere lip service to the official line of thinking or were conditioned by mere tactical considerations. The historiographical assessment of his “European” engagement is further complicated by the fact that even to his contemporaries he was perceived as a reserved person with an impenetrable character. Since Seyss-Inquart played an active part in the

66  Johannes Koll German occupation of Eastern and Western Europe, there is, however, no getting around the fact that he was deeply involved in the effort to realize a form of European policy which, contrary to his assertions, did not lead to peace, prosperity, and stability, but rather to war and unprecedented destruction.

Notes * I am grateful to Dr. Armand Van Nimmen (Vienna) and Lucais Sewell (Berlin) for language edits. 1 For a biographical overview on Seyss-Inquart, see Hendricus Johannes Neuman, Arthur Seyss-Inquart (Graz, Vienna and Cologne: Verlag Styria, 1970) and Johannes Koll, “From the Habsburg Empire to the Third Reich: Arthur Seyß-Inquart and National Socialism,” in Austrian Lives, ed. Günter Bischof, Fritz Plasser, and Eva Maltschnig (New Orleans and Innsbruck: University of New Orleans Press and Innsbruck University Press, 2012), ­123–146 with further references. For his function in the occupied Netherlands, see Johannes Koll, Arthur Seyß-Inquart und die deutsche Besatzungspolitik in den Nieder­ landen (1940–1945) (Vienna, Cologne, and Weimar: Böhlau, 2015), which contains detailed references. The present article is based on chapter 13 of this monograph. 2 The usual translation “Christian West” for Abendland does not quite accord with Seyss-Inquart’s usage: For this devout National Socialist politician, Europe should be neither Christian nor part of the Western world. 3 For Schiller cf. the report in Mährischer Grenzbote of November 15, 1885; for Grillparzer K.K. Deutsches Staatsgymnasium Olmütz: Chronik der Anstalt, State District Archive, Olomouc (Státní okresní archive Olomouc, SOkA Olomouc), Německé státní gymnazium, coll. M 5–34 (commemorative speech of January 21, 1891). 4 See his letter to Egon Kornauth, September 1910, Vienna library in the City Hall, collection of autographs, Vienna (Wienbibliothek im Rathaus, Handschriftensammlung, WBR), Arthur Seyss-Inquart, H.I.N. 205.784/14. 5 Arthur Seyss-Inquart, “Die unveräusserlichen Rechte,” Alpenländische Korres­ pondenz, no. 5, December 30 (1937): 1–3. 6 Michael E. Holzmann, Die österreichische SA und ihre Illusion von “Großdeutschland,” vol. 1: Völkischer Nationalismus in Österreich bis 1933 (Berlin: Pro BUSINESS, 2011), 212–214. 7 For details, see Wolfgang Rosar, Deutsche Gemeinschaft: Seyss-Inquart und der Anschluß (Vienna, Frankfurt am Main and Zurich: Europa Verlag, 1971). 8 Arthur Seyss-Inquart, “Weg und Ziel,” Die Warte: Deutsche Blätter aus Österreich für Geschichte, Literatur und Wirtschaft 2, no. 7 (1937): 1. Cf. also the speech he gave on 5 March 1938 in Linz (Upper Austria) according to the unpublished manuscript in the Archives of the Institute of Contemporary History, Munich (Archiv des Instituts für Zeitgeschichte, IfZ), ED 116, vol. 2, fol. 63. 9 Cf. Anton Staudinger, “ʻAustria' – The Ideology of Austrofascism,” in Austria in the Thirties: Culture and Politics, ed. Kenneth Segar and John Warren (Riverside: Ariadne Press, 1991), 1–24. 10 Seyss-Inquart to the Austrian Chancellor Kurt Schuschnigg, June  21, 1937, Federal Archives Koblenz (Bundesarchiv Koblenz, BArch Koblenz), N 1180/1. 11 Theo Habicht, “Vorwort,” in Das Dienstbuch der NSDAP. Oesterreichs (Hitlerbewegung), ed. Landesleitung Oesterreichs der NSDAP., Hitlerbewegung (Wels: Joh. Haas, 1932). 12 Arthur Seyß-Inquart, “Die kämpferischen Aufgaben der Ostmark,” Salzburger Volks­ blatt, September 2, 1939, contained in the Federal Archives Berlin (Bundesarchiv Berlin, BArch Berlin), R 8034/III-443, fol. 59. 13 From this Seyss-Inquart deduced the “inalienable right” to establish “the order of the living space which is given to us for the benefit of those who show willingness to live inside this space.” Cited from the manuscript of a speech that Seyss-Inquart gave on

From Greater German Reich  67

14

15 16

17 18 19

20 21 22 23 24 25 26

27 28

29

29 November  1938 in the former Moravian town Troppau/Opava. BArch Koblenz, N 1180/62, in the manuscript fol. 6–7. A shortened version was published in the Neue Freie Presse on 30 November 1938. Cf. also Johannes Koll, “Profilierung im prekären Staat: Zu Karrieremustern im Dritten Reich am Beispiel von Arthur Seyß-Inquart,” in Entrepreneurship in schwierigen Zeiten: Unternehmertum, Karrieren und Umbrüche während der ersten Hälfte des 20. Jahrhunderts – Beiträge gesammelt zu Ehren von Peter Berger, ed. Peter Eigner, Herbert Matis, and Andreas Resch (Vienna: LIT, 2013), 259–308. Seyss-Inquart, “Die kämpferischen Aufgaben der Ostmark,” Salzburger Volksblatt, September 2, 1939, contained in BArch Berlin, R 8034/III-443, fol. 59. Cited after Krakauer Zeitung, April 13, 1940. In his farewell speech of 22 May 1940, Seyss-Inquart once again invoked the term “mission”: “the German labor in the East is a mission for the German history, since the main focus of German deployment is to be found in the East.” Cited after Warschauer Zeitung, May 24, 1940, contained in BArch Koblenz, ZSg. 103/8644. Arthur Seyss-Inquart, “Versammlung des Arbeitsbereiches der NSDAP. Amsterdam, 12. März 1941.” Printed in idem, Vier Jahre in den Niederlanden: Gesammelte Reden (Amsterdam et al.: Volk und Reich Verlag, 1944), 40. Arthur Seyss-Inquart, “Versammlung der AO der NSDAP. Den Haag, 26. Juli 1940,” ibid., 27, 29–30. Arthur Seyss-Inquart, “Die politische Aufgabe des Reichskommissars,” Reich – Volks­ ordnung – Lebensraum: Zeitschrift für völkische Verfassung und Verwaltung 2 (1942): 13. Similarly his speech in Heerlen on 20 April 1943 as cited in the Deutsche Zeitung in den Niederlanden issued on the following day. Arthur Seyss-Inquart, Idee und Gestalt des Reiches (s.l. s.a. [1943 or 1944]), 31. For a comprehensive account of the well investigated history of the persecution of the Jews in the Netherlands see Katja Happe, Viele falsche Hoffnungen. Judenverfolgung in den Niederlanden 1940–1945 (Paderborn et al.: Schöningh, 2017). Arthur Seyss-Inquart, “Zum Geleit,” Westland: Blätter für Landschaft, Geschichte und Kultur an Rhein, Mosel, Maas und Schelde, no. 1 (1943): 3. Arthur Seyss-Inquart, Unsere Aufgabe: Vortrag, gehalten auf der Befehlshabertagung in Bad Schachen am 12. Oktober 1943, ed. NS-Führungsstab des Oberkommandos der Wehrmacht (s.l. s.a. [1943]), 15. Arthur Seyss-Inquart, “Zu Führers Geburtstag: Heerlen, 20. April  1943,” printed in idem, Vier Jahre in den Niederlanden, 155. Seyss-Inquart, Unsere Aufgabe, 17. Similarly idem, “Zum 9. November: Utrecht, 7. November 1943,” printed in idem, Vier Jahre in den Niederlanden, 190. For an overview see Norbert Frei and Tim Schanetzky, eds., Unternehmen im Nationalsozialismus: Zur Historisierung einer Forschungskonjunktur (Göttingen: Wallstein, 2010), with critical remarks by Marc Buggeln in the review on H-Soz-Kult, 24.11.2011, www.hsozkult.de/publicationreview/id/rezbuecher-15292, and Jochen Streb, “Das nationalsozialistische Wirtschaftssystem: Indirekter Sozialismus, gelenkte Marktwirtschaft oder vorgezogene Kriegswirtschaft?” in Der Staat und die Ordnung der Wirtschaft: Vom Kaiserreich bis zur Berliner Republik, ed. Werner Plumpe and Joachim Scholtyssek (Stuttgart: Steiner, 2012). Seyss-Inquart in his speech on the occasion of the eleventh centenary of the founding of the National Socialist Movement of the Netherlands, cited after Deutsche Allgemeine Zeitung, December 15, 1942. Arthur Seyss-Inquart, “Antrittsrede des Präsidenten der Deutschen Akademie Reichsminister Dr. Arthur Seyss-Inquart,” in Reden aus Anlaß der Amtseinführung des Präsidenten der Deutschen Akademie Reichsminister Dr. Seyss-Inquart, ed. Deutsche Akademie (s.l. s.a. [Munich 1944]), 41–42. Ibid., 48.

68  Johannes Koll 30 Seyss-Inquart, “Unsere Aufgabe,” 22–23. Similar idem, “Zu Führers Geburtstag: Nimwegen, 20. April 1944,” Printed in idem, Vier Jahre in den Niederlanden, 215, 217. 31 Cf. Hans Werner Neulen, Europa und das 3. Reich: Einigungsbestrebungen im deutschen Machtbereich 1939–45 (Munich: Universitas, 1987), 37–46. In an almost paradigmatic way, the political realignment of the year 1943 was expressed in an article published under the auspices of the Foreign Office. According to its unknown author (pseudonym: Hermann Stein), the “European family of nations” rested upon both “commonality” and “distinctive value.” The emergence of a pertinent “European consciousness” was regarded as “the highest benefit” of a war in which the German army was supposed to fight as a “European unit” in the East (“Europäisches Bewußtsein,” in Europa: Handbuch der politischen, wirtschaftlichen und kulturellen Entwicklung des neuen Europa, ed. Deutsches Institut für Außenpolitische Forschung (Leipzig: Helingsche Verlagsanstalt, 1943), 17, 16, 19). 32 Seyss-Inquart, “Zum Geleit,” 3. 33 Cited after the Dutch journal De Residentiebode of 30 November  1943, contained in the Institute for War, Holocaust, and Genocide Studies, Amsterdam (Instituut voor Oorlogs-, Holocaust- en Genocidestudies, NIOD), KA I 3409. 34 After the war, Seyss-Inquart frankly admitted the “propagandistic character” of National Socialist discourse on “Europe” after Stalingrad. See his typescript Einige Bemerkungen zur Lage (July 1945), Archives of the Austrian Society for Contemporary History, Vienna (Archiv der Österreichischen Gesellschaft für Zeitgeschichte, AOeGZ), NL-61/Gustav Steinbauer, DO 678, file 152, fol. 14. 35 Seyss-Inquart, “Idee und Gestalt des Reiches,” 34. 36 Seyss-Inquart, “Antrittsrede des Präsidenten der Deutschen Akademie,” 39–40. In addition, Seyss-Inquart explained on 10 February 1944: “From the point of view of global politics, all other regions lack framing force.” Ibid., 40. Similarly idem, “Zum 9. November: Utrecht, 7. November 1943,” 187. 37 For Dutch notions of “Empire” and colonies cf. Jennifer L. Foray, Visions of Empire in the Nazi-Occupied Netherlands (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2012). 38 Robert Grunert, Der Europagedanke westeuropäischer faschistischer Bewegungen 1940–1945 (Paderborn et al.: Schöningh, 2012). 39 Arthur Seyss-Inquart, Was nun? Fragen in ernster Stunde an das niederländische Volk: Rundfunkansprache des Reichskommissars Dr. Seyss-Inquart am 7. Januar 1945 (s.l. s.a. [1945]), 15. Some weeks after D-Day, Seyss-Inquart admitted self-critically and plainly that Germany’s pretense of fighting for Europe had not been accepted outside the Reich “because Europe believes that Germany is fighting for a European continent dominated by Germany.” Nevertheless, on the same occasion, he conveyed confidence that the Greater German Reich would not only be recognized, but even esteemed and looked for as a regulatory power factor by European states and peoples (Arthur SeyssInquart, “Worum es geht. Worte an die Führer der H.J. nach einer Ansprache in der Akademie für Jugendführung am 14. Juli 1944” [s.l. 1944], 44). 40 BArch Koblenz, N 1128/23. 41 For National Socialist ideas about “Europe” in general, cf. Jürgen Elvert, Mitteleuropa! Deutsche Pläne zur europäischen Neuordnung (1918–1945) (Stuttgart: Steiner, 1999), 219 et seqq. 42 Cf. also Mark Mazower, Hitler’s Empire: Nazi Rule in Occupied Europe (London: Allen Lane, 2008), chap. 17.

Bibliography Archives AOeGZ: Archives of the Austrian Society for Contemporary History (Archiv der Österreichischen Gesellschaft für Zeitgeschichte), Vienna.

From Greater German Reich  69 BArch Berlin: Federal Archives Berlin (Bundesarchiv Berlin), Berlin. BArch Koblenz: Federal Archives Koblenz (Bundesarchiv Koblenz), Koblenz. IfZ Munich: Archives of the Institute of Contemporary History (Archiv des Instituts für Zeitgeschichte), Munich. NIOD: Institute for War, Holocaust, and Genocide Studies (Instituut voor Oorlogs-, Holocaust- en Genocidestudies), Amsterdam. SOkA Olomouc: State District Archive (Státní okresní archiv), Olomouc. WBR: Vienna library in the City Hall, collection of autographs (Wienbibliothek im Rathaus, Handschriftensammlung), Vienna.

Books and articles Elvert, Jürgen. Mitteleuropa! Deutsche Pläne zur europäischen Neuordnung (1918–1945). Stuttgart: Steiner, 1999. Foray, Jennifer L. Visions of Empire in the Nazi-Occupied Netherlands. New York: Cambridge University Press, 2012. Frei, Norbert, and Tim Schanetzky, eds. Unternehmen im Nationalsozialismus: Zur Historisierung einer Forschungskonjunktur. Göttingen: Wallstein, 2010. Grunert, Robert. Der Europagedanke westeuropäischer faschistischer Bewegungen 1940– 1945. Paderborn et al.: Schöningh, 2012. Habicht, Theo. “Vorwort.” In Das Dienstbuch der NSDAP. Oesterreichs (Hitlerbewegung), edited by Landesleitung Oesterreichs der NSDAP, Hitlerbewegung. Wels: Joh. Haas, 1932. Happe, Katja. Viele falsche Hoffnungen. Judenverfolgung in den Niederlanden 1940–1945. Paderborn et al.: Schöningh, 2017. Holzmann, Michael E. Die österreichische SA und ihre Illusion von “Großdeutschland,” vol. 1: Völkischer Nationalismus in Österreich bis 1933. Berlin: Pro BUSINESS, 2011. Koll, Johannes. Arthur Seyß-Inquart und die deutsche Besatzungspolitik in den Niederlanden (1940–1945). Vienna, Cologne, and Weimar: Böhlau, 2015. ———. “From the Habsburg Empire to the Third Reich: Arthur Seyß-Inquart and National Socialism.” In Austrian Lives, edited by Günter Bischof, Fritz Plasser, and Eva Maltschnig, 123–146. New Orleans and Innsbruck: University of New Orleans Press and Innsbruck University Press, 2012. ———. “Profilierung im prekären Staat: Zu Karrieremustern im Dritten Reich am Beispiel von Arthur Seyß-Inquart.” In Entrepreneurship in schwierigen Zeiten: Unternehmertum, Karrieren und Umbrüche während der ersten Hälfte des 20. Jahrhunderts – Beiträge gesammelt zu Ehren von Peter Berger, edited by Peter Eigner, Herbert Matis, and Andreas Resch, 259–308. Vienna: LIT, 2013. Mazower, Mark. Hitler’s Empire: Nazi Rule in Occupied Europe. London: Allen Lane, 2008. Neulen, Hans Werner. Europa und das 3. Reich: Einigungsbestrebungen im deutschen Machtbereich 1939–45. Munich: Universitas, 1987. Neuman, Hendricus Johannes. Arthur Seyss-Inquart. Graz, Vienna and Cologne: Verlag Styria, 1970. Rosar, Wolfgang. Deutsche Gemeinschaft: Seyss-Inquart und der Anschluß. Vienna, Frankfurt am Main and Zurich: Europa Verlag, 1971. Seyss-Inquart, Arthur. “Antrittsrede des Präsidenten der Deutschen Akademie Reichsmi­ nister Dr. Arthur Seyss-Inquart.” In Reden aus Anlaß der Amtseinführung des Präsiden­ ten der Deutschen Akademie Reichsminister Dr. Seyss-Inquart, edited by Deutsche Akademie, 23–48. S.l. s.a. [Munich 1944].

70  Johannes Koll ———. “Die kämpferischen Aufgaben der Ostmark.” Salzburger Volksblatt, September 2, 1939. ———. “Die politische Aufgabe des Reichskommissars.” Reich  – Volksordnung – Lebensraum: Zeitschrift für völkische Verfassung und Verwaltung 2 (1942): 9–14. ———. “Die unveräusserlichen Rechte.” Alpenländische Korrespondenz, no. 5, December 30 (1937): 1–3. ———. Idee und Gestalt des Reiches. S.l. s.a. 1943 or 1944. ———. Unsere Aufgabe: Vortrag, gehalten auf der Befehlshabertagung in Bad Schachen am 12. Oktober 1943, edited by NS-Führungsstab des Oberkommandos der Wehrmacht. S.l. s.a. 1943. ———. Vier Jahre in den Niederlanden: Gesammelte Reden. Amsterdam: Volk und Reich Verlag, 1944. ———. Was nun? Fragen in ernster Stunde an das niederländische Volk. Rundfunk­ ansprache des Reichskommissars Dr. Seyss-Inquart am 7. Januar 1945. S.l. s.a. [1945]. ———. “Weg und Ziel.” Die Warte: Deutsche Blätter aus Österreich für Geschichte, Lite­ ratur und Wirtschaft 2, no. 7 (1937): 1–2. ———. “Worum es geht: Worte an die Führer der H.J. nach einer Ansprache in der Akade­ mie für Jugendführung am 14. Juli 1944.” [S.l. 1944]. ———. “Zum Geleit.” Westland: Blätter für Landschaft, Geschichte und Kultur an Rhein, Mosel, Maas und Schelde, no. 1 (1943): 3. Staudinger, Anton. “ʻAustria' – The Ideology of Austrofascism.” In Austria in the Thirties: Culture and Politics, edited by Kenneth Segar and John Warren, 1–24. Riverside: Ariadne Press, 1991. Stein, Hermann (pseudonym). “Europäisches Bewußtsein.” In Europa: Handbuch der politischen, wirtschaftlichen und kulturellen Entwicklung des neuen Europa, edited by Deutsches Institut für Außenpolitische Forschung, 15–19. Leipzig: Helingsche Verlags­ anstalt, 1943. Streb, Jochen. “Das nationalsozialistische Wirtschaftssystem: Indirekter Sozialismus, gelenkte Marktwirtschaft oder vorgezogene Kriegswirtschaft?” In Der Staat und die Ordnung der Wirtschaft: Vom Kaiserreich bis zur Berliner Republik, edited by Werner Plumpe and Joachim Scholtyssek, 61–83. Stuttgart: Steiner, 2012.

4 Nazi plans for a new European order and European responses Tim Kirk

By the summer of 1940 a German victory seemed both inevitable and imminent. The speed and completeness with which the Wehrmacht occupied much of Western Europe was overwhelming, and left people across the continent rethinking the future. Speculation was rife, both in the Reich and abroad, about the nature of the “new order” that would reshape the continent. Yet although countless plans and memoranda were gestated behind closed doors, there were few public statements from the top and even the Nazi propaganda apparatus was at first uncharacteristically reticent. Indeed Hitler himself was particularly unforthcoming on the matter. He rarely used the term “new order,” and was reluctant to commit himself to any firm plans before the war was over. The statements of other leading Nazis were equally vague, and were initially restricted to the matter of what territorial revisions might come out of the victory over France. They also tended to reflect individual preoccupations: some focused on the economic integration of Europe, others dwelt on the creation of a racial “new order” based on Germanization, resettlement, and the attempt to create ethnically homogeneous territories.1 There was no master plan or program for the imposition of German hegemony in Europe either during or after the war. The political arrangements of the annexed and occupied territories, whether nominally under military or civilian occupation, reflected the domestic disorder of Germany’s “polycratic” political system itself. Institutions and organizations competed abroad just as they did at home; and the SS, the Nazi Party, and a diverse range of business interests sought to assert their own positions alongside the armed forces, the diplomatic service, and, not least, native elites and interest groups in the respective occupied territories (who were in turn riven with internal conflict).2 Although this was not yet the “new order” of the post-war future, the discussion about the shaping of the new Europe reflected the same diversity of interests and range of opinions from pragmatists to utopian ideologues. It was a discussion that was conducted in part internally, in the memoranda and reports that passed between government departments, business leaders, and bureaucrats, including the staff of the many ad hoc hybrid organizations that proliferated in the Third Reich; and while much of this discussion was focused on the short-term needs of the occupation and the war economy, there was also a strain of longer-term thinking, particularly among the radicals who looked forward to a new racial order. At the same time there was a wider and

72  Tim Kirk more thoughtful public discussion about the future of Europe taking place among politicians, journalists, and academics in the capitals of “Axis Europe”. Public speeches, press commentary, and specialist articles articulated the assumptions about the future that took hold in the wake of Germany’s perceived victory in 1940, and shaped the expectations of the political, intellectual, and administrative elites of the day. This public discussion of the new European order took place largely over the heads of most Europeans. On the ground, beyond the world of policy, planning, and pamphleteering, the triumph of the Axis in 1940 precipitated a personal and collective crisis for individuals and families across the continent. Those who had earlier sought refuge in France, the Low Countries, or Scandinavia were now forced to move on again (“changing countries more often than shoes,” as Brecht put it);3 and new refugees fled from Western Europe itself. Others went underground, either into hiding or to resist in one way or another. The vast majority, who remained at home and at work, were compelled to work out a modus vi­vendi with the new political authorities.4 For many months the only future people could look forward to was one dominated by defeat, occupation, and subjection to Nazi Germany, and expediency was bound to play a part in the way they came to terms with it. For most people there was no clear-cut resistance or collaboration, but shifting degrees of accommodation; opposition was often a temporary response to specific measures or policies, and the level of compliance or dissent varied according to the social and political background of the people involved. Some were actively “working towards the leader(ship),” wherever that might be perceived to lie, throwing in their lot with the “new order” and taking the opportunities it had to offer. Others nominally accepted the new dispensation, but were intent on imposing on it their own interpretations, accommodating to the new situation in order to pursue their own agendas, or merely to preserve what they could of their family life, business, or social status, often hoping that the “new” order meant the restoration of a way of life that seemed to have disappeared after the First World War. As the French ambassador in Berne observed of his countrymen in November 1940, those most likely to collaborate with Nazi Germany were those who still had something to lose, and feared that the alternative to German control was chaos.5 This study seeks to recover something of the lost or suppressed mentalities of “Axis Europe” in the early 1940s by exploring European responses to some of the ideas associated with the Nazi new order. The focus will initially be on Nazi thinking about Europe, and about Germany’s role in the shaping and reshaping of the continent. Fundamental to this discussion was the widespread belief, within and beyond the völkisch right, that with the French revolution and the rise of liberalism, Europe had taken a wrong turn, the culmination of which was the imposition of a post-war order in 1919 that denied the true nature of Europe and frustrated the aspirations of Europeans. Thus while German propaganda about the coming post-war order was unambiguous about the leadership role of the Reich, the narrative it adopted was one of a united European front against the threat from powers alien to the continent (raumfremde Mächte): “plutocracy” in the West and

Nazi plans for a new European order  73 “Bolshevism” in the East; and while the new European order would safeguard the continent from the latter, its principal argument, certainly in the months following the fall of France, was with the former. The starting point of Nazi-European propaganda was a critique of liberalism, which built on established prejudices against French “civilization” and British imperialism that had been deployed in German propaganda and public discussion during the First World War. Such ideas found a wider resonance in Germany, not least among the German business community where many saw German political hegemony in Europe as a vehicle for an integrated European economy with Germany at its core. In short, a “new order” presupposed the sweeping away of an old order, and the prevailing order was that of the liberal West. The reception of Nazi-European propaganda varied according to the audience, but was by no means always predictable. While prominent right-wing politicians and intellectuals across Europe were broadly enthusiastic about the possibilities of the “new Europe,” they invariably had their own agendas and many were to be disappointed. Inevitably, most of the fascists and conservatives who collaborated with the Nazis were also nationalists in their own cause, hoping to pursue revisionist or expansionist aims within the New Order. Press discussion in Axis Europe’s emergent public sphere took as its starting point the assumption that a Germany victory would be followed by a “post-liberal order” uniting Europe in defense of its cultural heritage against Anglo-Saxon consumerism on the one hand and the Asiatic barbarism of the steppe on the other. The discussion was subtly modified to reflect the national context, enabling each country to emphasize the contribution its own national culture had made to the common heritage. Much of this pamphleteering activity circulated only within a very narrow elite, albeit an influential one. Such responses are the subject of the second part of the chapter, which includes a particular focus on the ambivalent discussion of the new Europe in Budapest as reflected in the journal Donaueuropa to which prominent Hungarians and Germans both contributed. Insofar as it trickled down to a wider public the message was much cruder, and one primarily of economic promises in the wake of the depression. Nazi propaganda repudiated the universalism of free market economics, arguing instead that a planned, integrated continental economy, managed by Germany, would better serve European interests. This was a message that appealed to many business people. Popular opinion was less reliable. Despite its intended populist appeal – anti-capitalism for the workers, and the reaffirmation of traditional values for the peasants – popular sympathy for Nazi Germany and its allies was limited in the first place, and further eroded by the impact of war and occupation.

Germany and Europe in Nazi “New Order” ideology and propaganda Although the rhetoric of a new European order would be dressed up in talk of the Reich’s historic leadership role in European history and the civilizing impact of German culture, the immediate focus in 1940 was essentially economic. The

74  Tim Kirk alternative to the global free market would be a system based on self-contained and self-sufficient regional blocs, or Großräume. This was an idea that drew both on the Mitteleuropa ideology of the First World War, and on a long-standing critique of “classical” economics and its universalist claims.6 As a starting point for the Europe-wide discussion of the new Europe during the early 1940s, it was a flexible enough idea to suggest a pragmatic political and economic integration of the continent for those who chose to read it that way, while leaving the definition of German leadership and political relations within the European “family of nations” (Völkerfamilie) vague and open-ended. The idea of Großraumpolitik came to the fore internationally on the eve of the war. During the 1930s German foreign policy had been driven by challenges to the Treaty of Versailles and the aspiration to unite all Germans in a single state, culminating in the annexation of Austria and the Sudetenland. The occupation of Bohemia and Moravia, however, indicated that the regime’s aims went beyond revisionism or claims to territory inhabited predominantly by Germans. Speaking at the University of Kiel in 1939, the Reich’s most prominent constitutional lawyer, Carl Schmitt, addressed the new situation that had arisen from the German dismemberment of Czechoslovakia, and outlined the basis for a new system of international law to accommodate the realities of the new political order. His starting point was the concept of the Großraum, a larger region that would transcend and supersede the sovereign nation-state, and which called into question the whole basis of prevailing international law. The “universalist” claims of international law, Schmitt argued, were a cover for the particular interests of the dominant “plutocratic” power, and they constituted a license for intervention if such a power felt its strategic interests to be threatened. As an example he cited the principle of British maritime security as rationale for the protection of British interests among the scattered possessions (Streu-Besitz) of the British Empire – which he considered an “incoherent” conglomeration of territories. He contrasted this with the role of the United States in the Western hemisphere, citing the Monroe Doctrine as the model for an inviolable regional sphere of interest on contiguous territory, and the precedent for the successful application of Großraumpolitik. This “spatial” dimension was the indispensable rationale for an international law that was not only sound, but also dynamic, insofar as it did not merely serve to protect the status quo. Germany, he argued, now found itself the dominant power at the center of just such a Großraum. By asserting its right to protect the interests of German minorities in Central and Eastern Europe regardless of national sovereignty or international law, the Reich had repudiated the universalist claim of the Western Powers and their international institutions to intervene in the affairs of the region. Whether the Großraum was Central Europe or the whole of Europe was left undefined.7 Similarly, self-sufficient regional economic blocs based on the principle of Großraumwirtschaft were intended to replace the global system of free trade, which was widely deemed to have failed catastrophically during the Depression. It was a concept which built on challenges to the precepts of classical liberalism dating back to the work of the early nineteenth-century nationalist economist

Nazi plans for a new European order  75 Friedrich List, and had been energetically promoted by “reform” economists during the early 1930s, not least Werner Daitz, a long-standing enthusiast and promoter of the idea.8 It also reflected the drive from the later 1930s to broaden the basis of Germany’s “autarky” by establishing control over the economy of Central and Southeastern Europe.9 The military victories in 1940 then enabled the regime to extend its control into Western Europe, creating the basis for a self-sufficient continental economy that would enable Europe to resist domination by AngloAmerican “plutocracy” – and, more immediately, strengthen its resolve against the Allied blockade. While the concept of Großraum could provide a framework within which pragmatists and radicals could come together, the Nazi new order was nothing, ultimately, without its racial dimension. Thus, while Schmitt was seen by many, and particularly by foreign observers, as Hitler’s court lawyer, speaking on behalf of the regime, his thesis provoked internal criticism; and while this was partly for reasons of personal antipathy and political rivalry, it was also on ideological grounds. Schmitt’s views had been frowned on by some senior Nazis since 1936, primarily for not sufficiently endorsing the racial basis of all geopolitics. He distinguished very clearly between Lebensraum, which he understood as a function of demographic developments, and Großraum as a political strategy; and it cannot have helped that foreign commentators understood this, and distinguished between his work and that of publicists they dubbed more crudely racist.10 So although Hitler himself took up the idea of the Monroe Doctrine in a speech on foreign policy, Schmitt’s theories could not but be a point of reference even for his enemies in the party, not least those associated with the journal Reich, Volks­ ordnung, Lebensraum, where several critical engagements with Schmitt’s ideas were later published.11 Fundamental both to Schmitt’s concept of Großraum and to the geopolitical ideology of his opponents was an objection to the “universalist” claims of liberal ideology, which were interpreted as a self-appointed right to interfere in the affairs of other regions and other states wherever the commercial interests of the dominant liberal trading empires were threatened. Werner Daitz, the regime’s most enthusiastic promoter of the idea of Großraumwirtschaft, had addressed precisely this issue in a lecture given before the war, arguing that unlike the degenerate, universalist “money imperialisms” of the West, which threatened the sovereignty of smaller states on the European periphery by lending them money without increasing trade, Germany would ensure their sovereignty within a trading community under the leadership of the Reich.12 Quite what “sovereignty” might mean in this context was a contested point. Leading Nazis were skeptical to say the least of the notion that post-war Europe would see the emergence of a community of nations where Germany would be the first among equals. Wilhelm Stuckart, state secretary in the Interior Ministry, argued that the introduction into international law of the principle of Lebensraum was to extend the concept of Volksgemeinschaft into that of Völkergemeinschaft, an arrangement in which absolute national sovereignty was subordinated to the greater good of the community of nations under the guidance of the “leading

76  Tim Kirk nation” (Führungsvolk).13 More extreme proposals with an SS racial inflection foresaw the integration of much of Europe into the Reich as Gaue or Reichsländer.14 After 1943 in particular there was increasing concern that such an approach was counterproductive, and a more conciliatory tone was adopted.15 In March of that year Goebbels assured a Danish newspaper that the New Order would be based on free negotiation, not dictatorship;16 but a few weeks later he recorded in his diary a discussion with Hitler that dispelled any notion that there had been a change of attitude at the top: The Führer has concluded that the clutter of small states that persist to this day in Europe must be liquidated as soon as possible. To create a unitary Europe must remain the purpose of our struggle. Only the Germans can organise Europe properly however. There is effectively no other organising power to be had. The Reich, Hitler went on to assert, “will one day rule the whole of Europe.”17 What was Germany saying to Europe in the summer of 1940? Did the formulas and slogans repeated in radio broadcasts and print propaganda reflect the discussions of German politicians and planners? As soon as the armistice with France was signed, Goebbels ordered the foregrounding of “the England theme.” Churchill’s statement that Britain was now the last guardian of European liberty was to be countered by presenting a conflict of interests between continental Europe and the “plutocratic” British. The German foreign language service was to deliberately and systematically operate with slogans on the lines of “Nations of Europe: Britain is organising your starvation.”18 This set up a dominant theme in the propaganda confrontation between the British emphasis on freedom and the German riposte that freedom did not put bread on the table, indeed “freedom” – economic liberalism – had failed Europe and the world.19 In the wake of the victories in the West, propaganda broadcasts aimed at Europe and North America conveyed the gist of the message: Germany puts new ideas at the disposal of Europe, as well as a tested economic system. Germany assures the continent stable markets, a stable currency sheltered from economic crisis and a just exchange of goods based on equal rights for all states, great or small. Capitalistic exploitation of the weak by the strong will become impossible, and the pleasure of production will increase. The new economic conception implies the end of unemployment in Europe. Its moral base is the dignity of labour, and the loyal collaboration of everyone. Germany has no intention of imposing her racial system on other nations, but she is convinced that her social system leaves alone the national framework, and is the very expression of the exigencies of the twentieth century.20 The Axis message, like that of domestic propaganda, varied according to the intended audience or readership, but there were constant leitmotifs, above all

Nazi plans for a new European order 77 the triumph of public or collective good over sectional interests and the elimination of “plutocracy.” Individual interests would be subordinated to those of the state, which would act on behalf of a “strong and happy community” through the planned deployment of capital. In broadcasts aimed at Western Europe there was an appeal to labor: Europe’s new-found prosperity would not be created by “a bunch of capitalists and speculators, but by the working masses themselves,” and the emphasis would not be on money, but “labor in its full glory.”21 Elsewhere, particularly in the message transmitted to Catholic southern Europe, there was a strong emphasis on traditional values and institutions, on the return to “a natural order in politics” and the “recognition of a natural hierarchy.” Family, farming, and peasants’ rights were recurrent themes. Germany would address the problems faced by European agriculture and ensure a “renaissance of the peasant class.”22 This was a theme that caught British counter-propagandists on the back foot: policymakers in London recognized the attractiveness of Germany’s appeal to countries where agrarian economies had been devastated by overseas competition, but they admitted that Britain struggled to grasp the problems of agriculture or the concerns of European peasants.23

Responses at the official level Responses from Germany’s Axis partners were less forthcoming. In 1942 an official in the foreign office noted that neither Germany’s allies nor neutral governments seemed keen to engage with Germany in public, even in general terms, about the shaping of post-war Europe. The only openly positive response of any substance had come from Finland, where even anglophile circles had been persuaded by events that “only a Europe under strong German leadership could hold back the tide of Bolshevism.” An overview of the impact of German proposals, such as they were, could only be pieced together by gleaning the “wishes, expectations and fears of European nations” from routine diplomatic reports and anecdotal material reflecting the outlook of a very narrow political class. Yet, uneven as this evidence was, it did indicate strikingly similar views across the continent. Above all it was very clear that most states were more intent on pursuing their own objectives, particularly revisionist or irredentist claims, than on subordinating their national interests to a common European agenda.24 Italy had consistently pursued its own plans for domination of the Mediterranean, albeit with limited success, and continued to stake its claim to territorial acquisitions in the region.25 All the Nazi puppet states of Central and Southeastern Europe from Slovakia to Bulgaria had outstanding claims to make against each other, and territorial wrangles between Hungary and Romania in particular dominated political agendas in both countries. Beyond the pursuit of revisionist self-interest the whole idea of Europe as a project of common political purpose seemed to have slipped off the agenda, and for many of the smaller states, including neutrals, the rights of small nations became an increasingly important issue. Thus the Portuguese dictator Antonio Salazar, for example, had told the Spanish foreign minister Suñer at a meeting in Seville that he feared the “Germanization of the whole of Europe” in

78  Tim Kirk the wake of a German victory, an issue he also raised with the German ambassador, adding that it would be helpful if Hitler would make his plans for the new Europe somewhat clearer.26 In Hungary the rights of small nations in the new Europe was a subject debated with increasing urgency in the press, including Germanlanguage newspapers such as Pester Lloyd.27 There was also a great degree of reticence across Europe about proposals for an integrated economy. Many suspected Germany’s motives and ambitions, anticipating a rationalization of the European economy that would essentially bring about a division of labor between an industrialized central European core and an agricultural periphery servicing the Reich with food and raw materials in a quasicolonial relationship. Italy’s claim to pursue its own objectives again marked it out: Mussolini’s trade minister Raffello Riccardi was insistent, as he had been in the past, upon Italy’s economic freedom of movement, and on the right to a separate Italian “spazio vitale” in the Mediterranean;28 and he elaborated on the theme of Italy’s need for economic independence in his acceptance speech on the occasion of receiving an honorary degree from the University of Munich in July 1942, insisting that Italy must remain an industrial country in its own right.29 Italy’s economic priorities did not differ from those of other European governments, however: the right to develop a national industrial base, and the freedom to continue trading with overseas partners outside Europe. Risto Ryti, the president of Finland, for example, one of the staunchest supporters of the New Order, expressed serious concerns about Finland’s survival as an industrial state, and was in any case skeptical about the ability of a European Großraum to compete with the emergent regional economic blocs in the Americas and East Asia – even if it included parts of the Soviet Union; and the Finns, along with both neutral Swedes and occupied Danes, felt that Europe did not provide a large enough export market for its timber and paper industry, and feared the loss of world markets.30 By and large there was at best lukewarm enthusiasm for European projects among the continent’s political class.

Collaborators The mainstay of support for the “new Europe” both within and beyond the Reich was a right-wing intelligentsia which spanned political collaborators, leaders of local fascist parties, and other radical right-wing movements, along with rightwing journalists, academics, and intellectuals. Some collaborators embraced the New Order with obvious enthusiasm. In April 1941, for example, members of the Vichy government presented the German ambassador, Otto Abetz, with plans for a new order in France. They promised not only loyalty to Hitler and the integration of a restructured French economy into the European economy, but a new political order for France itself that would see parliamentarism, liberalism, and social conservatism swept away and replaced with a corporative system and an authoritarian head of state along fascist lines.31 Such enthusiastic statements concealed a much more complicated situation, however. It was not just that there was frequently an unbridgeable gulf between collaborators and popular opinion,

Nazi plans for a new European order  79 or that even among “pro-German circles” there was considerable variation in the degree of support for the ideology of the new Europe, and a certain selectivity in terms of which policies and initiatives were supported and which were resisted. Collaborators were often divided among themselves, rarely taken seriously by the Germans, and given to wishful thinking about the future standing of their respective nations in the new Europe. Fascist leaders in Scandinavia and the Low Countries, for example, encouraged by the racial rhetoric of Himmler and the SS about a greater Germanic empire, envisaged a privileged place in the New Order, talking up the Teutonic credentials of their own people where necessary. After all the Nazis’ “scientific” racism – in practice a hotchpotch of racial and religious prejudice, false assumptions about language and ethnicity, and pseudo-historical mythology – was ambivalent to say the least, especially when it came to finding “Frankish” or “Gothic” racial pedigrees for Germany’s allies.32 The “racial reordering” of the Low Countries was a tricky project to contemplate for local fascist ideologues. The leader of the Dutch Nazi movement (Nationaal-Socialistische Beweging, NSB), Anton Mussert, was seen by the SS as a “bourgeois fascist” rather than a radical National Socialist, soft on racial issues and relations with the church.33 Mussert envisaged the Greater Germanic Reich as a confederation, within which a Greater Netherlands would enjoy a degree of national sovereignty, and be able to pursue its own expansionist objectives in Belgium and Northern France. In September 1940 he presented Hitler with a plan for a League of Germanic peoples, encompassing Scandinavia and the Low Countries, arguing that the world demanded a new order based on völkisch principles, but while Hitler expressed interest in the idea, he would not promise political independence for the Netherlands. The following year Mussert raised with Hitler the possibility of uniting Flanders with the Netherlands, again without success.34 Hitler was at best ambivalent about the pretensions of “Germanentum”; and although the SS in the Netherlands encouraged “Germanic” thinking, Mussert’s aspiration to independence was in any case viewed with some disdain as an anachronistic relic of bourgeois thinking by the völkisch ideologues themselves, who were for the liberation and self-realization of peoples, not the expansionist ambitions of states.35 Moreover, while there was ostensibly a “racial” case for uniting Flanders with the Netherlands, the politics of Flemish nationalism was fragmented and unstable.36 The NSB’s most likely ally in such an endeavor was the Vlaams Nationaal Verbond (VNV), which supported the idea of union with the Netherlands within a Germanic confederation, but was considered ideologically dubious by the Dutch Nazis. Léon Degrelle’s Rexists on the other hand, while considered true fascists, wanted not only to retain Belgium’s integrity as a state, but to revive a sometime Burgundian “tradition” as lynchpin of the politics of the new Europe by annexing the French Département du Nord and Luxembourg.37 Such proposals invariably got short shrift. Proposals both for the radical redrawing of boundaries and for the “racial reordering” of Western Europe also came from within the Nazi leadership: Stuckart’s Generalplan West of 1940, for example, proposed the clearing of 50,000 square kilometers of eastern France and the displacement of seven million people into the “core” territory of the French state; and Werner Best’s proposals

80  Tim Kirk for völkische Großraumordnung of the following year foresaw the dismemberment of “abstract” states into their ethnic component parts, with the Netherlands (including Flanders) and northern France incorporated into the Reich, alongside the establishment of protectorates in Wallonia and Brittany, independence for Catalonia and the Basque country, a united Ireland, and an independent Scotland and Wales within a federal Britain.38 Whether they came from local fascists or SS ideologues, in the context of Western Europe, such projects looked whimsical to say the least to the more conservative German diplomats and officers who had to make the occupation work, and who were driven by more pressing military and economic considerations.

Public and popular opinion Such information as we have on the broader public response to the plans for a new European order is difficult to piece together. The German press referred frequently to the new Europe, yet in phrases and formulas that reinforced the propaganda message of Europe’s common destiny and purpose, but were general enough to avoid drawing attention to disagreements or to the lack of detailed policy. As the German foreign office noted, discussion abroad was subdued for all kinds of reasons. Although press, broadcasting, and newsreel across the continent was either overwhelmingly pro-Axis or studiously neutral, open discussion would have brought into the open the real or perceived conflicts between German policy and the interests of individual states. In any event “public” opinion, such as it continued to exist, was less of a guide to what the majority was thinking than popular opinion: what was being said in workplaces and markets, in bars or on public transport. This surfaced only in the reports of police eavesdroppers, in-court evidence against resisters or dissenters, often on the basis of denunciations for fabricated offenses, or in the “morale reports” of the authorities. While such evidence presents a broader view, it is no less free of subjectivity than the controlled and censored mass media, and not least because it necessarily draws attention to the untoward or unusual rather than the mundane or everyday. While the authorities are looking for approval or dissent, most people are more concerned with their everyday lives: their work, their families and friends, money and food, and, increasingly, in the context of war, with survival. Few were specifically concerned – or even knew about – plans for a new political and economic order except either in general terms; most hoped for an end to the war and to the impositions of occupation. Collaborators were generally unrepresentative of popular opinion in their own countries, and especially so in occupied Western Europe, where the attitude of the majority was anti-German. In Belgium, whose neutrality had been violated for the second time in a quarter of a century, it seemed that there was less resentment against the occupation than might have been expected, at least initially. According to a report submitted to the British Foreign Office by a Belgian citizen arriving in London in July 1940, ordinary Belgians believed that Germany was not entirely responsible for bringing Belgium into the war, that the country had been badly

Nazi plans for a new European order  81 let down by the Allies, and that the continuation of the war by Britain was an act of selfishness through which the whole of Europe would suffer unnecessarily as there was no hope of defeating Germany. Most people approved of the king’s capitulation as a necessary action to put a stop to the suffering and loss of life. In “commercial circles” the events of the previous six months had caused no great bitterness against Germany, and were generally viewed with resignation. Many businessmen were of the opinion that global economic change would soon have made the country’s independent economic existence impossible and were looking to the future, with views that seemed to echo German propaganda, at least in public. While evidence collected from across the country suggested that economic collaboration with the Germans was far more reluctant in the provinces than in Brussels, it was generally felt that passive resistance was futile, and would only harm the country’s economic recovery. Most “responsible” businessmen professed to find Britain’s continuation of the war distasteful. “Therefore, in spite of her sentiments of independence, in spite of loss of dignity, it must be admitted that German supremacy in Europe, which will bring economic union on the continent, will, in the long run, be a blessing to Belgium.” As for the impact on Belgium of Nazism as a political doctrine: A social change of great magnitude is unavoidable. Our social system cannot undergo much longer the strains of perpetual economic war. The Nazi system, although distasteful, will bring the least damaging change. Therefore, we must try and accommodate ourselves to the present conditions, all the more as there is no chance of freeing ourselves from German supremacy.39 The report was qualified with the rider that it was more difficult and dangerous to express anti-German sentiment openly, and that some of the businessmen who advised collaboration with Germany in public, admitted in private that they would rather see the Belgian economy in ruins than the repression continue.40 Moreover, German observers themselves took a rather different view. The military commander for Belgium and northern France reported a “stiffening” of attitudes towards the occupation authorities by September 1940, partly because of the deteriorating food supply, and partly because it was now clear that there would be no decisive end to the war in the immediate future. (He also noted a hardening of attitude towards Britain, particularly along the coastal strip, which was being bombed by the Royal Air Force.)41 In Luxembourg the occupying German forces were greeted with open hostility. In August 1940 the SD reported optimistically that the number of those hoping for Anschluss with Germany was growing, but had to concede that many hoped for the restoration of the country’s independence, and citizens expressed their opposition by demonstratively supporting the dynasty or wearing symbolic ivy leaves. A few weeks later they reported an increase in hostility and widespread Germanophobia (Deutschenhass). This was expressed in no uncertain terms in aggressive confrontations with members of the ethnic German community, and the defacing of posters with slogans such as “Heil Frankreich!”42

82  Tim Kirk In France the confusion during the first few weeks after the defeat was such that it is difficult to discern any patterns to public opinion other than relief that the fighting was over and disorientation at the pace of events. The concerted efforts by the occupying forces to demonstrate “correctness” towards the civilian population did something to allay fears arising from the memory of the First World War; and despite the widespread looting and isolated atrocities in the northeast of the country, the invasion of France was very different in character to the German campaigns in Poland and the Soviet Union. Nevertheless, after some initial ambivalence, public opinion took against the Germans and – with some regional variation – remained overwhelmingly anti-German and pro-British throughout the rest of the war.43 Prefects’ reports reflected concerns on the part of the authorities about popular morale in France: “The public is anxious. Extremely receptive to British radio broadcasts, indifferent to what the [French] press writes. People find the occupation more difficult with every passing day and blame all their troubles on the Germans.”44 The problem, according to the German military authorities, was that while the enemy offered “the most enticing details of their war aims,” German counter-propaganda responded only in vague, general terms because there were no firm plans for the future.45 By 1942 there was already the sense of a turning point in Western Europe. German observers in the Netherlands were sensitive to a range of opinions, and reported not so much anti-German hostility  – although that was certainly present – so much as a general feeling that the war could not end well for Germany. It was felt that Hitler had overreached himself, and could have gained more  – particularly in terms of colonial territory  – by negotiating earlier from a position of strength. It was a theme that ran through popular opinion throughout the summer: Soviet military initiatives and American propaganda alike were greeted with enthusiasm, and the efforts of the Dutch National Socialists to win over hearts and minds were more hindrance than help. “If Britain and the United States manage to deliver an army of millions against Europe from overseas” ran a report to the German foreign office in November 1942, then the conflict is decided. If not one still has to reckon with a war of attrition – and in that case most people here think that will also end in a German defeat. Roles have already been reversed. England is a fortress while Germany has to constantly defend itself against renewed attacks on the continent. This makes an enormous impression on the mentality of the peoples in the occupied territories. Dutch journalists coming back from a meeting with other foreign correspondents in Berlin reported clear signs of disaffection in the occupied countries, including demonstrations in Denmark, where there was little sympathy either for Germany or Nazism; and there were even complaints from Quisling’s supporters in Norway about the heavy-handedness of the German occupation.46 Among the social and political elites of Central and Eastern Europe attitudes to the prospect of a new European order varied considerably between those states

Nazi plans for a new European order  83 where the governing elites owed their positions of power and influence to German patronage, and those who collaborated but also entertained ambitions of their own. The Nazi client states of Slovakia and (later) Croatia clearly fell into the first category, and the coming new order was anticipated much more enthusiastically than in Western Europe. In Bratislava where all the daily newspapers were controlled by the Hlinka Party, the press response to the victories in the West was effusive. “A wave of revolution is passing over Europe,” the newspaper Slovak wrote in July 1940, “against which the building of concrete defences, the manufacture of bomber planes, the mobilisation of global capital and the whole panoply of democratic-Jewish might was in vain.” In the present European conflict, it went on, it was not only armies that confronted each other. It was not just the disciplined power of the German military that triumphed, but the new spirit too: The decadent Europe that was replete with democratic phrases belongs to history. The ghost of Ahasver who sought to destroy nations by means of newspaper editors and democratic parliaments, has ceased to speak. Before us a new world is taking shape, which arose from the ideas of Adolf Hitler, and manifested itself in fascist Italy and in the Spanish revolution. The Slovak Republic is the first state to have been formed according to the principles of this young Europe. With the end of the old Europe ends the politics of the émigrés, who went abroad and threw dirt at the Slovak state. Their ideology is dead and new life rules in Slovakia.47 Before the German invasion of Yugoslavia and Greece in April 1941 public opinion in Southeastern Europe tended to be dominated by more narrowly regional issues, above all by the revisionist agendas of Hungary and Bulgaria, and the perceived threat from the Soviet Union. Nevertheless, the press was quick to engage with the idea of the new Europe, more often than not echoing German propaganda themes. At the end of June 1940 the Bulgarian paper Slowo commented that the “new era would abolish the old order dominated by individualism,” and put the community, the people, and the state first. In the newspaper Dnevnik a Professor Stainov declared that Europe was on the cusp not only of a new political order, but a new social order as well. In his opinion Germany stood ready at the head of a truly new social order, which it would gradually and systematically introduce without losing equilibrium and discipline. It would be impossible for other states not to be touched by the spirit of this social transformation. These circumstances would also invest the recent territorial changes with a new meaning. The new Europe would not only present a new map, but would incorporate a new spirit and a new order. This new order could only be advantageous for Bulgaria.48 Whether such attitudes were typical is a different matter. Soviet influence was particularly strong in Bulgaria and the government was determined to pursue a neutral course. Foreign observers commented on the increasing influence of Germany in Bulgarian politics, but assumed that this was because Sofia expected Germany to support the Bulgarian claim to southern Dobruja.49

84  Tim Kirk Public opinion in Romania, particularly among the intelligentsia, had traditionally been more pro-Western, and particularly more pro-French, and there was a greater diversity among the press.50 Moreover Romania could only expect to lose from the revision of the Paris treaties, and did so with the second Vienna Award, which transferred much of Transylvania to Hungary. Nevertheless the country fell increasingly within the German sphere of operations, and there was outspoken support for the new European order from some quarters. The Guardist paper Currentul very much welcomed the prospect of a Nazi new order in Europe, presenting the Axis victory as the resolution of a conflict of ideologies: the West, guided by the spirit of the French revolution, had “wanted to prolong unstable democracy with its intellectual chaos and economic disorder,” while Germany and Italy “sought to organise Europe to make it viable.” While the “pacifism of plutocratic democracy” had led to war, the military victory of Germany and Italy would establish a stable peace. Porunca Vremii, a Christian conservative paper with a nationalist and anti-Semitic slant, rejected British warnings that much of the new Europe would be reduced to an agricultural province serving an insatiable German industrial heartland. Nobody knew what Hitler’s plans were, the paper argued in a leading article, so nobody knew that only Germany’s industry would survive; and, if it came to that, Romania was an agricultural country anyway, and with technical support the Romanian farmer would improve his yields four or fivefold, and end up the richer for it.51 Political and intellectual leaders in Hungary on the other hand were more proGerman, if not necessarily more pro-Nazi. Not unlike the fascist leaders of Western Europe, many of them envisaged the new European order as a framework in which Hungary itself could benefit from German leadership and economic integration, but be free to pursue its own ambitions of political hegemony at a regional level. The journal Donaueuropa, which was launched in August  1941 under the auspices of the Carpatho-Danubian Society, articulated these aspirations in a series of articles by politicians and academics, starting with an editorial defining “Danubian Europe” as that part of the continent which, while geographically off-center and all too easily bracketed with the Balkans, nevertheless belonged by virtue of history and tradition to the cultural core of the continent. The idea of “Hungary’s mission in the Danube basin,” the theme of an article by the prime minister in the first issue, echoed the notion of Vienna’s “mission in the southeast,” and was underpinned by more substantial essays from the journal’s joint editors, Theo Surányi-Unger and Franz Vajta, on Hungary’s economic position and on the new social order in the region, respectively.52 For the duration of its brief run, Donaueuropa provided a microcosm of the way the new European order was promoted, and an index of the way in which the fundamental themes and principles of the new Europe became normalized among the political class in a dialogue between Berlin and local elites. Its focus is clearly on long-term, often detailed bureaucratic plans at a time when the daily press was preoccupied with revisionist objectives in Transylvania, the invasion of the Soviet Union, and the course of the war. Its contents reflect the way in which the New Order was conceptualized by ministers and their advisors in a middle-ranking

Nazi plans for a new European order  85 state that was part of the Axis. It was a German-language publication, not unusual in itself in a country with a substantial and influential German minority, but its contributors clearly hoped to contribute to a wider discussion in the presumed lingua franca of the coming “new Europe.” Many of the contributions addressed specific interests and agendas, above all Hungary’s own political and cultural aspirations in the region. A discussion of the historical role of Subotica (Szabadka), for example, as the southernmost outpost of “Ungartum” reflected the themes and approach of the extensive literature on Germany’s benevolent cultural presence in the southeast; and the pages of the journal were thickly littered with the discussion of Hungarian minorities beyond the boundaries of the present state (despite the revisionist judgments of the Vienna Awards). There were similar contributions from academics and politicians from other parts of Southeastern Europe, making their own revisionist claims, including, for example, those of Bulgaria in Thrace and Macedonia.53 But there were also more general essays on the future of the “new Europe,” both from local writers and from German or Italian luminaries, and these ranged from programmatic restatements of the broad outlines of the new Europe, to detailed discussions of the economic and infrastructural problems that would face the region after the war. Thus Umberto Guglielmotti, the director of the Italian Journalists’ Association and editor of La Tribuna of Rome, looked forward to the part the Danube basin would play in the realization of the New Order once Europe was freed of the “double curse of plutocrats and Bolsheviks.”54 Above all, the thematic continuity of the journal’s contents reflected the determination of a particular group of politicians, planners, and other specialists to persist with the elaboration of plans for a post-liberal order as the world around them was convulsed by events, and there continued to be a particular insistence on a völkisch model of European unity that would supersede the democratic principle of equality: “One can no longer hang on to the fiction” the Berlin journalist Wolfgang Peters wrote in May 1942, “that all nations and ethnic fragments (Volksslitter) can have completely equal rights in the European community.”55 This was an increasingly unwelcome message. In the capitals of the new Europe itself dissonant, and more critical notes were beginning to be heard. In particular the status of “small nations” was a constant theme in the Hungarian press where the point was repeatedly made that small nations also had a right to existence in the new Europe.56 In April  1942, the Romanian Guardist newspaper Currentul published a rather tongue-in-cheek commentary on the prospects for European unity, deploying the currently voguish formulas and clichés with increasing irony. It commented rather ambivalently on the common desire for a German victory that would free Europe from the evil threat from the Soviet Union. On the other hand, it added, Germany wants to create a European unity in which it is not difficult to see the old German dream of a European monarchy  – adapted for the present circumstances, naturally. This European unity would apparently provide the basis for a great new cultural epoch that would rival the Renaissance itself. The problem was that a European consciousness did not quite exist yet. All the elements were there, but it was taking shape rather slowly; for while the instinct for self-preservation told Europe’s peoples they needed a German victory over

86  Tim Kirk ‘‘Bolshevik Russia’’, they also feared what such a victory might bring. Rumors were circulating that Germany would “Prussianize” Europe. Of course, the article concluded, if Germany wanted to create unity on the basis of coercion, riding roughshod over Europe’s diversity, it would need garrisons on permanent standby in every country. The greater the freedom of individual nations to organize their own political affairs, it concluded, the more cohesive Europe would be, and it was on that basis continental unity would be achieved.57 Although skepticism about German intentions remained rare in public as long as the presses of Europe remained under Axis control, the issue of the place of small nations in the post-war order refused to go away. It was a question which could be raised as a practical problem without necessarily implying criticism of the overall objective of European unity, and could be presented as an exploration of how political relationships might best work within the post-war European Völker­familie. In reality of course it was a political issue that questioned the central premise of Großraumpolitik: that national sovereignty on an equal basis would be superseded by a more hierarchical relationship with the Führungsvolk firmly in command. The message of European unity in the face of external threats, from both Germany and Italy, had found a positive reception above all among the political and intellectual elites of the radical right-wing regimes that governed most of continental Europe, but also among business people and the middle classes, not least because there was an expectation that German leadership and European economic integration would mean an improvement in the economy. Within this consensus there were several shared points of reference, including the anti-Communism and anti-­Semitism that had been the hallmark of the European right for over half a century. The new ingredient was the acceptance that the existing liberal order had failed, and must be superseded by something that better served both the international community and the societies of individual countries. Accordingly much of the detail in the thinking about the future was fundamentally pragmatic, a matter of integrated banking systems, railways, and postal services. Where the consensus stalled was in the conflict between the political collaborators who looked forward to a kind of national rebirth and rise to greatness in the new European order, and the expectation of the Nazi leadership that sovereignty would be surrendered in the interests of a racial restructuring of the continent. For many of the experts planning politicaleconomic integration, designing infrastructure and organizing cultural exchanges, it was still possible to pursue a long and fruitful career after the war was over.

Notes 1 Hans Umbreit, “Towards Continental Domination,” in Bernhard R. Kroener, RolfDieter Müller and Hans Umbreit, Germany and the Second World War, vol. 5: Organisation and Mobilisation of the German Sphere of Power, part I: Wartime Administration, Economy and Manpower Resources 1939–1941 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), 153–154. 2 In many cases, as in Croatia and Greece, there was further competition from the Italians and others. Cf. Srdjan Trifković, “Rivalry between Germany and Italy in Croatia, 1942–1943,” Historical Journal 36, no. 4 (1993); Anthony McElligott, “Reforging

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15 16 17 18 19

20

Mitteleuropa in the Second World War,” in Mitteleuropa: History and Prospects, 1815–1990, ed. Peter Stirk (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 1994). “öfter als die Schuhe die Länder wechselnd” in An die Nachgeborenen: Svendborger Gedichte 1939, cited in Bertolt Brecht, Selected Poems (Oxford: Clarendon, 1965), 110–113. See Robert Gildea, Olivier Wieviorka and Anette Warring, eds., Surviving Hitler and Mussolini: Daily Life in Occupied Europe (Oxford and New York: Berg, 2006). Kelly to Foreign Office, November  15, 1940, The National Archives, Kew/London (TNA), INF 1 871. See Georges-Henri Soutou, L’or et le sang: Les buts de guerre économiques de la Première Guerre Mondiale (Paris: Fayard, 1999); Jürgen Elvert, Mitteleuropa! Deutsche Pläne zur europäischen Neuordnung (1918–1945) (Stuttgart: Steiner, 1999). Carl Schmitt, Völkerrechtliche Großraumordnung mit Interventionsverbot für raumfremde Mächte: Ein Beitrag zum Reichsbegriff im Völkerrecht (Berlin: Duncker & Humblot 1991). Reprint of unaltered third edition of 1941. See also Lothar Gruchmann, Nationalsozialistische Großraumordnung: Die Konstruktion einer “deutschen Monroe-Doktrin” (Stuttgart: Deutsche Verlags-Anstalt, 1962), 20–27. Friedrich List, “Aus: Die nationalen Handelssysteme von England, Holland und Deutschland (1841),” in Europastrategien des deutschen Kapitals, ed. Reinhard Opitz (Cologne: Pahl-Rugenstein, 1994), 45–49. A timely new edition of List’s works was published in the early 1930s. Friedrich List, Schriften, Reden, Briefe, 10 vols., ed. Erwin von Beckerath et  al. (Berlin: Hobbing, 1929–1935); Werner Daitz, Der Weg zur Volkswirtschaft, Großraumwirtschaft und Großraumpolitik (Dresden: Meinhold, 1943), contains Daitz’s articles up to 1942. Norbert Schausberger, Der Griff nach Österreich: Der Anschluß (Vienna: Jugend und Volk, 1978); William Carr, Arms, Autarky and Aggression (London: Arnold, 1972); Richard Overy, Goering: The “Iron Man” (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1984), 76–137. See David Mitrany, Review of Demokratie und Diktatur by Paul Ritterbusch, Grundfragen europäischer Ordnung by Georg Hahn, and Völkerrechtlich Großraumordnung by Carl Schmitt, International Affairs 18, no. 6 (1939), which he dismissed as “crudities,” alongside Schmitt’s Völkerrechtliche Großraumordnung. Joseph W. Bendersky, Carl Schmitt: Theorist for the Reich (Princeton/NJ: Princeton University Press, 1983), 250–263. “Weltanschauung und Wirtschaft,” lecture to the Deutsche Akademie in 1935, reproduced in Daitz, Der Weg, 49–61. Wilhelm Stuckart, “Aufgaben und Ziele einer Verwaltungsgemeinschaft,” in Reich, Volksordnung, Lebensraum 2 (1942). Wolfram Heinze, Über Führung und Verwaltung des europäischen Reiches der Deutschen; Kurt O. Rabl, Gedanken über die Neuordnung Europas und zur künftigen Verfassung eines Großreiches unter Führung der europäischen Nordvölker, both cited in Hans Werner Neulen, Europa und das 3. Reich: Einigungsbestrebungen im deutschen Machtbereich 1939–45 (Munich: Universitas, 1987), 36–37. Clifton J. Child, “The Concept of the New Order,” in Hitler’s Europe, ed. Arnold Toynbee and Veronica M. Toynbee (London: Oxford University Press, 1954), 53–54. Neulen, Europa. Joseph Goebbels, Die Tagebücher von Joseph Goebbels, part II: Diktate 1941–1945, vol. 8: April-Juni 1943, ed. Elke Fröhlich (Munich: Sauer, 1987), here May 8, 1943. Willi Boelcke, ed., The Secret Conferences of Dr Goebbels: October 1939–March 1943 (London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1966), Conference of 23 June 1940, 59–60. Cf. J. M. Keynes’s commentary on his draft memorandum on “Proposals to counter the German ‘New Order,’ ” cited in Dokumente zur Deutschlandpolitik, series I, vol. I: 3. September 1939 bis 31. Dezember 1941 – Britische Deutschlandpolitik, ed. Rainer A. Blasius (Frankfurt am Main: Alfred Metzner, 1984), 241–246. Broadcast from Rennes, July 1940, NA, INF 1 871, Germany’s “New Order”: the 1940 name for a “Place in the Sun.”

88  Tim Kirk 21 Broadcasts from Bremen in English, 14 July 1940, Stuttgart in French, 7 August 1940, and Hilversum in Dutch, 21 August 1940, ibid. 22 Broadcast in Italian, 15 September 1940, from Rome in Spanish, 16 September 1940; Bremen in English, 14 July 1940, ibid. 23 Europe under Hitler: In Prospect and in Practice (London: Royal Institute of International Affairs, 1941), 13. 24 Political Archive of the Federal Foreign Office, Berlin (Politisches Archiv des Auswärtigen Amts, PA AA), R 261.120. 25 See Davide Rodogno, Fascism’s European Empire: Italian Occupation during the Second World War (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006). 26 Auszug aus einem Telegramm der Gesandtschaft Lissabon Nr. 771, March 9, 1942, PA AA, R 261.120. 27 Wochenbericht Südosteuropa, Austrian State Archives  – Archives of the Republic, Vienna (Österreichisches Staatsarchiv – Archiv der Republik, OeStA), 04, Reichstatt­ halter in Wien, 119. 28 Auszug aus einem Schreiben des italienischen Außenhandelsministers Riccardi an Reichsminister Walther Funk, November 18, 1941, PA AA, R 261.120. 29 Vortrag des Ministers Raffaello Riccardi an der Universität in München, July 20, 1942, Munich University, Universitätsarchiv: Gelegenheitsreden, www.universitaetsarchiv. uni-muenchen.de/digitalesarchiv/rektoratsunduniversitatsreden/pdf/324.pdf. 30 Deutsche Botschaft Helsinki, Bemerkungen des finnischen Staatspräsidenten zur europäischen Großraumwirtschaft, February 27, 1942, PA AA, R 261.120. 31 Reproduced in Neulen, Europa, 258–263. 32 Hans-Dietrich Loock, “Zur ‘Großgermanischen Politik’ des Dritten Reiches,” Vierteljahrshefte für Zeitgeschichte 8, no. 1 (1960). 33 Neulen, Europa, 305. 34 Werner Warmbrunn, The Dutch under German Occupation 1940–1945 (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1963), 93; Konrad Kwiet, Reichskommissariat Niederlande: Versuch und Scheitern einer nationalsozialistischen Neuordnung (Stuttgart: Deutsche Verlags-Anstalt, 1968), 134; Robert Grunert, Der Europagedanke westeuro­ päischer faschistischer Bewegungen (Paderborn: Schöningh, 2012), 136. 35 Bernard Mees, “Hitler and Germanentum,” Journal of Contemporary History 39, no. 2 (2003); Grunert, Europagedanke, 120–121. 36 Militärbefehlshaber in Belgien und Nordfrankreich, July  30, 1940, betr. Politische Lage: hier Flamenfrage, PA AA, R 101.301. 37 Grunert, Europagedanke, 161–224. 38 Peter Schöttler, “Eine Art ‘Generalplan West’: Die Stuckart-Denkschrift vom 14. Juni 1940 und die Planungen für eine neue deutsch-französische Grenze im Zweiten Weltkrieg,” Sozial.Geschichte 18 (2003); Ulrich Herbert, Best: Biographische Studien über Radikalismus, Weltanschauung und Vernunft, 1903–1989 (Bonn: Dietz, 1996), 290– 295; Grunert, Europagedanke, 79–81. 39 Notes on conditions in Belgium, FO/408/70 C 8070/4882/4, in British Documents on Foreign Affairs: Reports and Papers Form the Foreign Office Confidential Print, part III, series F (Europe), vol. 2: Germany, July 1940-December 1941, ed. Patrick Salmon ([Frederick/MD]: University Publications of America, 1997) 40–44, here 40–41. 40 Ibid., 41. 41 Militärsbefehlshaber in Belgien und Nordfrankreich, Tätigkeitsbericht, October  1, 1940, PA AA, R 101.301. 42 Heinz Boberach, ed., Meldungen aus dem Reich: Die geheimen Lageberichte des Sicherheitsdienstes der SS 1938–1945, 17 vols. (Herrsching: Manfred Pawlak Verlagsgesellschaft, 1984), here vol. 5, 1520–1521, August 29, 1940; 1614–1616, September 26, 1940. 43 Philippe Burrin, Living with Defeat: France under the German Occupation 1940–1944 (London: Arnold, 1996), 177–190; Julian Jackson, France: The Dark Years, 1940– 1944 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), 272–278; Pierre Laborie, L’opinion

Nazi plans for a new European order  89

44 45

46

47 48 49

50 51 52

53 54 55 56

57

française sous Vichy: Les Français et la crise d’identité nationale 1936–1944 (Paris: Le Seuil, 1990), 229 et seqq. Situation reports from both the German military authorities and French prefects are at www.ihtp.cnrs.fr/prefets/. Synthèse zone occupée, Nov. 17, 1940, www.ihtp.cnrs.fr/prefets/fr/content/synthèsezone-occupée-17-novembre-1940-dgto. Alan Milward, The New Order and the French Economy (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1970), 38–39; Grunert, Europagedanke, 78–85, 225–227; see also Martyn Cornick, “Fighting Myth with Reality: The Fall of France, Anglophobia and the BBC,” in France at War in the Twentieth Century: Propaganda, Myth and Metaphor, ed. Valerie Holman and Debra Kelly (New York and Oxford: Berghahn, 2000). Allgemeine auswärtige Politik, betr. Niederlande, PA AA, R 99.208. The Danish Nazi Party scored only two percent in elections the following year. See Joachim Lund, “Denmark and the ‘European New Order’, 1940–1942,” Journal of Contemporary European History 13, no. 3 (2004). Wochenbericht Südosteuropa 66, July 18–25, 1940, 16–17, Austrian National Library, Vienna (Österreichische Nationalbibliothek, OeNB). Wochenbericht Südosteuropa 62, June 20–28, 1940, 6, OeNB. R 6670/375/7, Sir H Knatchbull-Hugessen to Viscount Halifax, July 9, 1940, and R 6668/613/7, Mr Rendel to Viscount Halifax, July 26, 1940, in British Documents on Foreign Affairs: Reports and Papers form the Foreign Office Confidential Print, part III, series F (Europe), vol. 21: Italy and South-Eastern Europe, July  1940–December 1941, ed. MacGregor Knox (Frederick/MD: University Publications of America, 1997), 56–58. A lengthy memorandum by Hugh Seaton Watson, analyzing political opinion in Romania, and noting the gulf between elites and people, was received by the British Foreign Office in August 1940. Ibid. Wochenbericht Südosteuropa 66, July 18–25, 1940, 16–17, 62–64, OeNB. “Warum Donaueuropa?” Donaueuropa: Zeitschrift für die Probleme des europäischen Südostens 1, no. 1 (1941); Lászlo von Bárdossy, “Ungarns Sendung im Donaubecken,” ibid; Theo Surányi-Unger, “Ungarns Wirtschaftsgeltung im europäischen Südosten,” ibid. and Franz Vajta, “Soziale Neuordnung in Donaueuropa,” ibid. G. P. Genoff, “Alte bulgarische Kulturarbeit in den neuerworbenen Gebieten,” Donaueuropa: Zeitschrift für die Probleme des europäischen Südostens 2 (1942). Umberto Guglielmotti, “Das Donaubecken in der neuen europäischen Ordnung,” Donaueuropa. Zeitschrift für die Probleme des europäischen Südostens 2 (1942). Wolfgang Peters, “Das völkische Prinzip im neuen Europa,” Donaueuropa. Zeitschrift für die Probleme des europäischen Südostens 3 (1942). For example, Pester Lloyd, August  10, 1941, Wochenbericht Südosteuropa 119, August 7–14, 1941, 42, OeNB. At the same time the Hungarians took exception to a Slovak narrative of national struggle alongside the Croats against a common Magyar enemy before 1918. Wochenbericht Südosteuropa 154, April, 9–16, 1942, OeNB.

Bibliography Archives OeStA: Austrian State Archives  – Archives of the Republic (Österreichisches Staats­ archiv – Archiv der Republik), Vienna. PA AA: Political Archive of the Federal Foreign Office (Politisches Archiv des Auswärtigen Amts), Berlin. TNA: The National Archives, Kew/London.

90  Tim Kirk Books and articles Bendersky, Joseph W. Carl Schmitt: Theorist for the Reich. Princeton/NJ: Princeton University Press, 1983. Blasius, Rainer A., ed. Dokumente zur Deutschlandpolitik, 1st series, vol. I: 3. September  1939 bis 31. Dezember 1941 – Britische Deutschlandpolitik. Frankfurt am Main: Alfred Metzner, 1984. Boberach, Heinz, ed. Meldungen aus dem Reich: Die geheimen Lageberichte des Sicherheitsdienstes der SS 1938–1945. 17 vols. Herrsching: Manfred Pawlak Verlagsgesell­ schaft, 1984. Boelcke, Willi, ed. The Secret Conferences of Dr Goebbels: October 1939 – March 1943. London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1966. Brecht, Bertolt. Selected Poems. Oxford: Clarendon, 1965. British Documents on Foreign Affairs: Reports and Papers From the Foreign Office Confidential Print, part III, series F (Europe), vol. 2: Germany, July 1940 – December 1941, edited by Patrick Salmon. [Frederick/MD]: University Publications of America, 1997. British Documents on Foreign Affairs: Reports and Papers From the Foreign Office Confidential Print, part III, series F (Europe), vol. 21: Italy and South-Eastern Europe, July 1940 – December 1941, edited by MacGregor Knox. [Frederick/MD]: University Publications of America, 1997. Burrin, Philippe. Living with Defeat: France Under the German Occupation 1940–1944. London: Arnold, 1996. Carr, William. Arms, Autarky and Aggression. London: Arnold, 1972. Child, Clifton J. “The Concept of the New Order.” In Hitler’s Europe, edited by Arnold Toynbee and Veronica M. Toynbee, 47–73. London: Oxford University Press, 1954. Cornick, Martyn. “Fighting Myth With Reality: the Fall of France, Anglophobia and the BBC.” In France at War in the Twentieth Century: Propaganda, Myth and Metaphor, edited by Valerie Holman and Debra Kelly, 65–87. New York and Oxford: Berghahn, 2000. Daitz, Werner. Der Weg zur Volkswirtschaft, Großraumwirtschaft und Großraumpolitik. Dresden: Meinhold, 1943. Elvert, Jürgen. Mitteleuropa! Deutsche Pläne zur europäischen Neuordnung (1918–1945). Stuttgart: Steiner, 1999. Europe under Hitler: In Prospect and in Practice. London: Royal Institute of International Affairs, 1941. Genoff, G. P. “Alte bulgarische Kulturarbeit in den neuerworbenen Gebieten.” Donaueuropa: Zeitschrift für die Probleme des europäischen Südostens 2 (1942): 295–297. Gildea, Robert, Olivier Wieviorka, and Anette Warring, eds. Surviving Hitler and Mussolini: Daily Life in Occupied Europe. Oxford and New York: Berg, 2006. Goebbels, Joseph. Die Tagebücher von Joseph Goebbels, part II: Diktate 1941–1945, vol. 8: April – Juni 1943, edited by Elke Fröhlich. Munich: Saur, 1987. Gruchmann, Lothar. Nationalsozialistische Großraumordnung: Die Konstruktion einer “deutschen Monroe-Doktrin”. Stuttgart: Deutsche Verlags-Anstalt, 1962. Grunert, Robert. Der Europagedanke westeuropäischer faschistischer Bewegungen. Pader­ born: Schöningh, 2012. Guglielmotti, Umberto. “Das Donaubecken in der neuen europäischen Ordnung.” Donaueuropa: Zeitschrift für die Probleme des europäischen Südostens 2 (1942): 293–295. Herbert, Ulrich. Best: Biographische Studien über Radikalismus, Weltanschauung und Vernunft, 1903–1989. Bonn: Dietz, 1996.

Nazi plans for a new European order  91 Jackson, Julian. France: The Dark Years, 1940–1944. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001. Kwiet, Konrad. Reichskommissariat Niederlande: Versuch und Scheitern einer nationalsozialistischen Neuordnung. Stuttgart: Deutsche Verlags-Anstalt, 1968. Laborie, Pierre. L’opinion française sous Vichy: Les Français et la crise d’identité natio­ nale 1936–1944. Paris: Le Seuil, 1990. List, Friedrich. “Aus: Die nationalen Handelssysteme von England, Holland und Deutschland (1841).” In Europastrategien des deutschen Kapitals, edited by Reinhard Opitz, 45–49. Bonn: Pahl-Rugenstein, 1994. ———. Schriften, Reden, Briefe. 10 vols., edited by Erwin von Beckerath, Karl Goeser, Friedrich Lenz, William Notz, Edgar Salin, and Artur Sommer. Berlin: Hobbing, 1929–1935. Loock, Hans-Dietrich. “Zur ‘Großgermanischen Politik’ des Dritten Reiches.” Vierteljahrs­ hefte für Zeitgeschichte 8, no. 1 (1960): 37–63. Lund, Joachim. “Denmark and the ‘European New Order’, 1940–1942.” Journal of Contemporary European History 13, no. 3 (2004): 305–321. McElligott, Anthony. “Reforging Mitteleuropa in the Second World War.” In Mitteleuropa: History and Prospects, 1815–1990, edited by Peter Stirk, 129–159. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 1994. Mees, Bernard. “Hitler and Germanentum.” Journal of Contemporary History 39, no. 2 (2003): 255–270. Milward, Alan. The New Order and the French Economy. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1970. Mitrany, David. “Review of Demokratie und Diktatur by Paul Ritterbusch, Grundfragen europäischer Ordnung by Georg Hahn, and Völkerrechtliche Großraumordnung by Carl Schmitt.” International Affairs 18, no. 6 (1939): 816–817. Neulen, Hans Werner. Europa und das 3. Reich: Einigungsbestrebungen im deutschen Machtbereich 1939–45. Munich: Universitas, 1987. Overy, Richard. Goering: The “Iron Man”. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1984. Peters, Wolfgang. “Das völkische Prinzip im neuen Europa.” Donaueuropa: Zeitschrift für die Probleme des europäischen Südostens 3 (1942): 359–365. Rodogno, Davide. Fascism’s European Empire: Italian Occupation during the Second World War. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006. Schausberger, Norbert. Der Griff nach Österreich: Der Anschluß. Vienna: Jugend und Volk, 1978. Schmitt, Carl. Völkerrechtliche Großraumordnung mit Interventionsverbot für raumfremde Mächte: Ein Beitrag zum Reichsbegriff im Völkerrrecht. Berlin: Duncker & Humblot, 1991. Schöttler, Peter. “Eine Art ‘Generalplan West’: Die Stuckart-Denkschrift vom 14. Juni 1940 und die Planungen für eine neue deutsch-französische Grenze im Zweiten Weltkrieg.” Sozial.Geschichte 18 (2003): 83–131. Soutou, Georges-Henri. L’or et le sang: Les buts de guerre économiques de la Première Guerre Mondiale. Paris: Fayard, 1999. Stuckart, Wilhelm. “Aufgaben und Ziele einer Verwaltungsgemeinschaft.” In Reich, Volks­ ordnung, Lebensraum 2 (1942): 53–74. Surányi-Unger, Theo. “Ungarns Wirtschaftsgeltung im europäischen Südosten.” Donaueuropa. Zeitschrift für die Probleme des europäischen Südostens 1, no. 1 (1941): 12–24. Trifković, Srdjan. “Rivalry between Germany and Italy in Croatia, 1942–1943.” Historical Journal 36, no. 4 (1993): 879–904.

92  Tim Kirk Umbreit, Hans. “Towards Continental Domination.” In Bernhard R. Kroener, Rolf-Dieter Müller and Hans Umbreit, Germany and the Second World War, vol. 5: Organisation and Mobilisation of the German Sphere of Power, part I: Wartime administration, economy and manpower resources 1939–1941, 9–404. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000. Vajta, Franz. “Soziale Neuordnung in Donaueuropa.” Donaueuropa: Zeitschrift für die Probleme des europäischen Südostens 1, no. 1 (1941): 25–29. Von Bárdossy, Lászlo. “Ungarns Sendung im Donaubecken.” Donaueuropa: Zeitschrift für die Probleme des europäischen Südostens 1, no. 1 (1941): 3–4. Warmbrunn, Werner. The Dutch under German Occupation 1940–1945. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1963. ———. “Warum Donaueuropa?” Donaueuropa: Zeitschrift für die Probleme des europäi­ schen Südostens 1, no. 1 (1941): 1–2.

5 Hispanidad in the völkisch “New Order” of Europe (1933–1945) Marició Janué i Miret

This chapter analyzes the doctrine of the Raza de la Hispanidad (Hispanic race), which the Spanish fascist party, the Falange, integrated into its official ideology in the 1930s. It also attempts to clarify, first, to what extent the Spanish fascists saw this doctrine as compatible with that of the Nazi “New Order” of Europe and, second, the nature of the role they attributed to Spain in this anticipated new order. I have structured the chapter in six parts. In the first part, I present the origins of the doctrine of Hispanidad. In the second, I analyze the role the Spanish fascists saw themselves as playing with this doctrine in the context of the National Socialist rise to power. Next, I inquire into the effects of the outbreak of the Spanish Civil War on the Falange’s doctrine of Hispanidad. In the fourth part, I analyze the European dimension of Hispanidad, particularly in the context of the Second World War. Finally, I investigate the effect that the Falangist discourse of Hispanidad had upon the politics of the early years of Franco’s rule. I conclude with some thoughts on the racist connotations of Hispanidad, its use by the Spanish fascists, and their links to National Socialism.

The institutionalization of the “Day of the Race” and Hispanidad The origin of the doctrine of the Raza de la Hispanidad can be linked with commemorations marking the discovery of America by Christopher Columbus on 12 October  1492. Colón, as Columbus was known in Spanish, was at the time in the service of the Reyes Católicos (Catholic Kings) that then governed Spain. To remember Columbus’s achievement meant to reinforce the image of Spain in Latin America, emphasizing the unity of the community of the Hispanic peoples. In 1892, with the commemoration of this discovery made four centuries earlier, a new albeit still unofficial tradition was inaugurated to celebrate this great historical achievement ritually once a year. After the so-called disaster of 1898 that resulted in Spain losing its last important colonies (Cuba, Puerto Rico, and the Philippines), a “Regenerationist” movement began to emerge in the country. The political orientations among the “Regenerationists” varied considerably, but they all advocated for reform of the Spanish liberal parliamentarian system and of society as a whole as a necessary

94  Marició Janué i Miret condition for the salvation of the Motherland.1 One branch of the Regenerationist movement developed ties with the newly emergent movement for Catholic nationalism, which found in Marcelino Menéndez y Pelayo (1856–1912) its most prominent representative. In his History of the Spanish Heterodox,2 in which he denounced those Spaniards who he claimed had imported malign European ideas into Spain, he defended the romantic idea of a Spanish Volksgeist, a “spirit of the people” or “national character,” that was intimately connected with Catholicism. The ideas of Menéndez y Pelayo established the foundations of what later would come to be known as “National Catholicism.”3 In this context, in 1913 Faustino Rodríguez-San Pedro Díaz-Argüelles (1833– 1925), a conservative politician and president of the Unión Ibero-Americana (Ibero-American Union), promoted the denomination of the commemoration of the discovery of America as the “Festivity of the Race” or the “Day of the Race.”4 Mobilized around these commemorative celebrations, a group of intellectuals lay the foundations for a discourse through which they advocated for the restoration of Spain as an imperial power. Embedded within this discourse were the concepts of Hispanoamericanismo, Hispanismo, or pan-Hispanismo (as opposed to the pan-Americanism of Anglo-Saxon orientation)5 – concepts which, although nuanced, all affirmed the historical existence of a genuine Spanish culture. This culture was characterized by peculiarly Spanish forms of life as well as by a particularly Spanish “character” with its own distinct traditions and norms. Since 1492, Spaniards had been carrying this genuine culture with them to America and, through transmission to its inhabitants, had been transforming Indigenous Americans into authentic members of one and the same Hispanic “race.” According to the doctrine of Hispanismo, by “race” was meant a unique spiritual community and culture constituted by Spain and its former colonies. The discourse of Hispanismo synthesized the relations between Spain and Latin America by means of a symbolic, structural analogy with the family. Spain was referred to as the “Motherland.” On this basis, symbolic models of colonial servitude could be reproduced: the Motherland may have lost its political and economic dominion over the Latin American nations, but it could still assert its authority over its “daughters” by claiming the role of instructor and teacher in cultural affairs.6 The history of the American conquest was ultimately reduced to a figure: that of the heroic Christian knight who was meant to embody the long tradition of Spanish explorers and missionaries to America. In this way, the colonial period came to be viewed as a superhuman and universal civilizing work. In 1918, the conservative government of Antonio Maura published a decree declaring the Day of the Race an official national holiday in Spain.7 By then, most of the Latin American countries had already taken this step.8 In the years to follow, a basic consensus developed in Spain around the discourse of Hispanismo. Conservative as well as liberal sectors of the population, including socialists and anarchists, came to embrace it, and this in spite of the relatively weak and even irrelevant economic relations between Spain and Latin America at the time.9 Under the dictatorship of general Miguel Primo de Rivera, which lasted from 1923 through 1930, the government tried to satisfy the claims being made by the

Hispanidad in the völkisch “New Order”  95 Spanish anti-liberal nationalist Regenerationists, but it was not able to do so, a failure which ultimately caused its collapse.10 The subsequent proclamation of the Second Spanish Republic in 1931 led to a radicalization of anti-liberal, antiparliamentarian, anti-democratic, and anti-socialist forces. In this context, the concept of Hispanismo, which from this moment on would be termed Hispanidad, became a fundamental principle in Spanish conservative ideology.11 The term Hispanidad was successfully disseminated and took root throughout Spain aided by the writer, Regenerationist, and neotraditionalist ideologue Ramiro de Maeztu (1875–1936). The national holiday, however, would not be officially renamed “Festivity of Hispanidad” or “Day of Hispanidad” until 1958  – long after Maeztu had been executed in the opening salvos of the Spanish Civil War, and also after the end of the Second World War, when Franco’s dictatorship was already well established. Maeztu had published a series of articles on the concept of Hispanidad in the journal Acción Española, a publication with Catholic and monarchist leanings that first came to print in late 1931.12 This journal would later become a doctrinal organ of the Francoist sedition. In 1934, Maeztu collected his articles in his famous book Defense of Hispanidad,13 which was reprinted the year after and again in 1938, when the Spanish Civil War was already underway. Taking an approach similar to that of Menéndez y Pelayo, Maeztu described Hispanidad as a spiritual community, a manifestation of the Catholic cultural legacy of Spain. Therefore, Hispanidad meant for him neither a race of blood nor an ethnic group in any biological sense.14 This explains why he considered the denomination “Festivity of the Race” to be misleading. According to Maeztu, the principles comprising a concept of Hispanidad were – along with the previously mentioned spiritual notions of race and empire – the Spanish language, the monarchy, “tradition,” and the Catholic religion. He added to these a radicalized patriotism and a hierarchical and authoritarian understanding of politics and society that aspired to extinguish social conflict by means of a harmonic corporatism and a unifying notion of the Motherland.15 Hispanidad was also defined negatively: the concept was explicitly distinguished on the one hand from Indigenism, Latinity, and pan-Americanism,16 and on the other from materialism, Marxism, socialism, and communism, as well as from Freemasonry and liberalism. Maeztu considered the sixteenth-century monarchy of Charles V as the decisive period of Spanish history, with Charles V as the inheritor of the legacy of the legitimate rule of Catholic Kings. He believed that Hispanidad obligated Spain to the defense of Catholicism worldwide, and along with this Spain must take on the role of spiritual and moral instructor within the territories that had once been integrated in the Hispanic empire. The ideas of Maeztu, together with those of Menéndez y Pelayo, inspired Spanish reactionary nationalism and other related conservative nationalist movements in Latin America.17

How the Spanish fascists understood Hispanidad The Spanish fascists adopted their own nuanced version of the conservative discourse of Hispanidad. Above all, they extolled an imperial element,

96  Marició Janué i Miret which  – together with the “revolution” that was believed would restore the imperium – was considered a fundamental precondition for the restoration of the Motherland to its previous glory.18 Ernesto Giménez Caballero (1899–1988), generally considered the first theorist of Spanish fascism, in his book Temper of Spain: Exaltations to a resurrection of the nation and of the world,19 once again praised the sixteenth century as the decisive era in Spanish history. In his opinion, Kings Charles V and Philipp II had known how to reconcile the two fundamental elements of the Spanish disposition: the Roman and the Catholic, and the universal and the imperial. He explained the subsequent decadence that characterized the Spanish national character as a consequence of the bifurcation and rupture of these two elements. This rupture, Caballero writes, had been cemented in the eighteenth century and continues in the division between the political left and right. Whereas the right had opted for the “oriental temper” – hieratic, obscurantist, and despotic – the left had chosen the “occidental temper” – rebellious, romantic, revolutionary, diabolical, suicidal, and anti-Christian. Neither the left nor the right had been able to understand the authentic temper of Spain, which was nothing other than the fusion of the two aforementioned elements, a synthesis which he termed “Catholicity.” He considered the idea of empire and its great endeavors abroad as fundamental to the reconciliation of the Spanish people. Later, Giménez Caballero’s ideas would converge with more conservative and traditionalist circles. Initially a follower of Giménez Caballero, Ramiro Ledesma Ramos (1905– 1936) evolved a more radical and secular concept that clearly placed the national moral order above the Catholic. Ledesma made public his admiration for Hitler, as well as his national-syndicalist ideas, in the weekly La Conquista del Estado (The Conquest of the State), first printed in 1931. Soon after, he took charge of the Juntas de Ofensiva Nacionalsindicalistas (J.O.N.S.) (National-Syndicalist Committees of Attack), the first fascist political organization in Spain. For Ledesma, revolution, totalitarianism, and empire constituted different components of a particular albeit complete and indivisible fascist ideology. He considered the restoration of empire as the ultimate fascist solution to the problem of Spain’s regeneration and to the difficulty the Spanish nation experienced in defining itself.20 For Ledesma, the inhabitants of Spain and of Latin America were one and the same “people.” Even the Portuguese were included in his idea of a “people” and an empire. In 1934, Ledesma became a co-founder of the Falange, though he later broke with the party, alleging that its positions on religious and imperial questions had become too moderate. He was executed at the outbreak of the Spanish Civil War. José Antonio Primo de Rivera (1903–1936), the son of the dictator Miguel and the head of the Falange, would share Ledesma’s destiny. José Antonio’s sister Pilar came to head the Sección Femenina (Women’s Section) of the party. The Falange program considered Spain a “unity of destiny in the universal” and proclaimed its “will to empire” as well as its “Catholic consciousness.” The “unity of destiny in the universal” meant that Spain was a historical reality distinct from and in excess of the mere aggregation of its various individuals, classes, and groups.

Hispanidad in the völkisch “New Order”  97 It also meant that, in the past, Spain had already accomplished a spiritual mission for the world and that it’s task was to continue to fulfill this mission in the present and into the future. For José Antonio, the “unity of destiny in the universal” was incompatible with the “particularistic nationalisms” of the various sub-state territories in Spain. In his discourse he used the expressions “Spain,” “Motherland,” or “empire,” rather than the expression “Spanish nation.”21 He also reserved a prominent place for Spain as the spiritual axis of the Hispanic world.22 In spite of this, he still believed in the “natural” inferiority of the Latin Americans, and he attributed this inferiority to the ethnic mixture of Spanish colonists with Indigenous Americans. Hispanidad was constituted by the “unity of destiny” of the “peoples” who spoke the Spanish language. In this framework, the empire of Hispanidad was conceived as a spiritual entity, usually not linked to neo-colonialist territorial aspirations. However, the precise objectives of Hispanidad, and the strategies and means to achieve these, were not clearly expressed.23

Hispanidad after the outbreak of the Spanish Civil War The outbreak of the Spanish Civil War changed the position of the Spanish fascists inside Spain. Until that moment, the Falangist movement had been rather small scale, but soon it became the great party of the masses that stood behind the Francoist insurgents. Within this framework, during the first years of the dictatorship, the Falangist discourse of Hispanidad was adapted to the new circumstances. While this was taking place, the most prominent leaders of the party died. In addition, Franco issued a decree in April 1937 unifying the Falange with the Comunión Tradicionalista and this decree had not only political but also ideological effects on the party: Within Falangist discourse, Catholic religious elements grew in prominence.24 This growth intensified after the end of the Civil War, as the Falange became increasingly Catholic. One paradoxical consequence of this change in orientation was the rise of tensions within the regime. When the Falangists tried to reinvent Catholicism within a nationalist framework, the Church feared for its monopoly over this discourse.25 In addition, the idea of empire and the influence of Nazi racist doctrines can also be detected in the Falangist discourse of this period. All republicans were deemed communists, or “reds,” who were essentially opposed to the Spanish national character and, at the same time, considered “agents of the foreigners” that threatened to contaminate the masses. Therefore, the “reds” were excluded from the discourse of Hispanidad.26 The task of reconciling fascism with Catholicism fell to Pedro Laín Entralgo (1908–2001), who, as of 1937, worked as director of the Department of Editions and Publications in the Francoist National Propaganda Service. For Laín, the “universal and everlasting destiny” of Spain was to act as the “right arm of Caesarean Rome and of Christian Rome.”27 He proposed a militant and revolutionary Catholicism which recalled the missionary character of Spain’s imperial past and propagated this through the labor unions of the national-syndicalist state. The concept of Hispanidad played an important role in this Catholic national syndicalism. Laín thought that all persons who wished to be loyal to the old traditions

98  Marició Janué i Miret within the contemporary geographical and political frames in which they lived constituted the Hispanidad community.28 The domain of Hispanidad could thus be enlarged by increasing the number of loyal Christians and by developing their moral sense. In the same vein that aimed at reconciling fascism and Catholicism, Dionisio Ridruejo (1912–1975), director of the Francoist National Propaganda Service, stated that an individual could only be traditionalist by being a revolutionary. He alluded to the martyrs and theologists in the Spanish tradition from the heyday of empire. He considered empire the only authentic form of existence available to the Spanish people. “The Empire of Spain” 29 was in fact the title of the most famous book by Antonio Tovar (1911–1984), published in 1941. Tovar was put in charge of the National Radio of Francoist Spain in 1938, and between 1940 and the spring of 1941, he held the position of undersecretary of the press and propaganda. Like other Falangists, Tovar believed that each region of Spain was composed of a “mixture of races” differing in size as well as composition. Therefore, he asserted that the unity of Spain could never be a racist unity, nor a unity of language or culture, but could only be a “unity in destiny.”30 He considered empire to be an element essential to the Spanish “people.” According to Tovar, throughout their entire history the Spaniards had been inspired to the vocation of and desire for empire.31 And for a moment at least they had achieved their universal ideal, imposing Spanish beliefs and ways of life on the world. He saw “Hispanization” as synonymous with the spread of the Castilian language as well as with Christianization.32 The Civil War meant for him that the Spanish “people” was rising again, combatting with imperialist spirit against resignation and cowardice. The mission of the Falange was to awake in all Hispanics consciousness of their shared imperial past. The military psychiatrist Antonio Vallejo Nájera (1889–1960), director of Psychiatrical Services for the Francoist army during the Spanish Civil War, offered a comprehensive theory of race with respect to Hispanidad. He had been particularly influenced by Nazi racial theories, with which he had become acquainted while in Germany.33 However, his own interpretation of race was characterized more by political-cultural and psychological than by biological features. Nonetheless, his thinking contained anti-Semitic elements.34 In the opinion of Vallejo Nájera, the essence of race was to be found in patriotism, into which concept he incorporated ideas of territory, race, cultural values – defined as and expressed in language, traditions, and historical accomplishments – religion, and custom.35 In his book Eugenics of Hispanidad, he defined Hispanidad as spirit. He acknowledged that the “Hispanic race” was, as a result of contact and intermarriage with other “peoples,” biologically speaking a “mixed race.” Nevertheless, for Vallejo Nájera, it was values that mattered most, as these had empowered Spain to civilize distant lands and to exercise an intellectual influence around the world. Vallejo Nájera believed that Spanish decadence dating from the seventeenth century was a consequence of the disastrous influence of a philosophic circle of revolutionary sectarians who were obsessed with eliminating all traces of the once-glorious Spanish traditions and that their influence had in this way caused the degeneration

Hispanidad in the völkisch “New Order”  99 of the Hispanic race. Consequently, it was necessary to re-incorporate the human values of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries into the thinking, customs, and behavior of contemporary Spaniards, with the stated aim of “morally cleaning up the environment.” In the opinion of Vallejo Nájera, the environment had a decisive effect on race.36 The influence of exogenous, unfavorable agents, along with the biological inferiority of mixed parents, hastened degeneration.37 Therefore, he considered the familial environment as the heart of a “race,” its purity fundamental to the favorable development of individual personality.38 In accordance with the National Socialists, he declared that it was necessary to stimulate the fertility of the select. This required a non-democratic political system, because democracy, aiming at equalization, tended to tip the balance in social classes in favor of the inferior and to offer equal social rights to the degenerate.39 Consequently, it appeared necessary to deprive the undesirable of their civil rights until the point at which they were deemed re-generated through re-education. In later publications, Vallejo Nájera came back to this thesis.40 There were also other “national psychiatrists” who lectured in a dogmatic way on what constituted the essential features of a true Spaniard. Juan José López Ibor is one example worth mentioning. However, none was as influential as Vallejo Nájera.41 All “national psychiatrists” were demonstrably sympathetic to the German cause.42

The mission of Spain in the “New Order” of Europe The Falangists, like the Regenerationists, deployed the discourse of Hispanidad in order to strengthen relations between Spain and Latin America. However, in the case of the Spanish fascists, their understanding of Hispanidad had a relevant European dimension, too. With Hispanidad, they expressed an aspiration to build a “cultural empire” in Europe as well. The concept of the “universal destiny” of Spain can also be interpreted within this framework. It implied the idea of a “mission” for Spain throughout Europe as well as the wider world, a mission that was made manifest in its imperial Catholic aspect.43 At this point, it is necessary to underscore that for the Falangists the most significant feature of Catholicity was not so much “Catholicism” per se as it was “universality” (i.e., the imperial will).44 For them, the mere historical fact that Spain had once been an empire confirmed that it could and should become an empire again, in the same vein as the German empire and fascist Italy. In the discourse of the founder of the Falange, we find racist elements with European aspiration. For Primo de Rivera, the fundamental historical fact in the constitution of the Spanish Motherland was the Reconquista – the “reconquest” of Spain from the Muslims achieved in the fifteenth century – which he saw as a military engagement between two ruling “peoples” – the Christian Germanic people and “the Moors.”45 He thought that Spain’s problems were a direct result of the anti-patriotic conduct of the “defeated”; that is to say, of the aboriginal and the Berber members of Spanish society. Moreover, he identifies what he views as their spitefulness with his contemporary left-leaning intellectuals.46 Primo de Rivera believed that the victorious Spanish monarchy was the Mediterranean equivalent

100  Marició Janué i Miret to northern European or Germanic rulers. The Spanish monarchy, he asserted, was conscious of its world-historical destiny, which it tried by two means to fulfill: on the one hand, by the conquest and Christianization of America; on the other, through the Counter-Reformation.47 Therefore, the conquest of America was also a Catholic-Germanic enterprise. And it was only with the authority of Rome and Germanic Christianity that Spain could embark on the expansive Catholic vocation of the conquest of America. It was this Catholic “Germanity” that united the Spanish destiny and the European one.48 The Falangists saw the outbreak of the Second World War as an unparalleled opportunity for making the conceptual empire of Hispanidad a reality. At the same time, the German victories at the beginning of the war intensified the Europeanism of the Falange.49 In Spain, as in other European countries, the continental “New Order” was experienced as an overwhelming reality, a force that would be realized irrespective of the will of any party involved.50 In such a decisive moment, as the “New Order” was, it seemed, in process of being realized, the reappearance of the Hispanic empire appeared as a necessity.51 In his book on The Empire of Spain, Antonio Tovar equated the “New Europe” with the “new Catholicity.” He celebrated the Spain of the end of the fifteenth century for its capacity to halt the deterioration of the nation under Muslim influence and for having effectively suppressed the so-called Jewish Problem. He considered “the Jew,” as representative of both a religion and a culture that were anti-European, anti-national, and anti-Christian, to be a national hazard. Tovar did, however, at the very least, allow for the assimilation of “the Jew” to the Spanish state if the Jewish citizen were to convert to Christianity and an inquisition could verify that this conversion was sincere.52 According to Tovar, the Spanish were to be credited with having effected the Counter-Reformation and thus with having saved Catholicism for posterity. Simultaneously, he observed that the territories formerly under the jurisdiction of the Empire of Charles V corresponded with those presently occupied by fascist Italy, National Socialist Germany, Portugal, and Francoist Spain.53 In his opinion, it was incumbent upon Spain to participate in the creation of a new European and new world order, and this it was authorized to do with the confidence that the Spanish were a people that were predestined to rule.54 In 1941, the same year Tovar published his Empire of Spain, Giménez Caballero visited Berlin. Remarking on the territorial correspondence also mentioned by Tovar, Giménez Caballero classified the relation between Nazism and Francoism as marital. He appraised the racial and historical missions that functioned as driving forces in each of these two countries as mutually reinforcing.55 Laín Entralgo, too, defended totalitarian ideas on the models of Nazi Germany and Mussolini’s Italy in his book Los valores morales del Nacionalsindicalismo (The Moral Values of National Syndicalism), also published in 1941.56 The historian José Antonio Maravall (1911–1986), a contributor to the daily newspaper Arriba, the official organ of the Falange, became particularly interested in the role of Spain in the ‟New Order” of Europe.57 He insisted on the importance of Europe for Spain, deeming their mutual relations as supremely

Hispanidad in the völkisch “New Order”  101 relevant to the nation.58 He asserted that, even in the remotest past, Spain had always evinced a strong European conscience. This conscience had motivated its Christian and imperial mission, and so its fundaments were to be found in the past, though in principle it was also deeply relevant for the present. Maravall saw Europe as a creation of Christianity, the latter of which he understood as a way of ordering temporal and spiritual powers for the common benefit and, ultimately, salvation. The European order had been created by the conjoined endeavors of church and empire, under guidance by “Spanish leaders,” among them Charles V. In essence, “Europe” meant “unity of command,” and Spain was seen as always having organized its imperial ambition in service of this principle. Now that Europe was suffering pain and division, Spain could again perform its historic unifying function. But to achieve the desired unity, Europe itself needed to be redefined. According to Maravall, the structuring doctrines intrinsic to the three great peoples of Europe – the Spanish, the Italian, and the German – had an important feature in common: Each was believed, or believed itself, to have discovered the eternal validity of permanent principles. Therefore, these nations were morally obliged to project themselves outside of their own geographical boundaries. The protagonist in the German context was the National Socialist party, which had been capable, in peacetime, of educating and forming the German populace in order that they might lead the great masses to the battlefields in the eventuality of war. Maravall saw the raison d’être of Europe in just such totalitarianism. Using the concept of totalitarianism, he was able to link ideas such as life power, energy, revolution, and hierarchy. The outcome of the present war would inevitably be the European and world dominion by the three great “peoples” that had each made an essential contribution to the totalitarian order.59 The new totalitarian, fascist Europe would be, at the same time, the stage for the new empire of Spain.

Hispanidad in the politics of Franco’s dictatorship The Falangist discourse of Hispanidad had an effect upon the politics of the first years of Franco’s rule. During these years the government used Hispanidad as one of its principal instruments to stabilize its position inside the country as well as on the international level.60 Inside the country, Hispanidad became a propagandistic and doctrinal pretext for legitimating the dictatorial system by connecting it to the “imperial and eternal Spain”: the Franco regime was declared to be its authentic inheritor, tasked with continuing a spiritual “universal mission.” Outside the country, and particularly after the outbreak of the Second World War, the politics of Hispanidad were meant to increase the value of the Spanish contribution to the new fascist Europe then being forged by the Axis powers. Already in autumn 1937  – that is to say, even before the Spanish Civil War had ended – a Spanish “Nationalist Cultural Mission” was dispatched to several countries in Latin America in order to disseminate the Francoist insurgents’ “message to Latin America.”61 The “Mission” organized different conferences that were attended by members of circles sympathetic to the regime, among them the

102  Marició Janué i Miret oligarchs of these countries, representatives of the Falange abroad, members of religious communities, and diplomatic representatives of “friendly countries” such as Germany, Italy, Portugal, and Japan. More Spanish “missions” to Latin America followed. In addition, in early 1938, Ramón Serrano Suñer, minister of the Foreign Office, re-established the Junta de Relaciones Culturales (Board of Cultural Relations), which had first been created in 1926 during the dictatorship of Primo de Rivera. The first priorities of the board were to create opportunities for postgraduate Latin American studies and to found Hispanic institutes and libraries in Latin America with the aim of attracting local elites.62 In the following years, other academic and research institutions dedicated to the study of Latin America were created in Spain, too. In the same year, Franco appointed Vallejo Nájera director of the Gabinete de Investigaciones Psicológicas de la Inspección de Campos de Concentración de Prisioneros de Guerra (Psychological Research Bureau of Inspection of Prisoners of War in Concentration Camps) and tasked him with an investigation into the “psycho-physic roots of Marxism” using the republican soldiers and Marxist women captured by the insurgent troops as the empirical objects of his analysis.63 Among other activities, he analyzed imprisoned American members of the international brigades who had supported the republican army. In the end, he concluded that Marxists aspired to communism and to class equality as a consequence of their psychic inferiority.64 In addition, Vallejo Nájera established an experimental camp for women in Málaga, with Gestapo agents as advisors.65 His analysis of the imprisoned women led him to conclude that the feminine psyche was very similar to that of children and animals. Therefore, he was of the opinion that the women’s sections of both the Falange and Catholic Action should maintain strict surveillance over all women in general, and particularly over any “red” woman. Basing their actions on the theories of racial cleansing advanced by Vallejo Nájera, the Acción Social (Social Action) arm of the Falange as well as the Spanish Catholic Church played an important role in the abduction of thousands of children of “red” parents who had been either assassinated, imprisoned, or otherwise disappeared.66 The Ministry of Justice was responsible for “collecting” and then distributing these children for the benefit of couples deemed suitable by the regime who desired to raise children. After the end of the Civil War, and particularly after the outbreak of the Second World War, the Franco regime intensified its efforts in the Hispanic cause. On the occasion of the celebration of the “Day of the Race” in 1939, Franco reiterated the historical and cultural affinities shared by Spain and Latin America. Latin America was identified as the ideal target for the regime’s endeavors to increase its influence abroad and to garner international prestige.67 At the beginning of 1940, a decree ordered the creation of a Latin American Commission in the Centro Superior de Investigaciones Científicas (CSIC) (Center for Advanced Scientific Research). This research center, which had been created only one year before, had been established to handle academic and cultural relations within and without Spain during the Franco years.68 In addition, in 1941, the

Hispanidad in the völkisch “New Order”  103 regime used the CSIC to establish the Instituto Bernardino de Sahagún of Anthropology and Ethnology. The institute was tasked with the study of the healthy and normal Spaniard, his regional variations, and his relations with neighboring countries, in order to establish the limits of the normal and the pathological and to undertake efforts of the greatest national importance like the improvement of the race.69 For a few years, the institute helped to fund a number of studies on the Spanish race. Another initiative to institutionalize Latin American studies was the establishment of the Latin American Cultural Association, an organization that was subsidized and controlled by the state.70 The association aspired to founding partner associations in all Latin American countries in order to propagate a notion of Hispanidad that, following the national Catholic discourse in Spain, defined itself as a spiritual-theological order. At the end of 1940, Serrano Suñer established the concept of Hispanidad in foreign policy, too, with the foundation of the Consejo de la Hispanidad (Hispanic Council), affiliated with the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.71 Upon inauguration of the council at Salamanca, both the head of the SS, Heinrich Himmler, and the chief of military counterintelligence, Admiral Wilhelm Canaris, declared their unconditional support.72 In 1941, this council sponsored the production of the film Raza, which Franco himself had authored. The goal of the council was to realize the “community of destiny of the Hispanic peoples,” with Spain at its head.73 However, it met with reservations in certain Latin American countries, and these reservations grew after the United States became involved in the war. In fact, the Council had been founded in the first place to exploit Spanish influence in America and to strengthen the role of Spain in Europe, particularly among the Axis forces in a context characterized by Nazi military victories. The antiNorth American component of Hispanidad politics coincided nicely with the Axis ambition to prevent a continental alliance under US leadership. A scientific theory of Hispanidad allowed the relatively weak Spanish dictatorship to reinforce its own role in the conflict before its powerful European “allies.” In this way, Spain aspired to achieve, in the medium term, a relevant place in the fascist Europe that was in process of construction as well as a share in the much-desired African territories it was hoped Europe would acquire. For their part, the National Socialists celebrated the “Festivity of the Race” in Germany with the aim of strengthening good relations with the Spanish dictatorship. The Spanish sphere of influence in Latin America was seen as a potential sphere of German influence. The rhetoric of the Festivity of the Race in the Third Reich mirrored that in Spain.74 The Spanish efforts to strengthen ties with the Axis forces by means of a theory of Hispanidad were complemented by attempts on the part of Franco’s dictatorship to spread the ideas of the Nazi New Order of Europe throughout Spain. In September 1939, in the context of the outbreak of the Second World War, Falangist intellectual circles founded the Instituto de Estudios Políticos

104  Marició Janué i Miret (IEP) (Institute of Political Studies), which received funding from the state.75 The official journal of the IEP, Revista de Estudios Políticos (Journal of Political Studies), took up the totalitarian message and defended the New Order of Europe and Spain’s contribution to and expected role within it. In its very first issue, the journal published an article by the Catholic German National Socialist jurist Carl Schmitt, whose writings helped in the diffusion of the idea of the new European order among the Spanish Falangists.76 The Falangists made use of Schmitt’s theories of power in order to provide a theoretical basis for the Franco dictatorship.77 In 1943, the IEP invited Schmitt to lecture at the University of Madrid.78 Close relations persisted between Schmitt and the intellectuals associated with the IEP throughout the following years. The IEP also established alliances with the Deutsches Auslandswissenschaftliches Institut (German Institute of Foreign Science), which was funded by the Reichsministerium für Volksaufklärung und Propaganda (Reich Ministry of Public Enlightenment and Propaganda) and the Institut für Weltwirtschaft (Institute for the World Economy) housed at the University of Kiel.79 Another example of the interest demonstrated by the Franco regime in disseminating the foundational ideas of the New European Order can be found in the participation of both the youth (the Frente de Juventudes, or Youth Front) and the women’s (Sección Femenina, or Women’s Section) divisions of the Falange in the creation of the Europäischer Jugendverband (European Youth Federation) that was taking place in Vienna in 1942.80 Among the fourteen participating countries – Bulgaria, Croatia, Denmark, Finland, Flanders, Germany, Hungary, Italy, the Netherlands, Norway, Romania, Slovakia, Spain, and Wallonia – only Spain was neither a member of the Axis powers nor was it a country occupied by them.

Conclusions Historical studies have typically been concerned with underscoring the differences between the Spanish and other nationalist concepts of race in contemporary Europe. However, recent investigations point to the value, even the necessity, of including the Spanish concept of race under the general rubric of racialist thinking that characterized Europe up through the end of the Second World War.81 Regarding the doctrine of Hispanidad that the Spanish fascists adopted, at its core lie the union of a concept of race with one of empire.82 It is nevertheless true that the Spanish concept of race differed from that of the pseudo-scientific, biologically determined concept that had such widespread appeal throughout much of Europe since the middle of the nineteenth century and that had a more direct influence on National Socialist theories of race.83 The concept of Hispanidad did not designate the ethnic category of “Spaniards” in biological terms; instead, the “Hispanic race” was understood as a cultural community, one that was linked through language, religion, tradition, and a shared history. However, among Falangists and during the first years of the Franco dictatorship, Hispanidad did acquire some biological attributes, too. Arguably, this trend had begun even earlier.84 For the Spanish conservative nationalist Regenerationists

Hispanidad in the völkisch “New Order”  105 that defended Hispanismo, the date of reference was 1492. This crucial year was marked by two events: first, the export of Spanish civilization to the New World; and second, the “clean-up” of the Jewish people from the Motherland by means of their expulsion from Spain and Portugal. This expulsion was interpreted simultaneously as the completion of the Reconquista, that is to say, of the reconquest of the Iberian Peninsula from the Arabs and Berbers. According to Ramiro de Maeztu, who popularized the term Hispanidad, centuries spent combatting Islamic and Jewish influence had formed the Spanish character. As a consequence, Spanish nationalism was based on the physical and juridical exclusion of both. This exclusion had a religious basis, but also, at least in part, a biologically determined racist one as well.85 In dealing with the conquest of the Indigenous populations of the New World in the course of formulating an integrated theory of “race,” the advocates of a concept of Hispanismo came to accept inter-mixture with Native Americans as a fact. Those Indigenous populations who had contact with the Spanish culture were integrated into the idea of the Hispanic race. Still, even in America, Hispanismo had exclusionary racist implications. Only those who could prove they were “Spanish” in a cultural sense could be said to belong to the “race.” But there was a catch: even were they able to prove this cultural allegiance, if “in their veins flowed false blood,” that is to say, if they were descendants of Native Americans or Africans, they would be classed as inferior within the Hispanic hierarchy. All the varieties of Hispanismo and Hispanidad involved such racial hierarchies. The “natural” leader was the white Spaniard, who guided the Native Americans and Black Americans. In this way, we can see that in the case of Hispanismo the myth of the race was intimately linked with the social, even more than with the nation. The ideal Hispanic was embodied in the figure of the Christian knight, with whom also the Latin American elites identified themselves. Native Americans and African Americans might achieve the status of spiritual Spaniards, but they remained “mixed” or “impure” and, consequently, they could never attain to the uppermost ruling class. This brand of racial thinking was also strategically applied to opponents on the political left. In the Falangist discourse, leftists would be labeled “red” republicans and equated with Arabs and Jews in order that they be cast as an inferior race.86 During the Civil War and the years immediately following, Spanish racial thought grew radicalized. In this context, the dehumanization effects of the racialized discourse of Hispanidad served to justify particularly pernicious and violent forms of repression against prisoners, political enemies, and their families. Recent studies on violence during the Civil War and post-war years have understood the military rebellion against the Republic as an attempt to exterminate the left in Spain, and not only in a political sense.87 Examples of this are the seizure of children from republican families and their forced adoption and the medical testing performed on political prisoners, as previously mentioned.88 Like other fascisms, the Spanish, too, justified their atrocities. In fact, in spite of the differences between the Nazi and Spanish racial ideologies, the Spanish fascists and the Franco regime used the doctrine of Hispanidad

106  Marició Janué i Miret to strengthen their ties with National Socialism. The European dimension of Hispanidad helped the Spaniards to assign their country a role in the Nazi “New Order” of Europe. For their part, the National Socialists used the celebration of the “Festivity of the Race” in Germany to build up good relations with the Spanish dictatorship.89 Thus, the Festivity of the Race also symbolized an intercontinental consensus on a totalitarian, fascist society. The fact of the Second World War facilitated the sharing of ideas, missions, and objectives.90 It was only after 1943, when the fortunes of war began to turn against the Axis powers, that the Franco regime started to use the concept of Hispanidad with a new object in mind – that is, to legitimate its neutrality in the eyes of the Allied nations. Once it had become clear that Germany was going to lose the war, the regime began to distance itself from the Nazis, breaking the cultural and ideological ties it had forged earlier. But until that moment, the Falangists and even Franco himself had been using Hispanidad as an instrument to aid in achieving their desired status as members of the “New Order” of Europe.

Notes 1 Ismael Saz Campos, España contra España: Los nacionalismos franquistas (Madrid: Marcial Pons, 2003), 70–78. 2 Marcelino Menéndez Pelayo, Historia de los Heterodoxos Españoles (Alicante: Biblioteca Virtual Miguel de Cervantes, 2003) [first published in 1880–1882]. 3 Eduardo González Calleja and Fredes Limón Nevado, La Hispanidad como instrumento de combate: Raza e imperio en la prensa franquista durante la Guerra Civil española (Madrid: Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas, 1988), 11–12; Joshua Goode, Impurity of Blood: Defining Race in Spain, 1870–1930 (Baton Rouge, LA: Louisiana State University Press, 2009), 217; Antoni Raja i Vich, “El ‘Problema de España’ bajo el primer franquismo, 1936–1956: El debate entre Pedro Laín Entralgo y Rafael Calvo Serer” (PhD diss., Universitat Pompeu Fabra, 2010), 217–273, www.tdx.cat/bitstream/handle/10803/7478/tarv.pdf; Saz, España, 67–68, 98–99. 4 “Faustino Rodríguez San Pedro Díaz-Argüelles 1833–1925,” www.filosofia.org/ ave/001/a218.htm. 5 Miguel Rodríguez, “Naissance de la ‘fête de la Race’ (d’une guerre à l’autre),” Matériaux por l’histoire de notre temps 27 (1992): 25. 6 Dawid Danilo Bartelt, “Rassismus als politische Inszenierung: Das Ibero-Amerikanische Institut und der Día de la Raza,” in Ein Institut und sein General: Wilhelm Faupel und das Ibero-Amerikanische Institut in der Zeit des Nationalsozialismus, ed. Reinhard Liehr, Günther Maihold and Günter Vollmer (Frankfurt am Main: Vervuert, 2003), 74–75, 107. 7 Rodríguez, “Naissance,” 27. 8 Bartelt, “Rassismus,” 72–73; Rodríguez, “Naissance,” 25–27. 9 Bartelt, “Rassismus,” 73, 115–116; Lorenzo Delgado Gómez-Escalonilla, Diplomacia franquista y política cultural hacia Iberoamérica 1939–1953 (Madrid: CSIC, 1988), 9–10. 10 Saz, España, 101–105. 11 Bartelt, “Rassismus,” 75–78. 12 Raja, “Problema,” 85–89. 13 Ramiro de Maeztu, Defensa de la hispanidad, 5th ed. (Madrid: Cultura española, 1946).

Hispanidad in the völkisch “New Order”  107 14 Bartelt, “Rassismus,” 77; González and Limón, Hispanidad, 20–23. 15 Bartelt, “Rassismus,” 102–103. 16 Lorenzo Delgado Gómez-Escalonilla, Imperio de papel: Acción cultural y política exterior durante el primer franquismo (Madrid: CSIC, 1992), 121. 17 Delgado, Imperio, 121; Saz, España, 86, 98–99, 166–167, 170. 18 Delgado, Imperio, 123–124; Bailey W. Diffie, “The Ideology of Hispanidad,” The Hispanic American Historical Review 23, no. 3 (1943); González and Limón, Hispanidad, 26–30, 57–70; Saz, España, 184–185. 19 Ernesto Giménez Caballero, Genio de España: Exaltaciones a una resurrección nacional – Y del mundo (Madrid: Ediciones de la Gaceta Literaria, 1932). 20 Saz, España, 118–136. 21 Ibid., 140–150; José Antonio Primo de Rivera, “España: Germanos contra Bereberes,” Razón Española 57 (1993) [written 1936]: 7–8. 22 Bartelt, “Rassismus,” 78–79; Saz, España, 170. 23 Bartelt, “Rassismus,” 116. 24 Saz, España, 161–162. 25 Raja, “Problema,” 93–109, 114; Saz, España, 217–229. 26 Enrique González Duro, Los psiquiatras de Franco: Los rojos no estaban locos (Barcelona: Península, 2008), 92. 27 Saz, España, 171–175, 188. 28 Pedro Laín Entralgo, Europa, España, Iberoamérica (Madrid: Asociación Cultural Iberoamericana, 1947), 11–12. 29 Antonio Tovar, El Imperio de España (Madrid: Ediciones Afrodisio Aguado, 1941). 30 Ibid., 17. 31 Ibid., 10; Saz, España, 184–185, 206–207, 277–278. 32 Tovar, Imperio, 55; Saz, España, 208–209, 252–253. 33 González, Psiquiatras, 98–104; Goode, Impurity, 213. 34 Claudio Francisco Capuano and Alberto J. Carli, “Antonio Vallejo Nagera (1889– 1960) y la eugenesia en la España Franquista: Cuando la ciencia fue el argumento para la apropiación de la descendencia,” Revista de Bioética y Derecho 26 (2012); González, Psiquiatras, 101; Vicenç Navarro, “Los niños perdidos del franquismo,” El País, December  24, 2008, http://elpais.com/diario/2008/12/24/opin ion/1230073210_850215.html. 35 Antonio Vallejo Nájera, Eugenesia de la Hispanidad y regeneración de la raza (Burgos: Editorial Española, 1937), 113–115. 36 Vallejo Nájera, Eugenesia, 38. 37 Ibid., 43. 38 Ibid., 100–104. 39 Ibid., 116–119. 40 González, Psiquiatras, 104–114. 41 Ibid., 114–118, 210–214. 42 Ibid., 302–303. 43 Delgado, Imperio, 124; Diffie, “Ideology”; Rafael García Pérez, “La idea de la ‘nueva Europa’ en el pensamiento nacionalista español de la inmediata postguerra 1939– 1944,” Revista del Centro de Estudios Constitucionales 5 (1990): 233; González and Limón, Hispanidad, 53, 96; Saz, España, 267. 44 Saz, España, 114–116. 45 Primo de Rivera, “España,” 9. 46 Ibid., 14–15, Saz, España, 153–155. 47 Primo de Rivera, “España,” 11–12. 48 Saz, España, 154–155. 49 García Pérez, “Idea,” 204, 212–213, 217, 221; Raja, “Problema,” 113; Saz, España, 286–287.

108  Marició Janué i Miret 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63

64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75

76

77

García Pérez, “Idea,” 221, 227–228. Ibid., 233, 238–239; Saz, España, 279. Tovar, Imperio, 55. Saz, España, 284–285; Tovar, Imperio, 76. Saz, España, 208–209. Goode, Impurity, 212–213. Pedro Laín Entralgo, Los valores morales del nacionalsindicalismo (Madrid: Editora Nacional, 1941); Raja, “Problema,” 113–121, 125, 453. Francisco Javier Fresán Cuenca, “Un ideólogo olvidado: el joven José Antonio Maravall y la defensa del Estado Nacionalsindicalista – Su colaboración en Arriba, órgano oficial de FET y de las JONS, 1939–1941,” Memoria y Civilización 6 (2003). Fresán, “Ideólogo,” 164–168; Saz, España, 282–285. Fresán, “Ideólogo,” 174–177, 183–184; García Pérez, “Idea,” 222–224; Saz, España, 289–290. William B. Bristol, “Hispanidad in South America,” Foreign Affairs 21 (1942/43); Delgado, Diplomacia, 8–9; González and Limón, Hispanidad, 74–80; Rodríguez, “Naissance,” 27. Delgado, Imperio, 126–127; González and Limón, Hispanidad, 81–88. Delgado, Imperio, 127–128; González and Limón, Hispanidad, 88–89. Javier Bandrés and Rafael Llavona, “Psychology in Franco’s Concentration Camps,” Psychology in Spain 1, no. 1 (1997); González, Psiquiatras, 132–146; L. Quiñonero, “Un marxista es un débil mental,” El Mundo, January 20, 2002; Ricard Vinyes Ribas, “Construyendo a Caín: Diagnosis y terápia del disidente – Las investigaciones psiquiátricas militares de Antonio Vallejo Nájera con presas y presos politicos,” Ayer 44 (2001). Bandrés and Llavona, “Psychology,” 6–7; Quiñonero, “Marxista”. Bandrés and Llavona, “Psychology,” 7–8; González, Psiquiatras, 261–265; Vicenç Navarro, “Niños”; Vinyes, “Construyendo”. Capuano and Carli, “Antonio Vallejo Nagera,” 10–12; González, Psiquiatras, 267–272. Delgado, Imperio, 241–243. Ibid., 244–245. Goode, Impurity, 215. Delgado, Imperio, 248–255. Mercedes Barbeito Díez “El Consejo de la Hispanidad,” Espacio, Tiempo y Forma: Serie V – Historia Contemporánea 2 (1989); González and Limón, Hispanidad, 88–89. Bartelt, “Rassismus,” 80. Ibid.; Delgado, Imperio, 268–285. Bartelt, “Rassismus.” Delgado, Imperio, 168–171; Nicolás Sesma Landrín, “Propaganda en la alta manera e influencia fascista: El Instituto de Estudios Políticos (1939–1943)” Ayer 53 (2004); Nicolás Sesma Landrín, “Importando el Nuevo Orden: El Instituto de Estudios Políticos y la recepción de la cultura fascista y nacionalsocialista en España (1939–1942),” in Rebeldes y reaccionarios: intelectuales, fascismo y derecha radical en Europa, ed. Ferran Gallego and Francisco Morente Valero (Mataró: El Viejo Topo, 2011). Carl Schmitt, “El concepto de Imperio en el derecho internacional,” Revista de Estudios Políticos 1 (1941), reproduced in Nicolás Sesma Landrín, Antología de la Revista de Estudios Políticos (Madrid: Boletín del Estado/Centro de Estudios Políticos y Constitucionales, 2009) 148–182; García Pérez, “Idea,” 231–232; Raja, “Problema,” 116–117. José Antonio López García, “La presencia de Carl Schmitt en España,” Revista de Estudios Políticos 91 (1996); Francisco Sánchez-Blanco, “España, inspiración para conservadores alemanes: Alemania, admiración de progresistas españoles – Carl Schmitt: un ejemplo de malentendidos de fondo,” in Las influencias de las culturas académicas alemana y española desde 1898 hasta 1936, ed. Jaime de Salas and Dietrich Briesemeister (Frankfurt am Main: Vervuert, 2000), 105–109.

Hispanidad in the völkisch “New Order”  109 78 Carolina Rodríguez López. “La Universidad de Madrid como escenario de las relaciones hispano-alemanas en el primer franquismo (1939–1951).” Ayer 69, (2008): 114–115; Sesma Landrín, “Importando,” 264–265. 79 Sesma Landrín, “Importando,” 269. 80 Toni Morant Ariño, “Die Gründung des ‘Europäischen Jugendverbands’ und die Frauenund Jugendorganisationen der Falange (Vienna, September  1942),” Themenportal Europäische Geschichte (2012), www.europa.clio-online.de/2012/Article=559. 81 Goode, Impurity, 209–212. 82 Bartelt, “Rassismus,” 76–78, 96–97. 83 Goode, Impurity, 209. 84 Ibid., 209–210. 85 Bartelt, “Rassismus,” 101–104. 86 González and Limón, Hispanidad, 47–57; Navarro, “Niños.” 87 Paul Preston, The Spanish Holocaust and Extermination in the Civil War and After (London: Harper Press, 2011). 88 Goode, Impurity, 212. 89 Bartelt, “Rassismus.” 90 Goode, Impurity, 212–213.

Bibliography Books and articles Bandrés, Javier, and Rafael Llavona. “Psychology in Franco’s Concentration Camps.” Psychology in Spain 1, no. 1 (1997): 3–9. Barbeito Díez, Mercedes. “El Consejo de la Hispanidad.” Espacio, Tiempo y Forma: Serie V – Historia Contemporánea 2 (1989): 113–137. Bartelt, Dawid Danilo. “Rassismus als politische Inszenierung: Das Ibero-Amerikanische Institut und der Día de la Raza.” In Ein Institut und sein General: Wilhelm Faupel und das Ibero-Amerikanische Institut in der Zeit des Nationalsozialismus, edited by Reinhard Liehr, Günther Maihold and Günter Vollmer, 67–129. Frankfurt am Main: Vervuert, 2003. Bristol, William B. “Hispanidad in South America.“ Foreign Affairs 21 (1942/43): 312–321. Capuano, Claudio Francisco, and Alberto J. Carli. “Antonio Vallejo Nagera (1889–1960) y la eugenesia en la España Franquista: Cuando la ciencia fue el argumento para la apropiación de la descendencia.” Revista de Bioética y Derecho 26 (2012): 3–12. Delgado Gómez-Escalonilla, Lorenzo. Diplomacia franquista y política cultural hacia Iberoamérica 1939–1953. Madrid: CSIC, 1988. ———. Imperio de papel: Acción cultural y política exterior durante el primer franquismo. Madrid: CSIC, 1992. Diffie, Bailey W. “The Ideology of Hispanidad.” The Hispanic American Historical Review 23, no. 3 (1943): 457–482. “Faustino Rodríguez San Pedro Díaz-Argüelles 1833–1925.” www.filosofia.org/ave/001/ a218.htm. Fresán Cuenca, Francisco Javier. “Un ideólogo olvidado: el joven José Antonio Maravall y la defensa del Estado Nacionalsindicalista – Su colaboración en Arriba, órgano oficial de FET y de las JONS, 1939–1941.” Memoria y Civilización 6 (2003): 153–187. García, Pérez Rafael. “La idea de la ‘nueva Europa’ en el pensamiento nacionalista español de la inmediata postguerra 1939–1944.” Revista del Centro de Estudios Constitucionales 5 (1990): 203–240.

110  Marició Janué i Miret Giménez, Caballero Ernesto. Genio de España: Exaltaciones a una resurrección nacional – Y del mundo. Madrid: Ediciones de la Gaceta Literaria, 1932. González Calleja, Eduardo, and Fredes Limón Nevado. La Hispanidad como instrumento de combate: Raza e imperio en la prensa franquista durante la Guerra Civil española. Madrid: Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas, 1988. González Duro, Enrique. Los psiquiatras de Franco: Los rojos no estaban locos. Barcelona: Península, 2008. Goode, Joshua. Impurity of Blood: Defining Race in Spain, 1870–1930. Baton Rouge, LA: Louisiana State University Press, 2009. Laín Entralgo, Pedro. Los valores morales del nacionalsindicalismo. Madrid: Editora Nacional, 1941. ———. Europa, España, Iberoamérica. Madrid: Asociación Cultural Iberoamericana, 1947. López García, José Antonio. “La presencia de Carl Schmitt en España.” Revista de Estudios Políticos 91 (1996): 139–168. Maeztu, Ramiro de. Defensa de la hispanidad. 5th ed. Madrid: Cultura española, 1946. Menéndez, Pelayo, Marcelino. Historia de los Heterodoxos Españoles. Alicante: Biblioteca Virtual Miguel de Cervantes, 2003 [first published in 1880–1882]. Morant Ariño, Toni. “Die Gründung des ‘Europäischen Jugendverbands’ und die Frauenund Jugendorganisationen der Falange (Vienna, September  1942).” In Themenportal Europäische Geschichte (2012). www.europa.clio-online.de/2012/Article=559. Navarro, Vicenç. “Los niños perdidos del franquismo.” El País, December 24, 2008. http:// elpais.com/diario/2008/12/24/opinion/1230073210_850215.html. Preston, Paul. The Spanish Holocaust and Extermination in the Civil War and After. London: Harper Press, 2011. Primo de Rivera, José Antonio. “España: Germanos contra Bereberes.” Razón Española 57 (1993): 7–16 [written 1936]. Quiñonero, L. “Un marxista es un débil mental.” El Mundo, January 20, 2002. Raja i Vich, Antoni. “El ‘Problema de España’ bajo el primer franquismo, 1936–1956: El debate entre Pedro Laín Entralgo y Rafael Calvo Serer.” PhD diss., Universitat Pompeu Fabra, 2010. www.tdx.cat/bitstream/handle/10803/7478/tarv.pdf. Rodríguez López, Carolina. “La Universidad de Madrid como escenario de las relaciones hispano-alemanas en el primer franquismo (1939–1951).” Ayer 69 (2008): 101–128. Rodríguez, Miguel. “Naissance de la ‘fête de la Race’ (d’une guerre à l’autre).” Matériaux por l’histoire de notre temps 27 (1992): 24–28. Sánchez-Blanco, Francisco. “España, inspiración para conservadores alemanes: Alemania, admiración de progresistas españoles; Carl Schmitt: un ejemplo de malentendidos de fondo.” In Las influencias de las culturas académicas alemana y española desde 1898 hasta 1936, edited by Jaime de Salas and Dietrich Briesemeister, 91–110. Frankfurt am Main: Vervuert, 2000. Saz Campos, Ismael. España contra España: Los nacionalismos franquistas. Madrid: Marcial Pons, 2003. Schmitt, Carl. “El concepto de Imperio en el derecho internacional.” Revista de Estudios Políticos 1 (1941): 83–101. Sesma Landrín, Nicolás. “Propaganda en la alta manera e influencia fascista: El Instituto de Estudios Políticos (1939–1943).” Ayer 53 (2004): 155–178. ———. Antología de la Revista de Estudios Políticos. Madrid: Boletín del Estado/Centro de Estudios Políticos y Constitucionales, 2009.

Hispanidad in the völkisch “New Order”  111 ———. “Importando el Nuevo Orden: El Instituto de Estudios Políticos y la recepción de la cultura fascista y nacionalsocialista en España (1939–1942).” In Rebeldes y reaccionarios: intelectuales, fascismo y derecha radical en Europa, edited by Ferran Gallego and Francisco Morente Valero, 243–280. Mataró: El Viejo Topo, 2011. Shaw, Martin. “The Spanish Holocaust: Inquisition and Extermination in Twentiethcentury Spain.” Journal of Genocide Research 15, no. 2 (2013): 239–241. Tovar, Antonio. El Imperio de España. Madrid: Ediciones Afrodisio Aguado, 1941. Vallejo Nájera, Antonio. Eugenesia de la Hispanidad y regeneración de la raza. Burgos: Editorial Española, 1937. Vinyes Ribas, Ricard. “Construyendo a Caín: Diagnosis y terápia del disidente  – Las investigaciones psiquiátricas militares de Antonio Vallejo Nájera con presas y presos politicos.” Ayer 44 (2001): 227–250.

6 Portugal, Salazar, and the Nazi “New Order” in Europe Cláudia Ninhos

This chapter attempts to understand the reception in Portugal of the project designed and developed by the National Socialist regime for the establishment of a “New Order” in Europe. The text is divided into two parts. The first part consists of a brief introduction to this National Socialist European project; the second part discusses Portugal’s position regarding the “New European Order.” The primary source informing this analysis is the report sent to António de Oliveira Salazar, prime minister of the Portuguese government, by Pedro Tovar de Lemos, the Portuguese minister to Berlin, as well as the dictator’s response to the Portuguese diplomat. This latter document, a confidential letter, is the only text in which Salazar refers directly and exclusively to this matter. Readers may certainly ask themselves what impact such ideas would have had in a country so far away from Germany and which, moreover, did not directly participate in World War II. According to Manuel Loff, the only Portuguese historian to have reflected on this issue, the European “New Order,” even if carried out under the aegis of the Germans, also benefited from the “participation of secondary actors” who either joined the German war effort, declared themselves politically and morally in concord with the Axis powers, and/or contributed to the economic order that Germany was building.1 Portugal would of course have been one of those secondary actors, as it supported the German war effort. Beyond sharing certain ideological characteristics with the Third Reich, the Estado Novo, although officially neutral, played a crucial role in assisting the Germans. At the same time as Salazar was proclaiming his allegiance to “Allied” Britain, he was selling tungsten – an essential material for armaments production – to Germany. He tenaciously resisted accepting the Allied embargo on the product, yet granted the Allies the right to use the Lajes Air Base (in the Azores).2 Simultaneously, and thanks to the country’s officially neutral status, it was a gathering point for thousands of refugees who sought to escape persecution by Hitler.3 Furthermore, Portugal was the site of extensive espionage activities between the Axis and Allies.4

Germany and the construction of a New European Order After occupying much of Europe, the German government was faced with a pressing problem: How should Europe’s economy be adapted to the needs of the

Portugal, Salazar, and the Nazi “New Order”  113 German Reich? Reflection on this issue produced a number of policy documents by academic and technical staff at the Reich ministries, especially the Auswärtiges Amt (Ministry of Foreign Affairs, hereafter AA), which helped to consolidate the concept of a “New Order.” Some of these documents were generated without Hitler’s knowledge, while others were flatly rejected by him, according to Walter Lipgens. The new political and economic conception of Europe was developed, among others, by Werner Daitz, Anton Reithinger, Reinhard Höhn, and Carl Schmitt,5 all of whom envisioned an ideal “Continental Economy” and a “new economic order.” The memos were drafted primarily in the context of the AA, then under the direction of Foreign Minister Joachim von Ribbentrop, who ended up assigning Carl Clodius to the post of director of the Economic Policy Department of the AA, tasking him with the study of certain issues related to the organization of a “Greater European Economic Area” under German leadership.6 Various reports from members of the ministry were issued to Ribbentrop concerning the creation of a “European Confederation.” However, the German minister was unsuccessful in drawing up any conclusive “statement for Europe” or on the formation of a “European confederation.” These issues were further discussed within various other institutions, such as the Deutsches Auslandswissenschaftliches Institut, the Reichstelle für Raum­ordnung, the Reichsarbeitgemeinschaft für Raumforschung, the Institut für Auswärtige Politik at the University of Hamburg, and the Deutsches Institut für Auslandskunde.7 The Deutsches Auslandswissenschaftliches Institut, for example, organized various courses. In November 1942, it held a workshop on the New Order and, in 1943, a course on “Europe and the World.” Another example was the international conference held at Bad Salzbrunn in March 1944, where social scientists from twenty European countries were in attendance and which published a charter of principles for future European social policy.8 When analyzing any of these documents it is important to be aware, first, that the discourse produced and the ideas developed within these organizations, even within the AA, differed from the arguments circulated through official propaganda. Furthermore, it must be borne in mind that these were ideas and projects that were never fully realized, on account of the German defeat in World War II. The Third Reich was only able to carry out a territorial reorganization plan in the occupied territories in Eastern Europe, which involved the setting up of a colonial type system that either decimated or deported local populations to other territories. If the reorganization of Europe had been implemented by the Germans, it certainly would have been carried out in an imperialist manner. Goebbels did, in fact, make a number of confidential statements that point in this direction: When we were asked [in 1933–1934] how we intended to solve this or that problem, we always answered that we didn’t yet know. We had our plans, but we didn’t subject them to public criticism. And if someone asks us today how we imagine the new Europe, we must again say that we don’t know. We have our own ideas, of course; but if we put them into words we shall at once make enemies and stiffen resistance. . . .

114  Cláudia Ninhos [The] Führer drew the conclusions that all the clutter of small nations (Kleinstaatengerümpel) still existing in Europe must be liquidated as soon as possible. The aim of our struggle must be to create a unified Europe. Only the Germans can really organize Europe.  .  .  . Thereafter the way to world domination is practically certain. To dominate Europe will be to assume the leadership of the world.9 Given this, it is legitimate to ask what the Nazis might have done with the Mediterranean territories and the Iberian Peninsula once they had dominated Europe. Would they have become satellite countries, politically and economically dependent on Germany, or would they have been annexed to the Reich as provinces? If the construction of a European unity was to have been based on race, following the hegemonic logic of Nazi Germany, what would have been the role of countries like Portugal? What position would Portugal, a peripheral country, have occupied with respect to this “shared destiny”? Even among key Nazi leaders, those closest to the Führer and other theorists of the Nazi conception of Europe, there was no unanimity. Hans Frohwein, in June  1943, considered the Atlantic area, the Iberian Peninsula in particular, as the “guardian of the access route from the Atlantic to the Mediterranean” and claimed that, as such, this region could be managed through treaties.10 Others stated that it was impractical to “wait for Sweden, Switzerland, and Portugal to join the confederation while the war continues” and that “their integration is not a priority, since the pacification of Europe does not depend on them but on other states which have been in opposing camps.”11 These imperialist ideas were obviously contradicted by its propaganda, according to which Germany avowed it would respect other peoples and their cultures. Despite the many studies that have been published, there has been no consensus whatsoever among researchers on this controversial and interesting topic. Some authors are still very reluctant to accept that, within National Socialism, proEuropean thought could have developed. Michael Salewski, for example, claims that National Socialism sought to destroy “the spiritual essence of Europe,” and he argues that the “Nazi ideas” about Europe were essentially “anti-European ideas.”12 In this same book, the editor, Walter Lipgens, argues that Hitler’s postwar plans were constructed to subordinate all peoples, leaving no room for equality, not even that approaching the level of cooperation or federal union. For Lipgens, “the totalitarian state was unable to think in such terms, and could only conceive of its expansion in terms of violence and domination.”13 It is true that it is impossible to infer what form post-war Europe would have taken had Germany won the war. However, it is fair to claim, contrary to arguments made by Saleweski or Lipgens, that pro-European ideas were developed in National Socialist Germany. Even more interesting is the fact that these ideas have endured in the post-war period. According to Mark Mazower, the continuity of this discourse is in the end disconcerting, since “some of the key figures and advisors” for the European integration process were not “anti-fascists” but rather individuals who “served the Nazis” despite having quickly grown “disillusioned”

Portugal, Salazar, and the Nazi “New Order”  115 with them.14 As Mazower states, “no political order starts from nothing.” And “Europe’s post-war,” although anxious to “proclaim its break with the past,” was nevertheless intrinsically “linked to it.”15 It is not the place here, however, to examine these issues in detail, since the National Socialist plans to build a “New European Order” will be addressed in greater detail in other chapters within this book. Instead, this essay seeks to understand whether the Portuguese Estado Novo regime was, or was not, “hostile to the Nazi projects.”16 What kind of a reception did these ideas have in Portugal? What attraction did such pro-European discourse have for António de Oliveira Salazar? What expectations did the Portuguese regime have with regard to the post-war era if the Axis powers were to win the war? And if we take into consideration that there were individuals in Portugal who were politically and morally on the side of Germany and that the country, despite everything, also participated in the German war effort, can we fairly claim that Portugal also contributed to the “New Order,” albeit as a secondary, peripheral actor?

Portugal, with its “back turned” on Europe? Echoes of the pro-European rhetoric of the Nazi regime also reached Portugal and Salazar.17 On the western edge of Europe, far from the scene of war when it erupted in 1939, stood a small country that since the early 1930s had been ruled by a dictator, António de Oliveira Salazar. Europe was still in the process of rebuilding in the aftermath of the Great War and continued to experience considerable social, economic, and political instability. According to the memoirs of Luís Cabral Moncada, then a law professor at the University of Coimbra known for his pro-German leanings, the beginning of the 1930s “was an extremely critical moment in European history.”18 In 1934, shortly after Hitler’s rise to power, Hermann Pflüger, a refugee and opponent of the National Socialist regime, came to Portugal. Decades later, in an interview with the historian Irene Pimentel, Pflüger stated that only after arriving in Portugal and reading the regime’s “Ten Commandments of the Estado Novo” did he realize that the Salazar dictatorship shared similarities with that of the Third Reich.19 This propaganda tract in fact summed up the political and ideological characteristics of the Portuguese Estado Novo. The regime began to present itself as a unifying force, as representative of the moral, social, and political vanguard that would bring Portugal’s national heritage in line with the demands of modernity. In addition to guaranteeing independence and national unity, the regime was portrayed as the defender of organic values – values based on the structures of family, corporations, and municipalities, in which the individual was cast as a cellular integer within a greater, organic whole. At the same time, the regime managed to deny individual freedoms. The interest of the individual was made subject to the national interest, thus justifying the use of force in the defense of the homeland. A strong state necessitated a strong executive power. Parliamentarism was therefore rejected, as it was considered a potentially destabilizing force,

116  Cláudia Ninhos subordinating “the Government to the tyranny of political assembly.” A nationalist, anti-liberal, anti-democratic, anti-socialist, anti-communist, and authoritarian matrix formed the core of the Portuguese regime. However, despite the characteristics that it shared with the National Socialist and Italian fascist regimes, Portugal did not join the Axis powers and maintained its neutrality during World War II. It is not the aim here to digress concerning the evolution of the Portuguese geopolitical position in the conflict, nor to understand the reasons that lay behind the maintenance of this status. It could, however, be pointed out that this neutrality made Portugal, particularly the capital Lisbon, a place where Jewish and anti-Nazi refugees crossed paths with spies and diplomats (such as Canaris and Schellenberg)20 working for the Axis powers. Most refugees arrived in the country beginning in the summer of 1940, after the fall of France. At this time, the threat of a German-Spanish invasion of Portugal was very real and did not abate until Operation Barbarossa was put into action.21 Contributing to this sense of threat were also the existence of a vast colonial empire (especially in Africa) and the ownership of strategic territories in the Atlantic (the archipelagos the Azores and Madeira) where the British and the Germans were facing off. Even so, the country remained neutral through the end of the war. Salazar himself, in his various public speeches, repeatedly emphasized the peripheral continental position of the country, highlighting the “British Alliance” and Portugal’s relations with its colonies and with neighboring Spain, in an attempt to show that the country had its “back turned” to the European Continent and its face oriented towards the Atlantic.22 Four years before the conflict broke out, aware of the transformations taking place in Europe, Salazar stated, in an official document published in the newspapers on 20 January 1935, that the Portuguese nation, when intervening outside the peninsula in the fights or quarrels of Europe, did so, in fact, accidentally and so as to defend a vital interest. We are primarily an Atlantic power, imprisoned by nature alongside Spain, politically and economically oriented towards the sea and our colonies, formerly discovered and conquered. . . . The traditional direction of our foreign policy, coinciding with the true interests of the Portuguese Patria, is not engaging, not allowing ourselves to be involved, in European disorders, and maintaining our peninsular friendship, to develop the possibilities of our Atlantic power. . . . To those who ask me if I believe in England and the English alliance I would answer frankly and sincerely that I do so.23 Salazar thus defined the foreign policy objectives that the country wished to see implemented: to distance itself from European problems, to nonetheless acknowledge its contingency on what was happening in Spain, and to orient itself both politically and economically towards its colonies and the Atlantic. These three pillars would be systematically repeated by the dictator. However, discourse and rhetoric are one thing; practice is quite another matter, and so too is the behavior

Portugal, Salazar, and the Nazi “New Order”  117 of the country towards the warring parties. In his memoirs, Cabral Moncada reported the difficulties faced by the dictator during this period: [T]he period from 1931 to 1936, until the Spanish Civil War, and the end of this until the end of World War II (1939–1945), was, you might say, an extremely feverish period. A 40°C fever, during which all the neutral States, such as Portugal, as if holding their breath, remained anxiously expectant and hesitant in their policy, waiting for the dice to finally fall. Salazar’s policy in these circumstances, indeed as it had to be, involved the skillful maneuvering of all the pieces of a difficult game, without ever compromising the neutrality of the country, until such time that it could be fully acknowledged that Germany had lost the war, as he himself, in late 1944, told me shortly after granting the bases in the Azores to the Allies.24 The position taken by Oliveira Salazar during World War II was highly praised by his contemporaries, and even by those who identified themselves ideologically with National Socialism. Metzner Leone, at the time a journalist and well-known Germanophile, congratulated the honest statement issued by Salazar,25 “the statesman serene without cynicism, cautious without hypocrisy, firm without bluster, strong without violence.”26 Cabral Moncada also expressed a feeling of gratitude to Salazar for having guaranteed neutrality, stating that neither the epistolary courting of Mussolini and Hitler, nor the generous gift of an armored car offered by the latter, nor the close relations with the elegant German minister in Lisbon, Baron Von Hoyningen-Huene, managed to sway him from this expectant attitude.27 Salazar, stated Moncada, managed to “place Portugal safe from the horrors of the most stupid and most ferocious of all wars in history,” to place the country in the most worthy position he could, in the midst of a world in tatters which had gone mad, [enabling it] to become one of the few fulcrums of moral and spiritual strength, along with sound good sense, that exist nowadays in Western Europe against the communist barbarity.28 However, despite the claims that he made publicly, Salazar recognized that Portugal was part of mainland Europe and, as such, was subject to influence by what happened within it. “We are prisoners to Europe politically, in so far as we can be dragged along by the unforeseen consequences of a general conflict, and morally to the extent that [Europe] continues to be the brain and heart of the world,” he stated in May 1939 at the National Assembly.29 The idea of neutrality  – which worked to the benefit of the Allies, first Britain then the United States – was conveyed by Salazar’s speeches and propaganda and later assimilated to and reiterated within Portuguese historiography. Some historians

118  Cláudia Ninhos continue, even today, to defend this position. However, a thorough study of Luso-German relations has shown that Portugal had closer ties to Nazi Germany than Salazar ever wanted to admit. Even the dictator himself, while affirming the solidity “of the ties that have bound us to England for centuries,” ensured that he would not “prejudice the good friendships that bind us to others.”30 The clear proof of Salazar’s interest in European reorganization and the Nazi project is provided by the Report that the Count of Tovar, Portuguese minister to Berlin, sent him in November 1941.

The report by Pedro Tovar de Lemos concerning the New European Order:31 some issues regarding the state, the party, and the church When the report reached the hands of the Portuguese dictator, the war was at its peak. The Germans had attacked the Soviet Union, opening a new front in the war, which in Portugal was seen as a veritable crusade. The Portuguese regime’s own militia, the Portuguese Legion (Legião Portuguesa),32 publicly avowed its solidarity with the soldiers fighting ‘‘Russian’’ Communism, clearly challenging the position of neutrality assumed by the Estado Novo. That year, in addition to his appointment as president of the Council of Ministers, Salazar still retained the positions of war minister (since May 1936) and minister for foreign affairs (since November 1936). In times of crisis, at a time when Europe faced a new conflict with the outbreak of civil war in Spain, the dictator made sure that the most important briefs passed through his own hands, enabling him to maintain tight control over Portugal’s foreign relations. Portugal’s diplomatic representative in Berlin was Pedro Tovar de Lemos, who occupied the post following the premature departure of Francisco Nobre Guedes. Known for his intimacy with Germany and indeed National Socialism, the diplomat had been assigned the post as a way of ensuring good relations between the two countries. Early at the start of the report sent to Salazar, Tovar complained that he had still failed to locate a single German in Berlin who would openly discuss the New Order with him. The Portuguese diplomat had been in Germany since June  1941. He had probably been assigned by Salazar to investigate this matter from inside the Reich. Who better than a diplomat, living in Hitler’s Germany, could inform the head of government of a neutral country about what was going on there? Besides his access to the Nazi elite, Tovar maintained contact with the diplomatic representatives of other countries and, in their daily lives, with German citizens. Perhaps as a result, Tovar concluded that the Germans did not want to discuss the New Order, either because they knew nothing about it or for fear of reprisal if discovered. Nobody seemed to have, he surmised, any sort of global vision. From the little he had managed to learn, Tovar came to several conclusions. First, he conjectured that Germany considered itself to be tasked with the historic mission of establishing a new regime within the European continent after the war. This regime was to end the inequalities “inherent” within a plutocracy and under Bolshevism, thus unequivocally expressing its Manichean

Portugal, Salazar, and the Nazi “New Order”  119 worldview dominated by the opposition of two rival ideologies, both of which Germany considered inimical to itself. This position was not, however, a unique one within the Portuguese elite. Salazar and his supporters had long expressed a deep hatred of communism and capitalism alike, and the Estado Novo was presented as an alternative, a third way. Cabral Moncada, who was decorated by the Nazi regime, describes this self-image very clearly in his memoirs. Although written a posteriori, Moncada recalled that in the 1930s Europe, as it was, was divided into two ideological and socio-economic blocks: on one side, the Marxist-Leninist totalitarian communist bloc, having Soviet Russia as its central core, endowed with a power to inestimably expand and on the other, the democratic and capitalist western block, already deeply penetrated by the influences of the former through their Communist parties, particularly in Germany, Italy, and France.33 In this respect, both Tovar and Moncada felt a seemingly natural affinity with National Socialism. For the Portuguese diplomat, the fulfillment of this historic mission on the part of Germany would involve the cooperation of all Europeans. Each country within this new Europe should – at least according to Tovar – maintain its governmental and administrative autonomy. Such a unity required the solidarity of all in the standardization of the structure of all European states as well as unequivocal agreement on the principles to be adopted in order to realize their common objectives. Concerning the common welfare, this would be achieved by means of a better distribution of wealth “through the intensive development of the untapped potential for wealth,” by putting an end to unemployment, and by rationalizing production and price stabilization. In this regard, Germany’s role would be twofold: to defend the continental “community” against external interference and aggression and to “maintain order” by acting as arbitrator in the event of disputes. According to Tovar, this new Europe did not aspire to economic self-sufficiency, as exchanges with other “spaces” were beneficial for European prosperity, but neither should it become dependent on such other spaces concerning the import of any particular product, since such dependence could be used as a form of political pressure. If Africa were to be considered as an “integral part of the European space,” it raised the possibility of Germany delegating the establishment of this New Order in the Mediterranean to Mussolini. Now, if we compare the statements of Tovar de Lemos with the documents addressing the economic “New Order” mentioned previously, it becomes clear that the arguments are in fact the same. The report opens by stating the few overarching principles of this European order that, according to the Portuguese diplomat, were now uncontested in Germany. Tovar then continues to comment upon and offer his own critique of these principles from the point of view of Portuguese interests. In his opinion, in seeking to build a European community, Germany was guided by a will to “resurrect the medieval concept of Christendom in a new format,” one based on “spiritual and religious ties.” At this point, it should be noted

120  Cláudia Ninhos that the Germans always defined Europe in cultural and civilizational terms, in a dialectic connecting the past with the future. To this end, it had recourse to a certain concept of history as its legitimating source. Neither German propaganda nor the documents issued from within the AA defined Europe in geographical terms. For Hitler, for example, Europe is not a geographical conception, it is a matter of blood in one’s veins [ein blutmässig bedingter Begriff]; the real frontier between Europe and Asia has been the one that separates the Germanic world from the Slavic world. It’s our duty to place it where we want it to be.34 In addition to underscoring this cultural and historical matrix, Tovar considered that development of the European community had to be a “collective work,” a task that would integrate the influence of other countries. As far as Germany was concerned, he did not see “the least intention of [Germany] imposing an exclusively Germanic European doctrine”; rather, what he identified was a continuous call for collaboration and cooperation. This was in fact an idea often disseminated by German propaganda. It should be remembered that, in March  1943, Goebbels instructed German journalists that the “New European Order” should be presented in such a manner that foreigners would not have the impression that German leaders sought to subjugate them. According to Hans Frohwein, the New Order would be constructed in accordance with a principle of leadership that emphasized “mutual loyalty” and that was not based on hegemonic and imperialist ideas.35 The various memoranda which have been alluded to argue that the idea of a federal solution based on voluntary cooperation should be disseminated so as to increase confidence in German policy and willingness to follow its lead after the war came to an end.36 It was important, therefore, to eliminate any suspicion that Germany would attempt to do this by force. The new European order would be a community of sovereign states in which freedom and independence were mutually guaranteed and wherein every state would maintain sovereignty over its own internal affairs.37 Thus it is not surprising that Tovar would have assimilated and expressed the opinion he did. The Portuguese diplomat even considered, given the prestige Portugal enjoyed within Germany, that “the hypothesis of a Portuguese contribution to the formation of the new doctrine” was “less remote than may at first sight appear.” In view of this proposed collaboration it was envisaged that the Latin countries, such as France or Portugal, would be responsible for the administration of a special domain, that of the “spiritual.” Through his arguments Tovar was actively seeking to mitigate Salazar’s known fears regarding the Nazis’ expansionist and hege­ monic intentions. When António Ferro, journalist and head of the National Propaganda Secretariat, questioned Salazar about the figure of Hitler in an interview, the dictator acknowledged his “great service in having pushed back the boundaries of Communism with astonishing energy and exciting brawn.” He feared, however, that the Führer had gone too far at the economic and social level. What did not please him, furthermore, was the “great popular force” that surrounded Hitler, and

Portugal, Salazar, and the Nazi “New Order”  121 he mentioned by contrast the example of Mussolini, whose photograph he kept on his desk, as being “more prudent, more Latin.”38 Salazar feared, as he confided in Ferro, that the “exaltation of nationalism” led to the pursuit of hegemony over others, clearly alluding to the National Socialist regime. Tovar himself, however, held no such reservations. In his opinion, if the establishment of a New Order called for standardization, at the European level, of the actual structure of the state, he saw no obstacle to Portuguese participation in it. One could hardly find in Europe, the diplomat wrote, “another country with such a similarity of institutions, principles of governance, and political and social ideologies to those in Germany” as Portugal. In this way Tovar exemplified the view held by a substantial part of the Portuguese elite, who themselves emphasized the institutional and ideological similarities between the two regimes. Moncada, for example, considered that the National Foundation for Joy at Work (Fundação Nacional para a Alegria no Trabalho, or FNAT, founded in 1935) and the Youth and Portuguese Legion (Mocidade e Legião Portuguesa, MP and LP, founded in 1936), [were] innocent replicas of Kraft durch Freude and the Hitler Youth.39 In addition to the similarities of the MP, LP, and the FNAT with German institutions, both regimes shared a very close ideological foundation. However, Tovar did identify some differences between the two countries, the main difference being the role played by the Party. But this difference did not bother him since, in his opinion, the position of the Party within the state need not be standardized. The National Union (União Nacional, or UN, the only party in the Portuguese regime) had been created “from above” in the first place. Unlike the NSDAP, the UN was not a party of the masses, nor was it a decision-making body. Besides not having any effective power, it remained a marginal party in Portuguese society. Another central difference was the position of the state with regard to the church. The fight between the National Socialist state and the German churches, both Catholic and Protestant, “hurts the religious feelings of the Portuguese, and this resentment is perhaps,” Tovar wrote, “the greatest obstacle currently precluding a more affective closeness between the two countries,” and it was also this difference that was being exploited by the Portuguese “enemies of Germany.” The Portuguese Catholic press had consistently accused the National Socialist regime not of severely persecuting the Jews but of attacking Catholicism. The Catholic press also condemned the Nazi regime for wresting control over the education of young Germans from the Catholic Church and its affiliated organizations. In his report, Tovar therefore sought to deny the religious persecution of Protestants and Catholics by the Nazi regime and at the same time to prove that there was not “the slightest hint that Germany wants to involve other countries in an anti-religious policy.” To this end, he reiterated exactly the arguments the Nazi propagandists intended be promulgated abroad. He stated, first of all, that the German state was atheistic and could in any event not identify with a single religion, since the

122  Cláudia Ninhos Germans, unlike the Portuguese, were neither primarily Catholic nor Protestant. It is worth noting that in the report made by José Luís da Silva Dias, an official of the National Propaganda Secretariat, on the occasion of his visit to Germany, the Portuguese press agent recounted that “a Ministry of Propaganda official, a Doctor of Philosophy, who accompanied me throughout the journey” presented him with the following theory: Fortunately in Portugal there is only one religion, so in your country you can say – one State, one Head of State, and one Religion. But in Germany, we must consider the religious denominations in a certain manner as enemies of the unity that the Third Reich is seeking to fully achieve. Religion belongs to the intimate nature of each individual and moves to a higher plane of religious feelings so that the large German community can feel realized. As a result, the education of youth is one of the tasks of the State which is considered as being exclusive such that there is no wish to share it with any dividing element.40 From this text two key ideological messages can be discerned. The first is that the Third Reich desired to create a community of destiny that would unite all Germans and, in the effort to create this Volksgemeinschaft, religion was considered a force of disunity because in Germany there existed no majority religious denomination. In the second place, the Germans insisted that it was the National Socialist state that would ensure the education of Germans, and the state should not, therefore, share this task with other institutions such as the church. Now, if these documents are seriously considered, it is clear that the arguments explaining the position of National Socialism with regard to Catholicism that were disseminated in Portugal among the Portuguese were, in essence, the same as those presented by Tovar.

Portugal and the “Final Solution” to the “Jewish Problem” Beyond the position the National Socialist regime took concerning Catholic and Protestant denominations, there was another aspect in which the German government differed from the Portuguese and because of which, according to Tovar, the Portuguese public held a negative opinion of it: this was “the German government’s policy towards the Jews.” The popular repudiation of the Portuguese would have been far more vehement, he claimed, if the public “had known the details of the extreme cruelty that formed part of [Germany’s] inhuman and disagreeable policy.” According to Tovar, most German citizens were against the persecution of Jews, most of which was carried out by a “section of the Party.” Nonetheless, in spite of his efforts to excuse the German population, in the end Tovar did acknowledge that Hitler lent his personal support to this persecution. Indeed, Portuguese public opinion, unlike that of the diplomat and Salazar himself, was ill-informed about the anti-Semitic persecution, given that the official censor removed any news items that the newspapers might have otherwise

Portugal, Salazar, and the Nazi “New Order”  123 published on the subject. On this issue, Tovar believed that the “cleansing of Judaism” was an essential aspect of establishing the New Order, and if such an order required standardized “governmental procedure” “across the European area,” then it was “foreseeable that, in the event of a German victory, this will be one of the problems regarding which our collaboration will be requested . . . if it ends up establishing the New Order in Europe.” Tovar was, without knowing it, absolutely right about the possibility of Portugal being called upon to cooperate in the anti-Semitic persecutions being carried out by the Nazi regime. Therefore, it is worth making an aside here to better understand this issue. In July 1942, the RSHA (Reichssicherheitshauptamt, or Reich Security Main Office) asked the German diplomats who were in Lisbon if it would be possible to “prevent emigration from Portugal” because there was considerable interest “in the seizure of the Jews” in that country, “as part of the final solution for the Jewish question in Europe.”41 The so-called Final Solution to the Jewish Problem, the euphemism used by the Nazis to refer to the extermination of that people, had already been underway since the beginning of Operation Barbarossa. It involved deporting all the Jews to the East, where they would be murdered. Until then, the Nazi policy had favored the departure of Jews from the Reich and its occupied territories. After the invasion of the Soviet Union, the plan was changed completely. It is within the context of this radical – albeit gradual – change that the telegram from the RSHA to Lisbon must be understood. On 8 September 1942, the German consul in Lisbon, Höllberg, informed the AA that there would be no point in asking the Portuguese government to “extradite the Jews originating from Germany or territories occupied by Germany”; moreover, it was pointless to “attempt to carry out the repatriation of the Jews in Portugal through the existing links between the [German and Portuguese] police forces.”42 In turn, Hellmuth Dietmar, an advisor at the Lisbon Legation, in a letter to the AA, also completely ruled out any possibility of preventing this overseas emigration, because the transit of Jews was seen from a humanitarian perspective in Portugal. Furthermore, the diplomat ensured that the Portuguese would refuse any official request from the German government, arguing that they were of the understanding that the Jews who had traveled abroad had, according to Reich Citizenship Law, relinquished their German nationality. On 12 September  1942, Martin Luther, who had represented the AA at the Wannsee Conference,43 once again, as he had done the previous two years as well, included the German Legation in Lisbon in his request for twelve examples of Portuguese law regarding the processing of Jews from various countries as well as data on the situation regarding the current Jewish populations.44 Months before, more precisely on 18 July 1942, Eichmann had warned the AA of the problem of Jewish “emigration to the West” by sea, as part of his “perspective regarding the solution of the Jewish problem.”45 What had happened was that, as part of this “emigration” process, Jews who had reached a Swedish port were trying to escape by plane, through Britain to Lisbon. According to Eichmann, an

124  Cláudia Ninhos attempt was being made to use this port city for mass maritime emigration overseas. He also warned of the failure to control the passenger lists and the cargo of airplanes originating from Sweden, which, if effectively done, could prevent the unwanted emigration of Jews from this neutral country. Shortly afterwards, a letter from the AA concerning the prevention of “Jews emigrating overseas from Lisbon” fell into the hands of Emil Schroeder, the representative of the German police at the Lisbon Legation. The matter was so urgent that Schroeder had received a communication from the RSHA recalling that “in seeking a solution to the Jewish question in Europe, which has already begun and has been ongoing since October 1941,” there was “an order to prevent the emigration of Jews from the Reich and the occupied territories and also if possible from the rest of Europe.” However, because of “the overall situation and especially after the start of the evacuation of the Jews to the East,” it became evident that the Jews were taking advantage of “any situation to leave Europe” and, from that perspective, the RSHA wanted to know whether there was the possibility of preventing the emigration of Jews from Portugal. Schroeder forwarded the request to the advisor Dietmar. Dietmar replied by stating that he would seek to get the Portuguese government to prevent the emigration of Jews, though confirming from the outset that it would be a difficult task, since, for humanitarian reasons, the Portuguese state treated any Jew passing through Portugal in the same way, regardless of their nationality. He was sure that, in any case, Portugal would not prevent this emigration. It was therefore useless to ask the Portuguese government and its police force to “extradite” Jews from the occupied territories to Germany. Only very rarely and in special cases involving legal infractions had the PVDE – the regime’s political police – expelled a Jew from Portugal to Spain. As for the Jewish refugees who did not have any money or valid documents and therefore could not leave Portugal, the Portuguese police put them in areas of fixed residence until it became possible for them to leave the country.46 Although the Portuguese authorities were not aware of this exchange, the documents reveal that the Germans also included Portugal in their designs for the “Final Solution” to the “Jewish Problem” – a solution that was, as Tovar pointed out in his report, requisite to establishing the New European Order.

Salazar and the “New European Order” Shortly after receiving the report written by Portugal’s representative in Berlin, Salazar wrote to Tovar de Lemos with his comments on it.47 Enthusiastically praising the document, noting how “remarkable it was for its clarity of exposition and systematization of the issues, facts, and for its inferences,” he stated that it would be distributed to the major Portuguese embassies and legations. Although publicly he had always advocated a more “Atlanticist” geopolitical position for Portugal, the response from the Chairman of the Council to the Portuguese diplomat evinced great interest in what was happening in Europe (i.e., in the German objectives for the founding of a “New Order”).

Portugal, Salazar, and the Nazi “New Order”  125 But what did the “New Order” mean to Salazar? In his opinion, the Germans were “masters at finding major formulas for indefinite problems.” However, the problems referred to in the letter were undoubtedly those of the future post-war Europe. For this very problem the Germans had outlined their own formula, which they had designated the “New Order.” At the very moment he was writing to Tovar, this future was as yet still unclear. The dictator understood the consequences of the war would entail the reorganization of European territory and a new collaboration among various heretofore sovereign nations; in this, he corroborated the statements of the diplomat Tovar, who wrote that this would necessarily be a collective task. In Salazar’s opinion, the establishment of a “New Order” in Europe was a necessity. He did, however, express great uncertainty as to how this might materialize. He was sure the Germans planned to impose their vision of the “New Order” on Europe and, eventually, on the territories outside the “Old Continent.” Such a vision could only be realized if it were applied to the whole of Europe, or at least to some areas strategically. Either the New Order would be freely acquiesced to or else it would have to be imposed. This was for Salazar one of the most problematic aspects, and in this way he contradicted the opinion of Tovar, who claimed not to see, as far as the Germans were concerned, any desire to impose their policy on others. Yet, for an order to be maintained, it seemed essential that there be a “force” that could define and impose it. What force would that be? Salazar regarded Great Britain as a counterweight to German influence, a nation that had always in its way remained removed from the continent, with its attention focused on its relationships with its colonies. Therefore Britain was in a better position to “chair” the reorganization of the continent, as long as this function was kept within certain limits. The methods, principles, and the results would differ, of course, according to the national power that was entrusted with this task. Salazar was sure that Britain had its own plans for Europe, were it to win the war. He still did not, however, have very clear ideas about what those designs might be. Salazar did not doubt that the “New Order,” as had been suggested by Tovar de Lemos, would require that the political regimes and laws of each state be made uniform. This requirement of uniformity would also apply to their economic organization. For this to work, it would be necessary to coordinate the economy of each country with that of every other state and all of these together under a single economy. There would thus be a set of rules that would have to be accepted and that it would be necessary to obey. The common interest, should it exist – and on this matter Salazar seemed to have serious doubts – was “confused,” was constantly being defined and put into practice by governments “without, despite, or even against the governed majority.” Moreover, he believed that this interest was often invoked in order to hide private interests. Regarding the fact that the “New Order” was always expressed in economic terms, he asserted that this was due to the fear of presenting the problem in “full,” fear of taking the issue beyond the economic sphere. This could be explained by one of two reasons: either (1) the ideas behind the “New Order”

126  Cláudia Ninhos were not fully developed, or (2) because people were simply not ready for it. Salazar was convinced that the economic arena was only the jumping off point for political domination. He believed, in short, that the “New Order” had objectives that went beyond the mere economic ordering of Europe and therefore presumed it would always and necessarily involve political action. Salazar was certain that the Germans would not be content with economic domination. For the Portuguese dictator, the political hegemony of one nation, or of an accord of nations, was essential, even for the establishment of a new economic order. This was, for him, the most sensitive issue. The further the objectives of the reorganization were implemented, the less autonomous each state would become. Unlike Tovar, who guaranteed that there existed no talk in Germany of “transfers of sovereignty,” Salazar feared that, in the final instance, it was exactly a portion of their sovereignty that the states would stand to lose under the “New Order.” Given this, the principle of equality among the various nations would always be at risk. This was because a principle of equality would certainly enter into conflict with the desire of the great powers to further increase their political domains. Thus, Salazar raised some questions: How would the organization of Europe appear in political terms? Would each state retain its independence, personality, and freedom? The issue made Salazar anxious, as he could foresee a “catas­ trophic” response. The preoccupation with uniformity would be “ruinous for the independence and originality of European nations.” Such uniformity might even be based on “a theory of race” and legitimate the use of violence and “indiscriminate repression” that he considered “inhumane.” Tovar’s statements did not reassure him that in the unified New Europe each country would maintain its governing and administrative autonomy. Salazar was overwhelmingly concerned that the “victorious superior people” would “work” their victory “for their [own] advantage against the so-called inferior peoples.” It was the clarity with which this goal was stated in Mein Kampf that inspired his fear. Another fear expressed by Salazar was whether Europe would be reduced to its geographical continental dimensions. The dictator completely rejected the concept of Europe as a “continental” space, stating the importance of the European legacy abroad. On this point, he agreed with Tovar, who viewed the African continent as an integral part of Europe. Salazar was clearly aware that everything that happened in Europe would also impact Portugal and thus he displayed an authentic interest in what was happening outside the borders of his country. In fact, he actually advised Tovar “to concern himself with this issue” and not to miss any opportunity to “elucidate and clarify the Government about it.” Fundamentally, this information was crucial in determining whether the interests of the country were at risk and how Portugal could collaborate in the new international order. Interestingly, the German authorities were aware of this exchange of information between Tovar and Oliveira Salazar. Actually, the Sicherheitdienst (SD) was informed by a “confidential source” from the Portuguese Legation in Berlin that Tovar de Lemos had sent a report to Oliveira Salazar on the concept of “New Order” in Europe.48

Portugal, Salazar, and the Nazi “New Order”  127 In this report, the Portuguese minister stated that he was in contact with two personalities from the NSDAP. According to the SD, those “personalities” were Heinrich Hunke, president of the Advertising Council of German Industry (Werberat der deutschen Wirtschaft), and Eberhard von Jagwitz, undersecretary of the Ministry of Economic Affairs (Reichswirtschaftsministerium). Based on this information, Martin Luther, undersecretary at the Foreign Office, sent Ewald Krümmer to ask Hunke if he had really spoken with Tovar about the “New European Order.”49 Krümmer was requested to inform Hunke that it was undesirable to talk in this manner with heads of foreign diplomatic missions. Finally, Luther wanted to know what Hunke had told the Portuguese minister and instructed Krümmer not to mention the source of his information. On 18 May 1942, Krümmer reported to Luther his conversation with Hunke.50 Hunke assured him that he had had no political discussions with either the Portuguese nor with other foreign diplomats. He had only spoken with Tovar, former head of the Economic Department of the Portuguese Ministry for Foreign Affairs, regarding some basic features of European economic policy, among them the question as to whether the future economy could get along without a gold standard and what might be the role of customs borders in an expanded European economic area (großer europäischer Wirtschaftsraum).

Final remarks Despite the rampant nationalism that prevailed in Germany, it has to be acknowledged that this helped to promote a pro-European discourse. Concepts such as “Europeanism” and “Europeanness” are extremely ambivalent in light of fascism and naturally raise numerous difficulties in terms of their understanding. Among those who lived through this period, there predominated a belief rooted in the idea that something entirely new was happening. It was believed that times were radically changing and that a new era was approaching. With the decline of the “old world,” a “new world” would emerge. From this “old world,” circumscribed by concepts of liberalism, democracy, capitalism, communism, and a general feeling of “disorder,” another world would materialize, one which was fascist, anti-democratic, anti-liberal, and anti-Marxist. Engaging in what was considered to be a revolutionary new process, this time ultranationalist “revolution” offered itself as a third way. A third way in relation to what? In relation to parliamentary and capitalist liberalism on the one hand, and to Marxist socialism on the other? This anti-liberal “revolution” was also undemocratic. In opposing the validity of a dialectical concept of class struggle, it presented itself not as defending a class, but rather as defending national unity. As far as fascism was concerned, communism was the primary enemy, a covert virus that threatened to contaminate society and, above all, the nation. The anti-Bolshevik crusade thus was deployed to incite greater mobilization. Germany was not, however, a unique case. The various authoritarian regimes of the right presented themselves as an alternative to the previously existing order. In opposition to the dilapidated parliamentary system and Marxist-Leninist

128  Cláudia Ninhos solutions, the radical right emerged as the standard bearers of a “New Order,” a “new idea.” This “New Order” consisted of a broad project that was not only political but also cultural, racial, and economic in nature. It would, in essence, be a “New Order” of ideological, spiritual, political, and economic dimensions. Economically, this meant breaking with the “old” liberal capitalism, which was considered as having failed completely in light of the crises of the late 1920s and early 1930s. Additionally, experience of war had already shown that the intervention of the state in economic life was decisive. This therefore implied an active, interventionist role on the part of the state. In Europe, Germany had conceived of the construction of a “Great Economic Area” (Großraumwirtschaft), autarchic in nature, to be achieved through the conquest of living space (Lebensraum). On the African stage, the exploitation of resources from the colonies would complement this. In the minds of some National Socialist leaders, and in the arguments conveyed through its propaganda, “Europeanness” would not be confined to the economic sphere alone, even though, by extension of this too, it would exceed geographical boundaries. However, the Reich purported to last one thousand years withstood only twelve. Thus, with the defeat of Germany in 1945, the “New European Order” was destined to remain a blueprint. The Portuguese Estado Novo, in contrast, endured for three decades. Even so, the end of the war, which led to the end of Nazi fascism, forced the Portuguese regime to modify its platform and to tone down its fascistic rhetoric. The “art of knowing how to last,” in the words of Fernando Rosas,51 and the emergence of the Cold War allowed the regime to hold out, and it was not until 1974 that it was overthrown by a military coup. The two documents analyzed here allow us to draw some conclusions. First, it seems beyond doubt that Oliveira Salazar, the president of the Council, had spent time reflecting on the future of Europe after the war. The German projects for the reconstruction of the European continent interested Salazar despite his having always publicly maintained an Atlanticist geopolitical position. The proof of this lies in the fact that he had the Tovar Report sent to various Portuguese embassies and legations, meanwhile also requesting the diplomat keep him informed on the matter. Despite his interest, he had some misgivings. German imperialism and paganism, for example, frightened him. What is more, the dictator was also certain that the “New Order” would be forced upon Europe and that economic policy was merely the first step on the road to the political domination of the continent. Another inference to be drawn is that Portugal was a supporting actor in the conflict, holding itself within a sort of “grey area”52 by its participation in the German war effort. The country, contrary to the view propagated in the post-war period, even tried to close its borders to the refugees who sought to save themselves from the persecutions carried out by National Socialism. Portugal maintained this position even after recognizing that the fate of those individuals would be death.53 If many Jews and political opponents were saved by escaping through Portugal, this was not due to the mercy of Salazar but to the impossibility of their repatriation. The regime required refugees to submit entry visas for other countries in order to enter Portugal, and it progressively restricted the period they were

Portugal, Salazar, and the Nazi “New Order”  129 allowed to remain in the country. Those who could not leave were also placed in areas of permanent residence, far from the capital. The attitude of the Portuguese government is explained not by the fact that it was anti-Semitic but through its fear that foreigners “would contaminate” national public opinion. Thus, as the historian Irene Pimentel has stated, in Salazar’s Portugal it was better to be a Jewish refugee than a political refugee.54 With regard to the Holocaust, it can also be stated that Portugal was implicitly involved in the process of the “Final Solution to the Jewish Problem,” which, as Tovar had realized, would have been an essential element in forging the “New European Order” outlined by the Germans. This was one of the most problematic aspects for Portugal, where Jews were well-integrated and occupied prominent positions in society.

Notes 1 Manuel Loff, O nosso século é fascista! O mundo visto por Salazar e Franco (1936– 1945) (Porto: Campo das Letras Editores, 2008), 30–31. 2 António Louçã, Hitler e Salazar: comércio em tempos de guerra, 1940–1944 (Lisbon: Terramar, 2000). 3 Irene Pimentel, Judeus em Portugal durante a II Guerra Mundial: em fuga de Hitler e do Holocausto (Lisbon: A Esfera dos Livros, 2006). 4 Irene Flunser Pimentel, Espiões em Portugal durante a II Guerra Mundial: Como o nosso país se tornou num ponto de passagem de agentes ingleses e alemães (Lisbon: A Esfera dos Livros, 2013). 5 Carl Schmitt, Völkerrechtliche Großraumordnung mit Interventionsverbot für raumfremde Mächte: Ein Beitrag zum Reichsbegriff im Völkerrecht (Berlin, Leipzig and Vienna: Deutscher Rechtsverlag, 1941), 38. 6 Documents on the History of European Integration. Series B 1.1, vol. 1: Continental Plans for European Union 1939–1945, ed. Walter Lipgens (Berlin and New York: De Gruyter, 1985), 61. 7 Ibid., 40. 8 Ibid., 164–166. 9 Ibid., 11–12. 10 Ibid., 134. 11 “Notes on the establishment of a European confederation, August 1943,” quoted from ibid., 141. 12 Quoted from ibid., 54. 13 Ibid., 13. 14 Mark Mazower, Hitler’s Empire: Nazi Rule in Occupied Europe (London: Allen Lane, 2008), 571. 15 Ibid., 575. 16 Loff, O nosso século é fascista, 65. 17 One of the instruments used by Germany to channel its European-oriented message to other countries was the journal Junges Europe, which had a version published in Portugal – A Jovem Europa – which formed the focus of my master’s dissertation. See: Cláudia Ninhos, “Em torno da revista ‘Junges Europa’. A propaganda, a ideologia e a cultura ao serviço das relações luso-alemãs (1933–1945)” (MA diss., Universidade Nova de Lisbon, 2010). 18 Luís Moncada, Memórias: ao longo de uma vida (Lisbon: Verbo, 1992), 151. 19 Cláudia Ninhos and Irene Pimentel, Salazar, Portugal e o Holocausto (Lisbon: Temas e Debates/Círculo de Leitores, 2013), 77.

130  Cláudia Ninhos 20 Walter Schellenberg, Confissão do silêncio (Lisbon: Ed. Ulisseia, 1963). 21 Manuel Ros Agudo, A grande tentação: Franco, o Império Colonial e o projecto de intervenção espanhola na Segunda Guerra Mundial (Alfragide: Casa das Letras, 2009). 22 António de Oliveira Salazar, Discursos e Notas Políticas (Coimbra: Coimbra Editora, 1951), 4. 23 António de Oliveira Salazar, Discursos e Notas Politicas (Coimbra: Coimbra Editora, 1937), 2: 79–81. 24 Moncada, Memórias, 151–152. 25 He was referring to the news item published in the press on 1 September 1939, shortly after the invasion of Poland by the German troops, in which Portuguese neutrality was declared. 26 Leone Metzner, Drama Europeu (Lisbon: Cosmos, 1940), 72. 27 Moncada, Memórias, 183. 28 Luís Cabral de Moncada, “A  obra de Salazar à luz do sentimento Histórico da sua época,” in Um Grande Português e uma Grande Europeu: Salazar (Lisbon: União Nacional, s.a.), 19–20. 29 António de Oliveira Salazar, Discursos e Notas Políticas (Coimbra: Coimbra Editora, 1943), 3: 139. 30 Ibid., 3: 81. 31 “‘The New Order’. Report from the Portuguese Minister in Berlin to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs (November 15, 1941),” in Dez Anos de Política Externa (1936–1947): A Nação Portuguesa e a Segunda Guerra Mundial (Lisbon: Imprensa Nacional-Casa da Moeda, 1974), 10: 59–69. 32 Luís Nuno Rodrigues, A Legião Portuguesa: A milícia do Estado Novo, 1936–1944 (Lisbon: Editorial Estampa, 1996). 33 Moncada, Memórias, 151. 34 Quoted from Lipgens, Documents on the History of European integration, 12. 35 Ibid., 133. 36 Ibid., 138. 37 Ibid., 143. 38 António Ferro, Entrevistas a Salazar (Lisbon: Parceria A.M. Pereira, 2007), 140. 39 Moncada, Memórias, 82. 40 Impressões da breve visita que o funcionári d S.P.N. José Luís da Silva Dias fez à Alemanha por ocasião da Exposição do Livro Português (March 8, 1939), DirectorateGeneral of Archives, Lisbon (Direcção-Geral de Arquivos, DGARQ), AOS/CO/PC12E, pt. 3. 41 Letter to Ges.Rat Dietmar, Lisbon, September 8, 1942, Political Archive of the Federal Foreign Office, Berlin (Politisches Archiv des Auswärtigen Amts, PA AA), Lissabon 198. 42 Ibid. 43 It should also be recalled that, at that conference, which took place in January 1942, the number of Jews living in Portugal was also reported; at the time, there were 3,000 Jews in Portugal. 44 An alle Missionen in Europa, September 30, 1941, PA AA, Lissabon 198; AA to the German mission in Lisbon, July 25, 1940, PA AA, Lissabon 198. 45 Auswanderung von Juden aus Schweden, July 18, 1942, PA AA, Lissabon 198. 46 Letter to Ges.Rat Dietmar, Lisbon, September 8, 1942, PA AA, Lissabon 198; Auswanderung von Juden über Portugal, September 24, 1942, PA AA, Lissabon 198. 47 “Letter from the President of the Council and Minister of Foreign Affairs to the Minister for Portugal in Berlin (November 30, 1941),” in Dez Anos de Política Externa (1936–1947): A Nação Portuguesa e a Segunda Guerra Mundial, X: 144–150.

Portugal, Salazar, and the Nazi “New Order”  131 48 Der Chef der Sicherheitspolizei und des SD an das Auswärtige Amt Z.Hd. von Herrn Unterstaatssekretär Luther, May 7, 1942, The National Archives, Kew/London (TNA), GFM 33/358, 238297–238300. 49 Notiz für Herrn Gesandten Krümmer, May 13, 1942, TNA, GFM 33/358, 238301. 50 Notiz für Herrn Unterstaatssekretär Luther, May 18, 1942, TNA, GFM 33/358, 238302. 51 Fernando Rosas, Salazar e o poder: A arte de saber durar (Lisbon: Tinta da China, 2012). 52 The term is used by Primo Levi, a survivor of Auschwitz. In his book The Drowned and the Saved, the concept is used to refer to the microcosmos of the Lager. It would seem, however, that this can be appropriated to understand the ambiguous position of Portugal during the war (Primo Levi, Os que Sucumbem e os que se Salvam (Lisbon: Editorial Teorema, 2008)). 53 Regarding the official position of the Portuguese government concerning the Holocaust, see the publication which I  jointly wrote with Irene Pimentel (Ninhos and Pimentel, Salazar, Portugal e o Holocausto). 54 Pimentel, Judeus em Portugal durante a II Guerra Mundial.

Bibliography Archives DGARQ: Directorate-General of Archives (Direcção-Geral de Arquivos), Lisbon. PA AA: Political Archive of the Federal Foreign Office (Politisches Archiv des Auswärtigen Amts), Berlin. TNA: The National Archives, Kew/London.

Books and articles Dez Anos de Política Externa (1936–1947): A  Nação Portuguesa e a Segunda Guerra Mundial. Vol. X. Lisbon: Imprensa Nacional-Casa da Moeda, 1974. Documents on the history of European integration. Series B 1.1, vol. 1: Continental Plans for European Union 1939–1945, edited by Walter Lipgens. Berlin and New York: De Gruyter, 1985. Ferro, António. Entrevistas a Salazar. Lisbon: Parceria A. M. Pereira, 2007. Levi, Primo. Os que Sucumbem e os que se Salvam. Lisbon: Editorial Teorema, 2008. Loff, Manuel. O nosso século é fascista! O mundo visto por Salazar e Franco (1936– 1945). Porto: Campo das Letras Editores, 2008. Louçã, António. Hitler e Salazar: Comércio em tempos de guerra, 1940–1944. Lisbon: Terramar, 2000. Mazower, Mark. Hitler’s Empire: Nazi Rule in Occupied Europe. London: Allen Lane, 2008. Metzner, Leone. Drama Europeu. Lisbon: Cosmos, 1940. Moncada, Luís Cabral de. Memórias: ao longo de uma vida. Lisbon: Verbo, 1992. ———. “A obra de Salazar à luz do sentimento Histórico da sua época.” In Um Grande Português e uma Grande Europeu: Salazar, 9–21. Lisbon: União Nacional, s.a. Ninhos, Cláudia. “Em torno da revista ‘Junges Europa’: A  propaganda, a ideologia e a cultura ao serviço das relações luso-alemãs (1933–1945).” MA diss., Universidade Nova de Lisbon, 2010. Pimentel, Irene, and Cláudia Ninhos. Salazar, Portugal e o Holocausto. Lisbon: Temas e Debates/Círculo de Leitores, 2013.

132  Cláudia Ninhos Pimentel, Irene Flunser. Espiões em Portugal durante a II Guerra Mundial: Como o nosso país se tornou num ponto de passagem de agentes ingleses e alemães. Lisbon: A Esfera dos Livros, 2013. ———. Judeus em Portugal durante a II Guerra Mundial: em fuga de Hitler e do Holocausto. 1st ed. Lisbon: A Esfera dos Livros, 2006. Rodrigues, Luís Nuno. A Legião Portuguesa: a milícia do Estado Novo, 1936–1944. Lisbon: Editorial Estampa, 1996. Ros Agudo, Manuel. A grande tentação: Franco, o Império Colonial e o projecto de intervenção espanhola na Segunda Guerra Mundial. Alfragide: Casa das Letras, 2009. Rosas, Fernando. Salazar e o poder: A arte de saber durar. Lisbon: Tinta da China, 2012. Salazar, António de Oliveira. Discursos e Notas Politicas. Vol. II. Coimbra: Coimbra Editora, 1937. ———. Discursos e Notas Políticas. Vol. III. Coimbra: Coimbra Editora, 1943. ———. Discursos e Notas Políticas. Vol. IV. Coimbra: Coimbra Editora, 1951. Schellenberg, Walter. Confissão do silêncio. Lisbon: Ed. Ulisseia, 1963. Schmitt, Carl. Völkerrechtliche Großraumordnung mit Interventionsverbot für raumfremde Mächte: Ein Beitrag zum Reichsbegriff im Völkerrecht. Berlin, Leipzig and Vienna: Deutscher Rechtsverlag, 1941.

Part II

Science, academia, and culture

7 Controlling agriculture in Greece (1935–1944) Land exploitation, peasant mobilization, and big science Maria Zarifi Geopolitics and Nazi Germany’s foreign policy in Southeastern Europe Germany’s interest in Greece dates back to the nineteenth century, increased throughout the interwar years, and continued undiminished up through the Nazi era. During World War II, Greece, along with other Balkan countries, became a major focus of the Reich’s cultural, political, and economic policies. National Socialist economic planners regarded Southeastern Europe as the “informal empire” of the Third Reich1 that would provide Germany with resources to replace those lost overseas following the First World War. War needs forced the Nazi authorities to look eastwards for raw materials and other resources, including agricultural goods, to make Germany self-sufficient and provide new territories essential to expand its Lebensraum, one of the most dominant notions in Nazi ideology. In 1920, at the first mass gathering in Munich, when Hitler outlined the twenty-five points of the NSDAP program, he spoke of the “land and soil” (Land und Boden) Germany needed for its people’s food self-sufficiency and settlement eastwards, his solution to the country’s alleged overpopulation.2 Having lost its colonies overseas, Germany had to seek new land where it could expand to survive. Bitterness over territories lost after the Great War and the rise of a strong nationalist sentiment were common to all post-war parties in the Weimar Republic. But the Nazi worldview was defined by biological and race-based categories. Hitler believed race was the key to understanding world history. Praising the German race went hand in hand with the völkisch idea, which was the most ominous expression of German nationalism. Catchphrases like “blood and soil,” “population cleansing,” and “resettlement plans” became jingoistic Nazi battle cries to justify their radical strategies to suppress other nations and geopolitical expansion to the east and southeast. German racial superiority, according to the Nazis, entitled them to expand eastward and acquire Lebensraum at the expense of the “racially inferior” Slavs. The term “geopolitics” was coined by Friedrich Ratzel in 1897, who, influenced by Social Darwinism, defined it as a central concept in biological theory, and asserted species migration the most important element of social adaptation.3 During the Nazi era, however, General Karl Haushofer developed the concept of

136  Maria Zarifi geopolitics further to provide a scientific base for his imperialist theories. His ideas strongly influenced the Nazis. Haushofer was a professor of geography at the University of Munich and occasionally taught prominent Nazi figures, including Hitler’s representative, Rudolf Hess, who allegedly introduced him to the Führer. In 1934, Haushofer became president of the German Academy, increasing his influence over this major German cultural-political institution, for which he had been one of the first founders during the mid-1920s. Haushofer’s views on geopolitics combined traditional imperialism with the notion of living space (Lebensraum), and found favor with the National Socialist Weltanschauung. Using geographical criteria, he defined geopolitics as the science of world politics (Weltpolitik), and a doctrine with practical application in foreign policy.4 Geopolitics, political science, and foreign policy were intimately and enduringly intertwined. Geopolitics, argued the Munich professor, was the instrument to achieve Lebensraum. The Lebensraum struggle had two dimensions for Haushofer: one defensive; the other offensive. He defined “defensive” as the employment of tactics and strategies to protect the state from any foreign geopolitical influence; the expansion of Germany’s own power and the reunification of its people scattered abroad he defined as the Reich’s “offensive” struggle for its “living space.”5 The scientific element of Haushofer’s geopolitics could also be traced to what he called “breathing space” (Atemraum), an environmental factor that was essential for the existence of a nation.6 Therefore, foreign policy should secure adequate Lebensraum for the people and, where this “living space became too narrow the state was obliged to expand it.” An adequate Lebensraum was, for Haushofer, the prerequisite for the state’s highest cultural development, independence from foreign powers, and economic self-sufficiency,7 through owning a piece of land that would guarantee the German people autarky, namely a rich fauna and flora for their “feeding freedom” (Nahrungsfreiheit). Geopolitics, to him, involved constant interaction between theory and praxis, knowing and acting, cognizance and performance. Geopolitics, he argued, was a sort of “fusing science” that combined the world of nature with the world of intellect: a synthesis of biology, agriculture, botany, zoology, medicine, sociology, political science, philosophy, and jurisprudence. These disciplines were, for Haushofer, the “main platform” for geopolitics; all others he regarded as mere “supportive sciences” (Hilfswissenschaften). Reigning supreme above all other disciplines, however, was geography.8 Using Haushofer’s views as scientific justification, the Nazis associated Lebensraum with biology and agriculture, even more so with cultural, scientific, and economic imperialism. When the Nazis began to organize their foreign policy, they tried to differentiate themselves from traditional imperialists by introducing a new type of expansion, emphasizing culture. Lebensraum, they argued, was a dynamic notion dependent on the luminous physical and intellectual energy of the German people;9 in other words, German cultural greatness. Kulturpolitik was a euphemism for cultural imperialism; a cover for the economic, political, and military expansion plans of the Reich. Despite Nazi efforts to define Lebensraum as a noble goal, distinct from the aggressive imperialism of France and Britain, it was an identical aim under a slightly different guise.

Controlling agriculture in Greece  137

The importance of agriculture for Germany’s war economy and the policy of food autarky Within this framework, Greece, along with other Balkan states, became a crucial territory to supply Germany with enough agricultural products to fulfill wartime and post-war needs, and to provide the Germans with valuable material for advanced research in agriculture and biology. Two years after the Nazis seized power, Germany became Greece’s largest export market, leaving behind Britain, the other major importer of Greek products, particularly raisins.10 Tobacco and raisins were Greece’s main exports; tobacco alone comprised nearly half of total export revenue, as the German vice-consul noted in Kavala in 1939.11 War preparations gave priority to certain scientific and research fields, not only to those related to technology and armament, but also to agriculture and food autarky. Germany mainly produced carbohydrates and had to import proteins and fat. The lack of these kinds of agricultural products, as well as the lack of food plants resistant to extreme climate conditions, exacerbated the country’s dependence on foreign currency. This agricultural and biological research was considered a national issue and was supported by the German Research Society (Deutsche Forschungsgemeinschaft, DFG) and the German Research Council (Reichsforschungsrat, RFR). Special projects under Nazi agrarian policy included: conserving soil fertility and the use of fertilizers, farming plants rich in fat and proteins, and animal breeding.12 In 1940, the most important foods in the German diet were bread and potatoes. To avoid drops in the potato and cereal harvest caused by virus, frost, or drought,13 which would lead to catastrophic consequences for the German people and army, German scientists promoted research on species resistant to extreme climate conditions and diseases. Additionally, the lack of cattle feed rich in albumin, which impacted human diets, led to research on artificial proteins, including urea and glycine.14 The Kaiser Wilhelm Society played a major role in the Four Year planning, adjusting its projects to war preparations. The Ministry for Nutrition and Agriculture generously sponsored research at several Kaiser Wilhelm Institutes to reduce the imports of food, intermediate goods, and raw materials. The agrarian scientist Konrad Meyer and the state secretary of the Ministry for Nutrition and Agriculture, Herbert Backe, played a key role in research regarding food autarky. Backe was the vice president of the Kaiser Wilhelm Society from 1941 to 1945 and gradually became more influential than the minister, Walther Darré.15 Meyer’s efforts concentrated on plant breeding and the social structure of rural regions. He was one of the co-authors of the Generalplan Ost, according to which tens of millions of civilians in Eastern European territories would have been forced to evacuate large parts of occupied lands earmarked for German settlement, while many others would be killed or deported to concentration camps.16 Scientists at the Kaiser Wilhelm Institute for Breeding Research (Kaiser-Wilhelm-Institut für Züchtungsforschung) in Müncheberg were also engaged in experiments with soya beans, rape seed, turnips, alfalfa, clover, vetch, millet, sunflowers, potatoes, tomatoes, various kinds of fruits, and grapes. The aim of these experiments was to

138  Maria Zarifi make plants – crucial to humans or animals – as hardy as possible against vermin, diseases, aridity, and frost.17 In order to conduct research of this kind, scientists must have at their disposal large quantities of seeds from which to select the right plants for cross-fertilization. Germany sought to control strategically important scientific resources (i.e., genetic resources), which were available only in certain geographical zones, one of which was Eastern and Southeastern Europe, namely the Soviet Union and the Balkans. Expansion to those regions would solve Germany’s Lebensraum problem and provide its people with enough food. The war planning aimed both at the Reich’s military and economic victory primarily over other European countries. In practical terms, this meant a self-sufficient Europe in peacetime, not for meeting the needs of the local population, but those of German people at home and German settlers across the continent.18 With the announcement of the Four Year Plan, the natural sciences, and therefore agricultural research, came to the fore as the instrument that could set the military machine in motion and make it triumph. The expansion of Germany’s living space was difficult to achieve overseas. Modern colonization, the Nazis believed, had to be undertaken eastwards. Southeastern Europe was a valuable economic resource, and an access point to the Mediterranean to facilitate trade with the Near East.19 Agriculture was the main sector of the Greek economy that interested the Reich. The Four Year Plan prioritized German self-sufficiency in food, arms, and currency, leaving little space for large imports of semi-luxury products, such as tobacco or raisins. Even before German troops entered Greek soil, Germany was interested in developing Greek agriculture, particularly fruit, wheat, corn, and other basic products for export to the Reich.20 Germany exported raw material for the production of fertilizers, and also the know-how and technical expertise, on which Greece had depended since the mid-1930s. This expansion “without currency”21 not only to Greece but also to the rest of the Balkans was to become one of Germany’s most effective weapons.

Nazi “New Europe” and the “agricultural mobilization” of Greece In 1941 the Nazis invaded Greece and launched a plan for the “mobilization of the Greek rural population.”22 A year later the country was occupied not only by Germans, but Italians, who invaded the country in 1940, and Bulgarians. The latter had annexed the northern provinces, namely Macedonia and Thrace, which were among the most fertile regions of the country. The loss of fields, along with the reduction in the number of Greek farmers, due to recruitment by the Greek army or participation in the resistance, complicated the Nazis’ plans for food autarky for its army in the region. In addition, the deterioration of food stocks among the local population during the harsh winter of 1941/1942 left tens of thousands of dead, particularly in the urban areas, and forced the Germans to impose drastic measures to cultivate and exploit Greek soil.23 The Nazis wanted to move parts of the Athenian population to the provinces to cultivate the land. This was the beginning of a large-scale plan they referred to as “agricultural mobilization.”24 It seems this

Controlling agriculture in Greece  139 movement never took place.25 Meanwhile, in collaboration with Georgios Tsolakoglou’s government,26 a new law was passed enacting a plan for the complete cultivation of agricultural land. In the future, the owners of the non-cultivated fields were permitted to rent them to the farmers of neighboring villages.27 The plan particularly encouraged rice and soya bean farming, and further plans were made to reorganize Greek fisheries with the help of foreign experts, mostly Germans.28 To “rescue Greece,” the Nazis deemed it necessary to provide economic aid from Axis forces, namely Germany and Italy, and boost the county’s exports to those countries.29 Italy’s role in the Greek economy, however, turned out eventually to be very limited. For that reason, in 1940 the “Südosteuropa-Gesellschaft” (SOEG) inaugurated a department in Vienna dedicated to encouraging economic and commercial relations between the Reich and Greece, and in 1942 Karl von Hervay was sent to Greece to represent and report back to the organization. But whether or not the Germans expanded “without currency,” economic relations could not be successful without the “intellectual weapons” (geistige Waffen),30 in use since the German isolation after the First World War. The SOEG initiated, therefore, a number of cultural activities between the two countries after 1939, organized by the Vienna branch of the German-Greek Society, established a year earlier, in April 1938, just one month after Anschluss.31 These cultural activities included monthly lectures, which largely focused on ancient Greek culture and continued until the end of the war. In the spring of 1944, for example, Professor Hedwig von Kenner gave a lecture entitled “Die Betrachtung der antiken Kunst von Winckelmann bis heute” (Considerations on the Art of Antiquity, from Winckelmann until Today). Professor Georgios Stratigos, the director of the National Gallery of Athens, gave a lecture on modern Greek painting.32 In the same year, Dr. A. Formosis from Thessaloniki was invited to Vienna to speak about irrigation systems in Macedonia, and a prominent professor of theology and church history at Munich University, Franz Dölger, presented the findings of a German excursion to the holy peninsula of Athos in Chalkidiki in northern Greece in 1941.33 The president of the German-Greek Society branch in Vienna was the delegate of Austrian Minister for Commerce Erich Pistor. Its vice presidents were the prominent industrialist Baron Dr. Adolf Bachofen von Echt, and the general director of the Austrian tobacco consortium H. Rueff. Subsequent vice presidents included the university professor of archeology Camillo Praschniker, and the bank manager Leonhard Wolzt. Two diplomats, Konstantin Dumba, of Greek origin,34 and the Greek Antonios A. Saktouris, were named honorary presidents; Themistocles Petrocochinos, Emanuel Prince Ypsilantis, and two university professors – A. Wilhelm and Erich Ziebarth – were named honorary members; the latter was also the president of the German-Greek Society in Hamburg. The Vienna branch was the last of a number of similar branches established in Dresden, Göttingen, Hamburg, Leipzig, and Munich; the central organization was located in Berlin. In Greece, two Greek-German Society branches already existed in Athens and Thessaloniki. The German-Greek Society was in close contact with other institutions in Vienna, including the Office for Agricultural Policy of the regional NSDAP administration

140  Maria Zarifi (Amt für Agrarpolititk der Gauleitung der NSDAP, Vienna) under the management of Dr. Kurt von Rischka. This office was responsible for all the agriculturalpolitical activities in the southeast and recognized as an office of the Reich.35 Rischka later became responsible for the Department of Nutrition and Agriculture under the Südosteuropa Gesellschaft.36 By the end of 1942, Greek industry was literally controlled by the Nazis. The Greek chemical industry, largely represented by the firm “Chemical Products and Fertilisers,” also known as “Oxea” or “Chimika Lipasmata” of the Kanellopoulos family, and closely related to agricultural production, became increasingly dependent on imports of both basic and heavy chemicals, particularly sulfuric acid, from Germany.37 The majority of its shares became German property, which further facilitated Germany’s plans to control agriculture in Greece. At the time, Greece had a number of institutions dedicated to all aspects of agriculture. There were agricultural state schools in Thessaloniki, Athens, Larissa, and Patras; each specialized in the products of the region.38 These cities were considered the “capitals” of the most productive provinces in Greece: Thessaloniki was the trading center of tobacco from northern Greece to Germany; Larissa the productive center of fruit and vegetables in the province of Thessaly in central Greece; and Patras specialized in fruit and vineyards. This port, however, was most important for the trade of raisins, which were produced in the province. At the Agricultural School and the Ministry of Agriculture in Athens, there were several institutions specializing in agriculture, including in particular soil research, plant diseases, the control of the imported seeds, meteorological and statistical research, animal breeding, and animal diseases. The Agricultural School, established in 1920, was the oldest highest educational institution for agriculture. The school was closed from 1937 until 1943, allegedly for political reasons, by the dictator Ioannis Metaxas, who seized power by coup d’état on 4 August 1936, and eventually the school transferred to Thessaloniki.39 Almost all the professors, however, had leftist leanings, and thus distanced themselves from Nazi plans for a new Greek agricultural economy.40 Two other institutes, the semi-private “Benaki” Phytopathology Institute, and the Institute for Chemistry and Agriculture, attached to the “Chimika Lipasmata” of Kanellopoulos, worked towards similar aims. Several smaller institutions were spread across the country: in Drama in the Macedonia province of northern Greece; in Volos in the centraleast of the country; in Heraklion in Crete; and in Pirgos in the Peloponnese.41 The Nazis were familiar with all of these and planned to use them for agricultural exploitation. The most fertile regions of Greece were located in the provinces of eastern Macedonia and Thrace. Although they could produce more food than their population needed, enough to feed the whole country, the reduction of the local population due to war meant that large parts of these regions remained uncultivated. Germany was greatly troubled that these northern provinces were under Bulgarian control, as it threatened its own interests, particularly in the tobacco trade. For example, profits from the export of tobacco were reduced by 67 percent after Bulgaria annexed eastern Macedonia and Thrace.42 Greece’s future was deemed to be

Controlling agriculture in Greece  141 bleak if it continued to be deprived of these territories, leading to its dependence on foreign food aid, as its economy largely depended on agriculture.43 In 1942, the economy of Greece was in very bad condition: the black market set the prices of the goods at will; inflation rose at an enormous rate. To address the catastrophic rate of inflation, the Special Commissioner for Economic and Financial questions in Southeastern Europe (Sonderbeauftragter für Wirtschaftsfragen in Südosteuropa) and former mayor of Vienna, Hermann Neubacher, moved to Athens.44 In agreement with the Italian special commissioner,45 he issued a law restricting the credit limit that the banks were allowed to give to wholesale and retail dealers.46 Sotirios Gotzamanis, the minister of finance in the first collaborating government of Georgios Tsolakoglou, became a broadly empowered minister in the second collaborating government of Konstantinos Logothetopoulos with responsibility for finance and economy, food and agriculture, commerce, industry, and labor, facilitating the complete exploitation of the country. On 28 November  1942 a similar organization, the DEGRIGES (Deutschgriechische Warenausgleichsgesellschaft), was also created for product exchange, established by a decree of the Reich’s Ministry of Finance and a statute of the Greek Ministry of Economy and Finance. Its purpose was to control and improve exports, and consequently, to boost the influx of currency from Germany to Greece.47 The organization was based in Berlin and had branches in Athens, Thessaloniki, Patras, and Volos. The Berlin president of the organization was Otto Braun; the Athens director was the vice president of the German Chamber of Commerce in Athens, Fred Goecker; the Thessaloniki director was the Berlin lawyer, Kurt Zoepke.48 During the occupation, the Germans initiated a number of measures to exploit the country’s agricultural production and plan its potential future. Before the war, in addition to tobacco, sultanas, and currants,49 Greece also produced grapes, figs, citrus fruit, and almonds. According to some commentators, Greece had the potential to become, under certain conditions, “the California of Europe.”50 Since 1942, most of the production had been exported to Germany, and daily direct flights between Athens and Berlin were launched in the summer of 1943.51

The Greek agricultural “capital” for Nazi research and big science Greece’s agrarian economy proved useful to the Third Reich for another reason: scientific research. The country offered ideal material for research on mutation in cultivated plants, then seen as an essential issue for the German food autarky. Research on mutation and polyploidy – a method to process the genome doubling, give rise to organisms with multiple sets of chromosomes, and make plants more resistant to the cold, drought, and other extreme conditions  – was carried out using primitive forms of cultivated plants. The Germans hoped the method of “back-cross breeding” of cultivated plants would reveal the genetic mechanism that makes certain species resistant to extreme circumstances. The discovery of these species provided the strategic key for plant breeders.

142  Maria Zarifi The wild and primitive forms of cultivated plants were of great interest to two Kaiser Wilhelm Institutes: the Institute for Breeding Research in Müncheberg,52 created in 1936; and the Institute for Research on Cultivated Plants in Tuttenhof, near Vienna, created in 1943, and modeled on the institute of the famous Russian geneticist Nikolai I. Vavilov,53 known worldwide for its rich plant collections and his influential theories of plant genetics and plant breeding. Vavilov argued that cultivated plants had “centers of origin,” specific geographical territories in which each species or its wild form existed in enormous varieties. He believed there were seven major “plant pools” around the world. Two of them were located on the American continent; the rest could be found in the area around the Mediterranean (the Balkans and Asia Minor); Southwest Asia (India, Kashmir, Afghanistan, Armenia, Kurdistan); the Caucasus; and eastern China and Ethiopia.54 Expeditions to these territories had been undertaken since 1935, when the first “Hindukusch Expedition” took place under the leadership of Arnold Scheibe, the future director of the German-Bulgarian Institute for Agriculture in Sofia, a Kaiser Wilhelm branch established in 1942. Further expeditions were organized and sponsored by the RFR: to Tibet in 1939, and to the Balkan Peninsula during the course of the war in 1941 and 1942.55 Heinrich Himmler was personally interested in these expeditions and the SS became involved in these activities. The expeditions were also considered military enterprises, supported and accompanied by the German army. Scientists, together with military personnel, became engaged in collecting primitive forms of plants from the occupied territories and regions where access would become more difficult in the near future. The task was complicated by wartime casualties  – including bombardments and resettlements  – that put wild plants at risk. Therefore, the job had to be done as quickly as possible.56 Three major expeditions took place during the war: two in the Balkans, as mentioned before, and the third in the Soviet Union, where a SS unit, which organized the mission in 1943, stripped many Soviet breeding stations of their material, including Vavilov’s precious collections.57 The first Balkan excursion took place in Albania and northern Greece in 1941; the second on the island of Crete and the Peloponnese in 1942. Both excursions were made by order of the High Command of the German Army (Oberkommando der Wehrmacht, OKW), sponsored by the RFR, and led by Hans Stubbe, a well-known plant geneticist, whose research focused on mutations with snapdragons (Antirrhinum) at the Kaiser Wilhelm Institute for Breeding Research in Müncheberg. The Senate of the Society considered Stubbe for the directorial position in the German-Bulgarian Institute for Agricultural Research in 1941.58 The first mission aimed to systematically collect wild species of cultivated plants in Germany, located in the border area between Yugoslavia, Albania, and Greece. In the second expedition, the German specialists sought to find evidence of the origin and creation of cultivated species, that is to say, genetic evolution.59 The expedition to Crete, in addition to Stubbe, included: Otto von Wettstein and Karl Heinz Rechinger of the Museum of Natural History in Vienna; K. Zimmermann from the Kaiser Wilhelm Institute for Brain Research; and Oberleutnant Heinz

Controlling agriculture in Greece  143 Behnke from the Wehrmacht. The Peloponnesian group was comprised of Rudolf Freisleben from the Institute for Plant Research and Plant Breeding in Halle; Werner Rothmaler from the Botanical Museum of Berlin; and the SS-Sturmmann Gunther Niethammer, who represented the Vienna Museum of Natural History. In the Peloponnese, the primary focus was on the conditions for the improvement of crops, while in Crete the aim was to make the island self-sufficient by transforming it into a huge natural laboratory. The objective was not only to collect material for the laboratories in Germany, but ensure the food supply for the Wehrmacht in its operations in Greece, North Africa, and the Middle East.60 Crete was of interest to the Germans for another reason as well: The fauna and flora of the island was rich and mostly unexplored, and the discovery of new species would put Germany ahead of rival cultural nations in plant and animal collections. England’s collection was allegedly thirty years old, and consisted mostly by fossils that had been collected by a scientist named Bates.61 Stubbe highlighted in his report that the expedition could provide the Germans with new material. The English collection would become obsolete then. This would also be of cultural-political importance. Stubbe also reported that the collection of primitive and wild species in Greece was of major importance not only for research on cultivated plants, but also for research on cattle breeding. Traditionally, German-speaking researchers were most interested in the study of Greek fauna. Most German, Austrian, and Swiss natural history museums – including the famous one in Vienna that sent delegates to Greece in a 1942 expedition – had large collections from Greece; French and British museums concentrated on acquisitions from other parts of the world, primarily their colonies.62 Apart from the systematic collection of primitive species of domestic cattle, the zoological investigation in Greece included the geographical mapping of these species to obtain a clearer picture of genetics and evolution in zoology.63 The cooperation between the two disciplines of botany and zoology was necessary to successfully solve fundamental biological problems. Besides the rich material from Crete’s fauna and flora that Stubbe and his group brought back to Germany, he made a detailed report on the island’s agricultural production and its potential future development. Some of the most valuable collections he sent to Germany for experiments at the Kaiser Wilhelm Institute for Biology and its branches included fungi, algae, moss, and live insects, such as drosophila melanogaster.64 The group of scientists on the Peloponnese expedition made contact with Otto Schartau, the local director of the German-Greek Institute for Biology in Piraeus, a Kaiser Wilhelm branch created in 1942, but did not report whether there had been any further collaboration between the institute and Stubbe’s groups.65 On the contrary, the biggest chemical company in the country, “Chimika Lipasmata,” was greatly interested in cooperating with the German scientists and became directly involved in the expedition, sending its best chemist, Konstantinos Nevros, to accompany the German mission.66 Stubbe’s report on the Peloponnese expedition mostly concentrated on the agricultural production of the region and the means for its improvement. The group collected a large variety of domestic plants, including their primitive forms; there is no account of animals collected. Unfortunately,

144  Maria Zarifi part of the plant collection was destroyed soon after its return to Germany, due to “a catastrophe” – as Rothmaler put it – apparently referring to Berlin’s bombardment by the Allies.67 The last expedition in 1944 to the Greek mountain Olympus, the highest massif in the country, became a topic of research for Himmler’s organization SSAhnenerbe. This evidently unsuccessful expedition met with stiff resistance from the local partisans, but had the full support of the Wehrmacht and was planned to last about three months.68 The reason for the excursion is not reported in the available documents. It is very likely, however, that its purpose may have been the collection of primitive forms of plants or indigenous animals as part of the project to “rescue,” as the Nazis argued, the natural treasures of the world’s reservoir zones.69 After the failure of the Olympus expedition, the same project was planned for the Pyrenees in Spain.70 The Kaiser Wilhelm Institute of Biology in Berlin, directed by Fritz von Wettstein since 1934, was also involved in mutation research. Wettstein envisioned his institute at the center of a network of plant-collecting stations ranging “from the polar sea to the Mediterranean, from the Atlantic to the extreme continental region, from the seacoast to the Alps zone.”71 The existing institutes had been established by the Kaiser Wilhelm Society in Germany; the others planned in the Balkan region – Bulgaria, Greece, Hungary, and Spain – would make up the continental network. Wettstein described it as an “observing network across the Mediterranean,” moreover as a “biological penetration in the Mediterranean,” which would guarantee German control over the botanical genetic resources of the continent.72 The global network announced by Wettstein had to be created during the war at any cost, because the wild forms of cultivated plants were in danger in such an unstable territory. It is clear that the botanical expeditions in the Balkans went beyond the aims of pure scientific research and the collection of indigenous plants and animals. It is no coincidence that both of them took place during the war when the need for supplies for the German army had increased. If the rationale of the Four Year Plan was to make Germany self-sufficient in raw materials and independent from foreign currency to prepare the Reich for war, Germany should continue to achieve self-sufficiency while the country was at war. The development of new plant and animal species at German labs with material from the Balkans, the reorganization of agriculture and cattle breeding in Greece, and the use of chemicals for fighting vermin and fertilizers for accelerating crops in Crete and the Peloponnese should also be seen in the context of the policy for autarky, which went hand in hand with the concept of Lebensraum. In a lecture on planning and reconstruction of the occupied eastern territories, delivered in 1942, the eminent botanist Konrad Meyer, then a professor at Berlin University, emphasized the fundamental importance of Lebensraum to Germany’s future.73 Botanists and geneticists at Kaiser Wilhelm Institutes likewise emphasized the importance of their mutation research, particularly on polyploidy, for the fast breeding of new crop strains. Botanical expeditions to the Soviet Union and Southeastern Europe for the collection of primitive forms of plants that could

Controlling agriculture in Greece  145 be cultivated in Germany were therefore essential and were funded to further the political agenda of expanding German living space. In addition, scientists at the Kaiser Wilhelm Institute for Biology argued to establish research institutes of practical importance beyond Germany’s borders that would promote research in botany and genetics. These institutes would help them seek the best techniques for transplanting commercially viable species, and, by extension, transform agriculture in territories that were planned for future conquest. Thus, during wartime, the Kaiser Wilhelm Society established in 1941 the German-Bulgarian Institute for Agriculture in Sofia, and the German-Greek Institute for Biology in Piraeus. The botanical expeditions in the Balkans and Greece, in particular, aimed to achieve self-sufficiency in Germany while the country was at war, but also invest in the future food self-sufficiency by conducting pure scientific research and collecting indigenous plants and animals. At the same time this undertaking would contribute to Germany’s scientific prestige and acknowledgement of its cultural greatness by its rivals, and hence its dominance in botany and neighboring disciplines. The Balkan peninsula, and consequently Greece, was regarded by the Nazis as the region to exercise Großraumpolitik and apply Europe’s New Order. Science was enlisted in this purpose. Agriculture, in particular, was essential to achieve food autarky, and a number of German scientists worked within the Four Year Plan directives, trying, with limited success, to obtain the cooperation of their Greek colleagues. The Nazis regarded Greece as their future economic territory, where they could impose the New Order of exploitation, often under a scientific, or culturalpolitical guise. Their eagerness to make scientific excursions and establish new – or control old – agricultural and economic institutions in Greece, was closely related to their political and military plans, which proved to be of unspeakable brutality – ultimately, their sole contribution to the concept of “New Europe.”

Notes 1 On this term see: Klaus Thoerner, “Der ganze Südosten ist unser Hinterland:” Deutsche Südosteuropapläne von 1840–1945 (Freiburg: ça ira, 2008), 447 et seqq. 2 Wolfgang Wippermann, s.v. “Ideologie,” in Enzyklopädie des Nationalsozialismus, ed. Wolfgang Benz, Hermann Graml, and Hermann Weiß (Munich: dtv, 1997). 3 Kristie Macrakis, “The Ideological Origins of Institutes at the Kaiser Wilhelm Gesell­ schaft in National Socialist Germany,” in Science, Technology and National Socialism, ed. Monika Renneberg and Mark Walker (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994), 143. 4 Hans-Adolf Jacobsen, “Auswärtige Kulturpolitik als ‘geistige Waffe’: Karl Haushofer und die Deutsche Akademie (1923–1927),” in Deutsche Auswärtige Kulturpolitik seit 1871: Geschichte und Struktur, ed. Kurt Düwell and Werner Link (Cologne: Böhlau, 1981), 221. 5 Ibid. 6 Ibid., 225. 7 See also: Hans Hiss, “Autarkie und Weltwirtschaft,” Zeitschrift für Geopolitik V, no. 4 (1928): 302–306. Karl Haushofer was the founder and editor of this journal, launched in 1924, and he reported regularly on the Indo-Pacific territory. 8 Jacobsen, “Auswärtige Kulturpolitik,” 219, 260.

146  Maria Zarifi 9 Hillen A. Ziegfeld, “Deutscher Lebensraum,” in Deutscher Geist: Kulturdokumente der Gegenwart 2 (1935): 69–70, 72. 10 Mogens Pelt, Tobacco, Arms and Politics: Greece and Germany from World Crisis to World War 1929–1941 (Copenhagen: Museum Tusculanum Press, 1998), 51. 11 Kavala was one of two major tobacco trading ports in northern Greece. Pelt, Tobacco, Arms and Politics, 52. See also: Petros Pizanias, Οικονομική ιστορία της ελληνικής σταφίδας 1851–1912 (Athens: Ίδρυμα Έρευνας και Παιδείας της Εμπορικής Τράπεζας, 1988), 48–49; Evi Karouzou, “Ο εθνικισμός των αγρών: Αγρότες, αγροτικά προϊόντα και εθνικισμός στο μεσοπόλεμο,” in Η ελληνική αγροτική κοινωνία και οικονομία κατά τη βενιζελική περίοδο, ed. Dimitris Panagiotopoulos and Dimitris Sotiropoulos (Athens: Ελληνικά Γράμματα, 2007), 221 et seqq. 12 Walter Wüst, Vortrag, November 3, 1940, Federal Archives Berlin (Bundesarchiv Berlin, BArch Berlin), NS 21/281, Deutsche Forschungsgemeinschaft A/63/1. 13 This had happened in 1846/1847 in Ireland, when the virus Phytophthora, a water mold (oomycote) species, caused the Great Potato Famine, killing nearly a million people. The water mold virtually wiped out the country’s potato crops, which were an essential staple in the Irish diet. See: Cecil Woodham-Smith, The Great Hunger: Ireland, 1845–1849, 2nd ed. (London: Penguin Books, 1992); John Kelly, The Graves Are Walking: The Great Famine and the Saga of the Irish People (New York: Hentry Holt and Co., 2012). 14 Walter Wüst, Vortrag, November  3, 1940, BArch Berlin, NS 21/281, Deutsche Forschungsgemeinschaft A/63/1. 15 Susanne Heim, Kalorien, Kautschuk, Karrieren: Pflanzenzüchtung und landwirtschaftliche Forschung in Kaiser-Wilhelm-Instituten 1933–1945 (Göttingen: Wallstein, 2003), 23–33; Susanne Heim, “Forschung für die Autarkie: Agrarwissenschaft an Kaiser-Wilhelm-Instituten im Nationalsozialismus,” in Autarkie und Ostexpansion: Pflanzenzucht und Agrarforschung im Nationalsozialismus, ed. Susanne Heim (Göttingen: Wallstein, 2002), 146 et seqq. 16 See: Mechtild Rössler and Sabine Schleiermacher, eds., Der “Generalplan Ost”: Hauptlinien der nationalsozialistischen Planungs- und Vernichtungspolitik (Berlin: Akademie-Verlag, 1993). 17 Heim, “Forschung für die Autarkie,” 149 et seqq. 18 Wolfgang Schumann, ed., Griff nach Südosteuropa: Neue Dokumente über die Politik des deutschen Imperialismus und Militarismus gegenüber Südosteuropa im Zweiten Weltkrieg (Berlin: Deutscher Verlag der Wissenschaften), 89 et seqq. and 182–183. Compare the documents Nr. 13 and Nr. 83: “Aus dem Vortrag von Tilo Freiherr von Wilmowsky, Präsident des Mitteleuropäischen Wirtschafstages, 02.09.1940” and “Aus dem Schreiben von Rudolf Kratz an August Heinrichsbauer, 04.06.1942.” T.F. v. Wilmowsky and Kratz argue that the development of agriculture in Southeastern Europe would be for the benefit of the local population. 19 Manfred Lanhans-Ratzeburg, “Die geopolitischen Reibungsgürtel der Erde,” Zeitschrift für Geopolitik VI, no. 2 (1929): 162. 20 N.F. Aussenhandel. Griechenland  – Richtlinien zur Förderung der Landwirtschaft, May 21, 1940, BArch Berlin, R 4902/2096. 21 Cited in: Pelt, Tobacco, Arms and Politics, 158. 22 “Mobilmachung des griechischen Bauern. Strenge Vorschriften für die Nutzung des Bodens. Deutsch-italienische Hilfe. Eigener Auslandsdienst der Münchner Neuesten Nachrichten,” Münchner Neueste Nachrichten, July  07, 1942. Legislative decree 1185, Περί συμπληρώσεως της νομοθεσίας “περί οργανώσεως της πολιτικής και οικονομικής επιστρατεύσεως της Χώρας” (Official Gazette of the Greek Government, FΕΚ A 76/09.04.1942). Legislative decree 1317, Περί λήψεως εκτάκτων μέτρων προωθήσεως της γεωργικής παραγωγής (Official Gazette of the Greek Government, FΕΚ A 118/12.05.1942).

Controlling agriculture in Greece  147 23 Legislative decree 1317, Περί λήψεως εκτάκτων μέτρων προωθήσεως της γεωργικής παραγωγής (Official Gazette of the Greek Government, FΕΚ A 118/12.05.1942). See also Hagen Fleischer, Στέμμα και Σβάστικα: Η Ελλάδα της Κατοχής και της Αντίστασης 1941–1944, Τόμος Α’ (Athens: Papazisis, 1988), 193–216. 24 “Mobilmachung des griechischen Bauern,” Münchner Neueste Nachrichten. 25 No such law or decree was ever issued according to the Official Gazette of the Greek Government, where all laws and decrees are published. 26 During the German occupation of Greece, three collaborative governments were formed by the Nazi regime: from 8 May 1941 until November 1942, the prime minister was Georgios Tsolakoglou. Konstantinos Logothetopoulos served in the same post until 6 April 1943, followed by Ioannis Rallis until the end of the war. The Greek government including Prime Minister Emmanuel Tsouderos went into exile on 21 April 1941: first, to the island of Crete, soon after to Alexandria in Egypt, and finally, London. 27 “Mobilmachung des griechischen Bauern,” Münchner Neueste Nachrichten. Legislative decree 1317, Περί λήψεως εκτάκτων μέτρων προωθήσεως της γεωργικής παραγωγής (Official Gazette of the Greek Government, FEK A 118/12.05.1942). 28 “Mobilmachung des griechischen Bauern,” Münchner Neueste Nachrichten. Before the war, Greece imported the majority of its salted and smoked fish from Turkey. See also: Report of Dr. von Rischka, director of the Food and Agriculture Department of the Südosteuropa Gesellschaft (SOEG), (Geschäftsbericht zur zweiten Tagung des Beirats der Gruppe ‘Ernährung und Landwirtschaft’ der Südosteuropa-Gesellschaft) to the Central Office of the SOEG, November 30 to December 1, 1942, BArch Berlin, R 63/262. 29 “Mobilmachung des griechischen Bauern,” Münchner Neueste Nachrichten. 30 R. Bornemann, “Bildungswesen, Kultur und auswärtige nationale Politik,” Das Zentrum: Monatsschrift für politische Bildung 15, no. 4 (1923): 57. 31 Ingo von Münch, ed., Gesetze des NS-Staates (Paderborn: Schöningh, 1994), 50–51, see: “Gesetz über die Wiedervereinigung Österreichs mit dem Deutschen Reich vom 13.3.1938.” 32 Mitteilungen für die Mitglieder, April and May 1944, BArch Berlin, R 63/37. 33 Ibid., beginning of July 1944, BArch Berlin, R 63/37. 34 William D. Godsey Jr., Aristocratic redoubt: The Austro-Hungarian Foreign Office on the eve of the First World War (West Lafayette, IN: Purdue University Press, 1999), 241, n. 58. 35 Dr. Rischka to Südosteuropa-Gesellschaft, Min. Rat Dr. Augenthaler March 28, 1944, BArch Berlin, R 63/253. 36 Dietrich Orlow, The Nazis in the Balkans: A Case Study of Totalitarian Politics (Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Press, 1968), 47 et seqq. 37 Report “Die Chemiewirtschaft Griechenlands und wichtige Unternehmen der chemischen Industrie,” Nov. 1940, BArch Berlin, R 8128/A 421; Pelt, Tobacco, Arms and Politics, 54–55. “Lipasmata” was founded in 1909 by Nikolaos Kanellopoulos and Leonteios Oikonomidis and focused on agricultural chemistry. Throughout this period, the owners of the company were Epaminontas Charilaos and Aggelos Kanellopoulos. The latter was the brother of the founder. 38 Dimitris Panagiotopoulos, Γεωργική Εκπαίδευση και Ανάπτυξη: Η Ανώτατη Γεωπονική Σχολή Αθηνών στην ελληνική κοινωνία 1920–1960 (Athens: Ελληνικά Γράμματα, 2004), 40–51. 39 Panagiotopoulos, Γεωργική Εκπαίδευση και Ανάπτυξη, 167 et seqq. 40 Ibid., 167–174. 41 See: Karl von Hervay’s report to SOEG, March 17, 1942, BArch Berlin, R 63/106. 42 Karl von Hervay’s report to SOEG, March 19, 1944, BArch Berlin, R 63/106. 43 Ibid. 44 Fleischer, Στέμμα και Σβάστικα, 327 et seqq.

148  Maria Zarifi 45 Italy controlled parts of Greece at that time. 46 Karl von Hervay’s report to SOEG, September 28, 1942, BArch Berlin, R 63/106. 47 Fleischer, Στέμμα και Σβάστικα, 331 et seqq.; Schumann, Griff nach Süosteuropa, 61–62; Mark Mazower, Στην Ελλάδα του Χίτλερ: Η εμπειρία της Κατοχής, trans. Kostas Kouremenos (Athens: Εκδ. Αλεξάνδρεια, 1994), 95 et seqq. See also: Götz Aly and Susanne Heim, Vordenker der Vernichtung: Auschwitz und die deutschen Pläne für eine neue europäische Ordnung (Hamburg: Hoffmann und Campe, 1991), 43. 48 Bericht über Stadtlers Griechenlandsreise in dieser Zeit, 27.03.1944–21.04.1944, sheet Nr. 154, BArch Berlin, R 63/253. 49 The country produced one-third of the world production in currants at the time, see document: Zweite Tagung der Gruppe “Ernährung und Landwirtschaft” der SOEG, November 30 – December 1, 1942, Pressecommunique, BArch Berlin R 63/28. 50 Fred Goecker (Deutsche Handelskammer in Griechenland) to Heinrichsbauer (Südosteuropa-Gesellschaft, Vienna), January 25, 1944, BArch Berlin R 63/114. 51 See: Merkblatt für Griechenland, August  1943, ed. Deutsche Handelskammer in Griechenland, Athen, BArch Berlin, R 63/114. 52 File: Hoffmann Walter, Kaiser-Wilhelm-Institut für Züchtungsforschung Müncheberg/ Mark, “Durchführung einer Expedition in d. zentrale Gebirgsmassiv d. Balkans zur Sammlung von Wildformen unserer Kulturpflanzen 1936–1941,” BArch Berlin, R 73/11757. See also: Archives of the Max Planck Society, Berlin (Archiv der MaxPlanck-Gesellschaft, AMPG), Apt. I. Rep. 1A, Nr. 2963/3, 4. The Institute was created by Erwin Baur in 1927. 53 Ute Deichmann, Biologen unter Hitler: Porträt einer Wissenschaft im NS-Staat (Frankfurt am Main: Fischer Taschenbuch Verlag, 1995), 152. 54 Heim, “Forschung für die Autarkie,” 156, also n. 39. 55 See: AMPG, Abt. I, Rep. 1A, Nr. 2963, 2964. 56 Heim, “Forschung für die Autarkie,” 160. 57 See: Uwe Hossfeld and Carl-Gustaf Thornström, “ ‘Rasches Zupacken’: Heinz Brücher und das botanische Sammelkommando der SS nach Russland 1943,” in Autarkie und Ostexpansion: Pflanzenzucht und Agrarforschung im Nationalsozialismus, ed. Susanne Heim (Göttingen: Wallstein, 2002), 119 et seqq. 58 Heim, Kalorien, Kautschuk, Karrieren, 78. 59 Stubbe’s report “Bericht über die im Auftrage des OKW und des Reichsforschungsrates durchgeführte zweite Biologische Forschungsreise nach Peloponnes und nach Kreta 1942,” AMPG, Abt. I, Rep. 1A, Nr. 2964/1. 60 Ibid. 61 Ibid. No other indication is given with regard to the profile of this scientist. 62 Anastasios Legakis, “Recent Trends in the Study of the Greek Fauna,” Biologia GalloHellenica 10 (1985): 18. I am thankful to Prof. Legakis for drawing my attention to this reference. 63 Stubbe’s report “Bericht . . . 1942.” 64 Ibid. 65 Maria Zarifi, Science, Culture and Politics: Germany’s Cultural Policy and Scientific Relations with Greece 1933–1945 (Saarbrücken: VDM, 2010), 283–339; for an earlier version in German see: Maria Zarifi, “Das deutsch-griechische Forschungsinstitut für Biologie in Piraeus, 1942–1944,” in Autarkie und Ostexpansion: Pflanzenzucht und Agrarforschung im Nationalsozialismus, ed. Susanne Heim (Göttingen: Wallstein, 2002), 206–232. 66 Stubbe’s report “Bericht . . . 1942.” 67 Werner Rothmaler, “Floristische Ergebnisse einer Reise nach dem Peloponnes: Ergebnisse einer biologischen Forschungsreise nach dem Peloponnes und nach Kreta 1942 im Auftrag des Oberkommandos der Wehrmacht und des Reichsforschungsrates; X. Mitteilung,” Botanische Jahrbücher 73, no. 4 (1944): 418. I am grateful to Prof. Hagen Fleischer for this source.

Controlling agriculture in Greece  149 68 Deutsche Forschungsgemeinschaft, Auslandsabteilung (Adams) to Reichsführer-SS Pers. Stab. Amt “A” Lehr- und Forschungsstatte für Innerasien und Expeditionen, March 2, 1944, BArch Berlin, NS 21/330. 69 Susanne Heim, “Forschung für die Autarkie,” 161. 70 SS-Sturmbahnführer an DFG, Auslandsabteilung z.H. von Herrn Dr. Adams, March 13, 1944, BArch Berlin, NS 21/330. 71 Cited in: Heim, “Forschung für die Autarkie,” 159; see also: Deichmann, Biologen unter Hitler, 152 et seqq. and 182–181. 72 Fritz von Wettstein to the General Secretary of the KWG, Ernst Telschow, January 4, 1941, AMPG, Abt. I, Rep. 14, Nr. 1. 73 Ute Deichmann and Benno Müller-Hill, “Biological Research at Universities and Kaiser Wilhelm Institutes in Nazi Germany,” in Science, Technology and National Socialism, ed. Monika Renneberg and Mark Walker (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994), 176.

Bibliography Archives AMPG: Archives of the Max Planck Society (Archiv der Max-Planck-Gesellschaft), Berlin. BArch Berlin: Federal Archives Berlin (Bundesarchiv Berlin), Berlin. FEK: Official Gazette of the Greek Government (Εφημερίς της Κυβερνήσεως της Ελλάδος).

Books and articles Aly, Götz, and Susanne Heim. Vordenker der Vernichtung: Auschwitz und die deutschen Pläne für eine neue europäische Ordnung. Hamburg: Hoffmann und Campe, 1991. Bornemann, R. “Bildungswesen, Kultur und auswärtige nationale Politik.” Das Zentrum: Monatsschrift für politische Bildung 15, no. 4 (April 1923): 57–60. Deichmann, Ute. Biologen unter Hitler: Porträt einer Wissenschaft im NS-Staat. Frankfurt am Main: Fischer Taschenbuch Verlag, 1995. Deichmann, Ute, and Benno Müller-Hill. “Biological Research at Universities and Kaiser Wilhelm Institutes in Nazi Germany.” In Science, Technology and National Socialism, edited by Monika Renneberg and Mark Walker, 160–183. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994. Fleischer, Hagen. Στέμμα και Σβάστικα: Η Ελλάδα της Κατοχής και της Αντίστασης 1941– 1944 – Τόμος Α’. Athens: Papazisis, 1988. Godsey, William D. Aristocratic Redoubt: The Austro-Hungarian Foreign Office on the eve of the First World War. West Lafayette: Purdue University Press, 1999. Heim, Susanne. Kalorien, Kautschuk, Karrieren: Pflanzenzüchtung und landwirtschaftliche Forschung in Kaiser-Wilhelm-Instituten 1933–1945. Göttingen: Wallstein, 2003. ———. “Forschung für die Autarkie: Agrarwissenschaft an Kaiser-Wilhelm-Instituten im Nationalsozialismus.” In Autarkie und Ostexpansion: Pflanzenzucht und Agrarforschung im Nationalsozialismus, edited by Susanne Heim, 145–177. Göttingen: Wallstein, 2002. Hiss, Hans. “Autarkie und Weltwirtschaft.” Zeitschrift für Geopolitik V, no. 4 (1928): 302–306. Hossfeld, Uwe, and Carl-Gustaf Thornström. “ ‘Rasches Zupacken’: Heinz Brücher und das botanische Sammelkommando der SS nach Russland 1943.” In Autarkie und

150  Maria Zarifi Ostexpansion: Pflanzenzucht und Agrarforschung im Nationalsozialismus, edited by Susanne Heim, 119–144. Göttingen: Wallstein, 2002. Jacobsen, Hans-Adolf. “Auswärtige Kulturpolitik als ‘geistige Waffe’: Karl Haushofer und die Deutsche Akademie (1923–1927).” In Deutsche Auswärtige Kulturpolitik seit 1871: Geschichte und Struktur, edited by Kurt Düwell and Werner Link, 218–261. Cologne: Böhlau, 1981. Karouzou, Evi. “Ο εθνικισμός των αγρών: Αγρότες, αγροτικά προϊόντα και εθνικισμός στο μεσοπόλεμο.” In Η ελληνική αγροτική κοινωνία και οικονομία κατά τη βενιζελική περίοδο, edited by Dimitris Panagiotopoulos and Dimitris Sotiropoulos, 211–229. Athens: Ελληνικά Γράμματα, 2007. Kelly, John. The Graves Are Walking: The Great Famine and the Saga of the Irish People. New York: Hentry Holt and Co., 2012. Lanhans-Ratzeburg, Manfred. “Die geopolitischen Reibungsgürtel der Erde.” Zeitschrift für Geopolitik, VI, no. 2 (1929): 158–167. Legakis, Anastasios. “Recent Trends in the Study of the Greek Fauna.” Biologia GalloHellenica 10 (1985): 17–20. Macrakis, Kristie. “The Ideological Origins of Institutes at the Kaiser Wilhelm Gesell­ schaft in National Socialist Germany.” In Science, Technology and National Socialism, edited by Monika Renneberg and Mark Walker, 139–159. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994. Mazower, Mark. Στην Ελλάδα του Χίτλερ: Η εμπειρία της Κατοχής. Translated by Kostas Kouremenos. Athens: Εκδ. Αλεξάνδρεια, 1994. Orlow, Dietrich. The Nazis in the Balkans: A  Case Study of Totalitarian Politics. Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Press, 1968. Panagiotopoulos, Dimitris. Γεωργική Εκπαίδευση και Ανάπτυξη: Η Ανώτατη Γεωπονική Σχολή Αθηνών στην ελληνική κοινωνία 1920–1960. Athens: Ελληνικά Γράμματα, 2004. Pelt, Mogens. Tobacco, Arms and Politics: Greece and Germany From World Crisis to World War 1929–1941. Copenhagen: Museum Tusculanum Press, 1998. Pizanias, Petros. Οικονομική ιστορία της ελληνικής σταφίδας 1851–1912. Athens: Ίδρυμα Έρευνας και Παιδείας της Εμπορικής Τράπεζας, 1988. Rössler, Mechtild, and Sabine Schleiermacher, eds. Der “Generalplan Ost”: Hauptli­ nien der nationalsozialistischen Planungs- und Vernichtungspolitik. Berlin: AkademieVerlag, 1993. Rothmaler, Werner. “Floristische Ergebnisse einer Reise nach dem Peloponnes: Ergebnisse einer biologischen Forschungsreise nach dem Peloponnes und nach Kreta 1942 im Auftrag des Oberkommandos der Wehrmacht und des Reichsforschungsrates; X. Mitteilung.” Botanische Jahrbücher 73, no. 4 (1944): 418–452. Schumann, Wolfgang, ed. Griff nach Süosteuropa: Neue Dokumente über die Politik des deutschen Imperialismus und Militarismus gegenüber Südosteuropa im Zweiten Weltkrieg. Berlin: Deutscher Verlag der Wissenschaften 1973. Thoerner, Klaus. “Der ganze Südosten ist unser Hinterland”: Deutsche Südosteuropapläne von 1840–1945. Freiburg: Ça ira, 2008. Von Münch, Ingo, ed. Gesetze des NS-Staates. Paderborn: Schöningh, 1994. Wippermann, Wolfgang. “Ideologie.” In Enzyklopädie des Nationalsozialismus, edited by Wolfgang Benz, Hermann Graml, and Hermann Weiß. Munich: dtv, 1997. Woodham-Smith, Cecil. The Great Hunger: Ireland, 1845–1849. 2nd ed. London: Penguin Books, 1992. Zarifi, Maria. Science, Culture and Politics: Germany’s Cultural Policy and Scientific Relations With Greece 1933–1945. Saarbrücken: VDM, 2010.

Controlling agriculture in Greece  151 ———. “Das deutsch-griechische Forschungsinstitut für Biologie in Piraeus, 1942–1944.” In Autarkie und Ostexpansion: Pflanzenzucht und Agrarforschung im Nationalsozialismus, edited by Susanne Heim, 206–232. Göttingen: Wallstein, 2002. Ziegfeld, Hillen A. “Deutscher Lebensraum.” In Deutscher Geist: Kulturdokumente der Gegenwart 2 (1935): 63–73.

8 “Population pressure” and development models for Southeastern Europe Interactions between German and Southeastern European economists, 1930–1945 Ian Innerhofer Introduction In their economic analysis of Southeastern Europe in the years before and during the Second World War, both German and Southeastern European economists relied on the internationally well-established concept of “overpopulation” to explain the economic backwardness of the region. In their view, the “population pressure” on the land would determine the direction of future economic development in many regions of the world, including the agrarian states of Southeastern Europe.1 While several studies on the “agrarian overpopulation” of Southeastern Europe were published during this period in English, this chapter will confine itself to addressing the discussion that took place between German and Southeastern European researchers.2 After first engaging in a historiographical critique of the overpopulation concept, this chapter describes how the concept was elevated to become the key explanatory model for understanding Southeastern Europe’s economic and demographic situation. The chapter then investigates where and how the discussion on “agrarian overpopulation” took place, and provides information on how research was influenced by personal networks and the international sharing of knowledge. The subsequent section deepens the analysis on contacts between German and Southeastern European scholars around the question of “population pressure” in Southeastern Europe, and sheds light on the respective debates. Opinions diverged primarily with concern to the development paths the agrarian states of Southeastern Europe should take to solve their “overpopulation” problems. How did the nationalities, educational backgrounds, and research ties of scholars influence their views on the “population pressure” faced by Southeastern Europe? Lastly, the chapter discusses how völkisch thought impacted the debate, highlighting racist and geopolitical influences and how the overpopulation concept informed the resettlement plans formulated for Southeastern Europe during the Second World War.

“Population pressure” and development models  153

“Population pressure” and “overpopulation” in retrospect Since the publication of Robert Malthus’s An Essay on the Principle of Population in 1798, experts have tended to pose population questions dramatically and with a grave sense of urgency. However, “overpopulation” and related terms such as “hidden unemployment” have often been used in a tendentious manner that is guided by ideological and political interests.3 The concept of overpopulation dovetails well with widely shared ideas about economics; indeed, it has been internalized as a concept by society at large.4 The validity of the term “overpopulation” as an explanatory tool has been questioned due to its highly subjective nature.5 Indeed, “overpopulation” is not an objective fact that can be determined reliably, but rather an arbitrary definition. The notion of “overpopulation” hinges crucially on how one determines the “optimum population,” and no one definition or set of metrics is accepted in this regard.6 In this way, the term “overpopulation” actually serves as a tool for interrelating economic and social conditions. Furthermore, its scientific interpretation is at least partially mediated by specific economic, political, and ideological interests. Ultimately, a wide range of political and economic problems have been redefined as “population problems.”7 Josef Ehmer saw the success of the overpopulation concept in its normative character, since it did not serve to shed light on the actual socioeconomic state of things, but rather to communicate a vision of how society and the economy should be shaped. The concept achieved widespread popularity thanks to its simplicity. In both popular and scientific discourse, demographic arguments are attractive because they simplify complex situations, positing a single but seemingly plausible cause.8 With a view to economic research, the notion of overpopulation was extremely useful because it elided over messy empirical reality, allowing researchers to overlook the complex array of problems facing Southeastern Europe, including lack of capital and skilled workers, weak industries, extensive land use, endemic poverty, and land fragmentation.9 For Thomas Etzemüller, Malthus’s Essay already contained the key elements that structured population discourse from the end of the nineteenth century onward, including: the urgent and catastrophic character of the problem; the differential examination of fertility (i.e., the lower classes have too many children); the claim of invisible processes that are only amenable to expert examination; the relation between population, resources, and space as a measure of “overpopulation”; and the highly selective application of this measure (“empty spaces” could also be “overpopulated” proportionally).10 Among other things, the divergent application of “overpopulation” as an explanatory tool demonstrates why, in the period after the First World War, two seemingly contradictory views of the population problem were dominant in Germany at the same time: On the one hand, Germany was viewed as “overpopulated” (i.e., as a “Volk ohne Raum”)11 and, on the other hand, the German ‘‘people’’ was said to be experiencing decline due to fertility rates (i.e., as a “Volk ohne Jugend”).12 Obviously, the majority of researchers in Germany saw no problems

154  Ian Innerhofer with integrating both approaches in their studies. The same seemingly contradictory views existed for Southeastern Europe, as well, for this region was seen as scarcely populated and “overpopulated” at the same time, depending on the aim of the specific analysis. If one wanted to portray Southeastern Europe as a target for colonization by an “overpopulated” Germany, then the low absolute population density in comparison to Western Europe was taken into consideration.13 By contrast, when the menace of “population pressure” or the low productivity of agriculture had to be stressed, the region’s comparable high birth rates were emphasized.14

The concept of agrarian overpopulation and its application to Southeastern Europe Building on the traditional discourse on “overpopulation” posited by Malthus at the end of the eighteenth century, Russian economists had been arguing about the “agrarian overpopulation” of their country since the end of the nineteenth century. Influenced by this debate as well as by the theory of “optimum population,” which was widely discussed during the interwar period,15 German authors began in the 1930s to address economic problems in Eastern Europe from a demographic perspective. On the basis of productivity and land utilization norms, experts calculated the size of the excess workforce in the agricultural sector. To them, the problem of “population pressure” was clear: too many people  – nearly 80  percent of the active population – made their living in agriculture, predominantly in subsistence farming. Yet agricultural output was very low compared to Western, Northern, and Central Europe. Given the low level of industrialization, the children of farmers stayed on the land, but their work was not needed for agricultural production. In the eyes of the experts, they were only consuming, thus leaving fewer products for the domestic market and for export. “Agrarian overpopulation” thus became a common term in science from the 1930s onward to explain the economic backwardness of Southeastern Europe.16 The Great Depression supported the widespread adoption of the notion of “agrarian overpopulation” in Eastern and Southeastern Europe, which, among other things, is evidence of how “population problems” gain prominence in times of crisis. “Agrarian overpopulation” or “population pressure” was said to be the region’s key socioeconomic problem. Between 1938 and 1945, there was hardly a single analysis of the economic or social structure of the Southeastern European states that did not apply this concept.17 In a paper published in 1930 in the Reports for Agriculture (Berichte für Landwirtschaft), the economist and settlement scientist Hans-Jürgen Seraphim18 defined “agricultural overpopulation” as a state, for which a row of symptoms are characteristic, that has to be mentioned as the indirect or direct consequence of a disproportion between the agricultural population and the food access and purchasing means at its disposition, caused by a strong increase of the population component.19

“Population pressure” and development models  155 In other words, there were more people allotted to arable land than could rationally find employment and be nourished there.20 Seraphim’s definition received a warm reception in academic circles and was adopted by other researchers in Germany and Southeastern Europe. In fact, Southeastern Europe was far less populated in the interwar period than Western Europe, but the birth rate had remained at a comparatively higher level. Among other things, research interest in “agrarian overpopulation” rested upon Germany’s strategic and economic aims, since Germany had concrete plans to dominate the region. German leaders envisaged the establishment of a greater economic area (Großwirtschaftsraum), a zone of influence large enough to ensure the provision of food and raw materials inside a united economic block. The Southeastern European countries would have to adjust their production structures to the needs of the “Reich,” and would need to supply goods and resources in a complementary economic manner (ergänzungs­ wirtschaftlich). Simultaneously, Southeastern Europe was to serve as an outlet for industrial exports emanating from Germany. The independent development of the Balkan states would be forestalled in favor of a hierarchically stratified division of labor.21

The scientific community and knowledge transfer One central figure in the debate on the “agrarian overpopulation” of Southeastern Europe was Croatian agronomist Otto Frangeš (1870–1945). He received his diploma from the Hochschule für Bodenkultur in Vienna and continued his studies in Leipzig under Wilhelm Roscher and Lujo Brentano. In 1921, he became a professor in the forestry faculty of Zagreb University. In the first government of Alexander’s royal dictatorship of January 1929, Frangeš, a conservative land owner, became Yugoslavia’s minister of agriculture. He maintained close ties to German researchers, especially to the influential agrarian economist and nationalconservative Max Sering, and to the economist and sociologist Carl Brinkmann.22 On Brinkmann’s recommendation, in 1936 Frangeš obtained an honorary doctorate from Heidelberg University. Brinkmann argued that Frangeš, as a former Yugoslav state minister and extremely influential researcher in agrarian policy, was not just a symbolic figure for friendly relations with Germany, but also an intellectual figure who would contribute to the establishment of the Großraumwirtschaft. In Brinkmann’s view, politically it was even better for Germany that Frangeš was Croat rather than Serb.23 Frangeš was very active in holding talks and publishing in Germany before and during the Second World War.24 In a review of German agronomist Anton Hollmann’s “Agrarverfassung und Landwirtschaft Jugoslawiens,”25 Frangeš expressed thanks for the insight that Yugoslavia’s population density in agricultural areas was twice that of Denmark’s. This sole fact was more instructive than a whole monograph on the topic, Frangeš asserted.26 Following Hollmann’s example, Frangeš would later compare Danish and Southeastern European agricultural data. Among researchers at the time, Denmark was seen as the most progressive peasant state in the world. The repeated comparisons that were drawn between the “backwards” agricultural sector in Southeastern

156  Ian Innerhofer European and the industrialized agrarian sectors of Western and Northern Europe provided researchers with “hard” data that ostensibly demonstrated a population problem. The question of “agrarian overpopulation” was a central theme in numerous German monographs that were read extensively in Southeastern Europe, including books by Anton Reithinger (1936), Hermann Gross (1937), and Ernst Wagemann (1939). Economist Anton Reithinger, who was the director of the national economy department of IG Farben27 from 1932 to 1945, was very interested in demographic issues, especially in population forecasts. He predicted that Poland and the Balkan states would witness an increase of twenty-five million people in the coming thirty years, while the population of Western Europe would almost remain static.28 Meanwhile, the population density of Yugoslavia, Romania, and Bulgaria would increase by more than 31 percent between 1930 to 1960, according to his calculations.29 Hermann Gross was director of the Viennese branch office of the national economy department of IG Farben from 1939 to 1945. Starting in 1943, he gave lectures on “Central and Eastern Europe” at the Hochschule für Welthandel and at Vienna University. His monograph Südosteuropa: Bau und Entwicklung der Wirtschaft was published in 1937. In September  1941, Gross repeated his suggestions for solving Southeastern Europe’s urgent population question before the Chamber of Commerce in Zagreb.30 In his 1939 publication “Der neue Balkan: Altes Land  – junge Wirtschaft,” economist and statistician Ernst Wagemann31 wrote that economic conditions in the contemporary Balkans were similar to those when Malthus wrote his famous Essay in 1798. Like eighteenth-century England, the Balkans suffered from “excess population,” he wrote, noting that the population density in England and Wales in 1800 was sixty inhabitants per square kilometer, very similar to that of the Balkan states in 1937.32 In Yugoslavia, the debate about “agrarian overpopulation” grew more intense after the results of the agricultural census were published in 1938.33 In 1939, Otto Frangeš published his paper Die Bevölkerungsdichte als Triebkraft der Wirtschaftspolitik der südosteuropäischen Bauernstaaten (“Population Density as a Driver of Economic Policy in Southeastern European Agricultural States”) as part of lectures held at the Kiel Institute for the World Economy.34 This paper was often cited by scholars, particularly in Germany. In his introduction, Frangeš used Reithinger’s forecast of booming population growth in Southeastern Europe in order to augment the weight of his study.35 According to Frangeš, Yugoslavia, Bulgaria, and Romania, which had seventy to 110 people per square kilometer of agricultural land, should be viewed as “overpopulated.” In addition, he indicated that Reithinger viewed “overpopulation” as a population density above sixty-five people per square kilometer of agricultural area.36 After the break-up of Yugoslavia in April  1941, Frangeš stayed in Zagreb, now the capital of the “Independent State of Croatia” (NDH), which was an Axis puppet under the leadership of Ante Pavelić. In 1942, Frangeš began planning a joint research project with the title “Südosteuropa im europäischen Großwirtschaftsraum” together with his Romanian friend and colleague Mihail Manoilescu.37 The influential corporatist Manoilescu had published extensively

“Population pressure” and development models  157 in Germany before and during the Second World War, for example in the journal Weltwirtschaftliches Archiv38 of the Kiel Institute for the World Economy. He was in favor of economic cooperation between Romania and Germany, and he expected positive economic benefits to accrue to Romania from a German victory in the war. In his research, Manoilescu dealt with the “agrarian overpopulation” of Southeastern Europe and with the geopolitical implications of “population pressure” and “population decline.”39 The German population expert Friedrich Burgdörfer (1890–1967) got to know Frangeš during a lecture tour he took to Zagreb in March 1944. Frangeš hosted Burgdörfer at his flat, explaining over two days in detail the problem of “agrarian overpopulation” in Southeastern Europe. Burgdörfer noticed that Frangeš had close contacts to German scholars and business leaders, and he freely expressed his view that close cooperation between Southeastern Europe and Germany was necessary and unavoidable.40 The scientific community debating the problem of “agrarian overpopulation” exhibited particular features that can be traced back to different academic traditions. In Germany, research institutions played an important role, while the discussion in Southeastern Europe was primarily led by individual scholars.41 The majority of the economists in Southeastern Europe had studied abroad, many of them in German-speaking countries, and thus imported foreign knowledge to their countries of origin. The academic entanglements between Germany and Southeastern Europe were particularly visible in the field of economics. During the Second World War, fourteen Bulgarians wrote German-language dissertations on Bulgarian trade relations.42 Whereas German scholars tried to position themselves as independent experts working at the intersection between academia, politics, and the economy, many scholars in Southeastern Europe occupied dual roles, working as academics while also fulfilling government posts. Thus, the division between academia and politics and between business and politics was not so clear-cut in Southeastern Europe,43 making it difficult to disentangle the interests of political, economic, and scientific elites. The vast geographical scope of the areas researched with a view to “agrarian overpopulation” illustrates not just the international character of the discussion. It also highlights the extent to which the overpopulation concept was firmly entrenched in scientific thought. Researchers with different mother tongues were networked and shared knowledge in a variety of ways, as is evident based on their international conference activities and publications, and their mutual citations of each other. To name but one example, the Zagreb-based Ekonomist featured articles from German and Bulgarian experts in Croatian translation, including contributions from Reithinger and Gross. Depending on their academic paths and the personal or ideological preferences, there were also Southeastern European researchers who were very active in the German-speaking world through publications and conference papers; others were more drawn to the United States or the United Kingdom. In this way, Southeastern European scholars often drew on German- or English-language literature, aside from the literature in their countries of origin. Exchange among Yugoslavian, Romanian, and Bulgarian researchers existed only to a small extent (e.g., due to

158  Ian Innerhofer a common engagement with Germany). At the same time, the contacts between the economists reflected the power relations between Germany and Southeastern Europe. Indeed, it was the German researchers who discussed and dispensed advice on the “population problem” of Southeastern Europe, and not vice versa. It would be difficult to imagine Southeast European economists debating the “population problem” of Germany or providing suggestions for remedying the problem. Similarly, Southeastern European economists adopted demographic calculation methods and styles of thought from Germany. And while German researchers availed themselves of data collected by their Southeastern European colleagues, they mostly drew their own conclusions.

Relations and interests not without criticism Both German and Southeastern European economists criticized the predominance of subsistence farming, low productivity, the dearth of agricultural rationalization, and masses of “unprofitable eaters,” but for different reasons. For Germans, the economies of Southeastern Europe – in the absence of reform – would prove to be poor assets in the envisioned Großwirtschaftsraum.44 At the same time, for ruling elites in Southeastern Europe, “agrarian overpopulation” hampered their capital accumulation. However, the scientific community was divided on how the “problem of population pressure” should be solved. The dispute revolved around the macro-economic directions the region should take. Economists in the Third Reich mostly considered enhancing agricultural productivity in Southeastern Europe to be the best remedy for the population problem. Accordingly, they advocated industrial crops, like soybeans, which demanded more labor inputs.45 Such suggestions were crucially informed by Germany’s economic and political goals in the region. German researchers heavily criticized the industrialization efforts of Southeastern European states. They regretted that actors in Southeastern Europe did not want to discuss the merits of industrialization or how it would align with broader European interests.46 The fact that German leaders had long considered Southeastern Europe as falling under their nation’s sphere of influence was particularly important to the development of the concept of overpopulation. A notable feature in this process was the use of terms indicating the inferiority of Southeastern Europe, such as “backward” and “underdeveloped,” and the helping role Germany could play to “alleviate” this “population pressure,” e.g., by harnessing local populations to serve the Nazi war economy.47 In this way, the notion of “population pressure” served, among other things, as a vehicle for political goals, including the incorporation of Southeastern Europe in Germany’s Greater Economic Area (Großwirtschaftsraum). For their part, economists and politicians in Southeastern Europe followed their own interests and tried to gain advantage through their economic ties with Germany.48 In opposition to their German colleagues, economists in Southeastern Europe regarded the industrialization of Southeastern Europe to be the best way to “absorb the excess agrarian population,” regardless of their other political differences. Indeed, the leftist representatives of the peasant parties in Yugoslavia

“Population pressure” and development models  159 (Rudolf Bićanić)49 and in Romania (Virgil Madgearu)50 as well as conservative, Germany-friendly researchers and politicians like Frangeš51 and Manoilescu were in favor of building up domestic industry. Before the war, Frangeš had even indicated that Yugoslavia would have to seek closer ties to the Middle East and North Africa if Western Europe and Germany did not sufficiently respect Yugoslavia’s interests.52 During the war, as well, Frangeš did not stop to argue for industrialization and to lobby for the economic needs of Southeastern Europe inside the German sphere of influence.53 In July 1939, Serbian economist Nikola Mirković published a detailed study of Yugoslav population development and the problem of “agrarian overpopulation” in the Weltwirtschaftliches Archiv, where he argued for the industrialization of Yugoslavia.54 Meanwhile, in Bulgaria, the supporter of the German Großraumwirtschaft Stojan Stojanov argued in 1943 that the industrialization of Bulgaria was the sole remedy for “unemployment in agriculture.” To him, it was paramount to assess the possibilities and needs of Bulgaria’s national economy, which was the key to prosperity for the Bulgarian people, so that the latter could take its due place in the new economic order.55 Manoilescu criticized the view of German researchers that the industrialization of Southeastern Europe would be “artificial” or “inorganic.”56 He had repeatedly pointed to the unequal exchange between industrialized and agrarian countries, since the agrarian products which had to be exchanged for industrial products generally needed more labor inputs, especially in a technologically underdeveloped agricultural sector. Accordingly, Manoilescu pleaded for the establishment of advanced industry in Southeastern Europe, drawing on the recommendations of Friedrich List to buttress his argument.57 German scholars, who saw the progressing industrialization of Romania as threat to Germany’s foreign trade, criticized Manoilescu’s views,58 arguing in line with Ricardo that a country should concentrate on sectors where it has a comparative advantage. As it happened, this insight from classical economic theory on comparative advantage meshed perfectly with the prerogatives of the Großraumwirtschaft.59 In 1939, economist Ernst Wagemann argued that Malthus had failed to foresee the impressive progress of technology and that Malthusian pessimism was not shared by population policymakers in the Balkans. Wagemann predicted that nineteenth-century developments in Western and Central Europe would be reenacted in the Balkans in the twentieth century. He also shared the view that, in Southeastern Europe, industrialization represented the best remedy for “agrarian overpopulation.” Thus, Wagemann was appreciative of Southeastern European efforts to industrialize, and supported the theory of unequal exchange between agrarian and industrial states, as advanced by Mihail Manoilescu. Nevertheless, Wagemann rejected guided industrialization – for apparently apolitical reasons – as uneconomic. Rather, he argued – along with numerous German colleagues – for the intensification of agriculture and rationalization as a way of solving the “problem of agrarian overpopulation.”60 If Southeastern Europe were to industrialize at all, he wrote, it should take the form of “moderate industrialization,” e.g., the establishment of a processing industry for agricultural products.

160  Ian Innerhofer The prime solution for “overpopulation” in neo-Malthusian thinking – namely, birth control – was rarely addressed in the German/Southeastern European debate. This is particularly surprising when one considers that economists had blamed the increasing size of the populace as the main cause of “population pressure” in Southeastern Europe. It would appear that the remedy of birth control ran contrary to the nation-building aspirations and economic interests of Southeastern European elites, who were interested in expanding the size of their nations.61 Their concern was how to make the “unproductive excess eaters” in their countries exploitable for profit. Thus, while Frangeš mentions birth control as a possible solution, he quickly discards it.62 Germanophile Gheorghe N. Leon,63 a professor of economics at the University of Bucharest, had also studied the problem of “agrarian overpopulation” in Romania.64 In 1942, he was pleased with the high birth rate of the Romanian nation. When the number of forty million Romanians was reached in the beginning of the twenty-first century, he wrote, Romania will be part of those states, “whose word is to be respected.”65 Although German scholars complained that the Southeastern European elites were wrongfully embracing population growth, they also rarely advocated birth control as a solution, as most of them followed a specific völkisch variant of Malthusianism that was infused with pronatalism.66 To be sure, this version of Malthusianism was not at odds with the material interests of the ruling elite in Southeastern Europe. Furthermore, Germany had geopolitical reasons not to advocate birth control in Southeastern Europe, as the region was an ally that was to undergird Germany’s Großraumwirtschaft.

“Population pressure” in Southeastern Europe and völkisch thought A further explanation for why the overpopulation concept achieved such widespread adoption is that it dovetailed well with other intellectual currents. The debate on the “agrarian overpopulation” of Southeastern Europe was accompanied by eugenic visions,67 racist mindsets, and geopolitical considerations that were often closely connected to völkisch thought in Germany and Southeastern Europe. Indeed, as soon as scholars construct an “us” versus “them” polarity – for example, by examining divergent fertility rates  – there is ripe opportunity for racist thought. Depending on the country and ethnic groups or classes being examined, the conclusion is quickly reached that the “others” are too numerous.68 By co-mingling the notion of “depopulation” in industrial states and the ostensible problem of a “population explosion” in “backward” countries, science invites racist implications.69 Ian Hacking has commented incisively on the dual face of the “population problem”: The “population problem” denotes both the population explosion of other peoples and too low a birth rate of one’s own people. During the 19th century in France, one’s own people were French, the others German and British. In Prussia . . . the others were Jewish. Today the others are the Third World. In late-Victorian England, the others were the labouring classes.70

“Population pressure” and development models  161 German sociological and political thought at the time was pervaded by Darwinist notions of “survival of the fittest” in the competition between nations and peoples.71 Shortly before the First World War, the fear of the “menace of a flooding by fecund alien people from the East” had developed into an obsession among scholars in Germany.72 In 1933, population sociologist Gunther Ipsen73 stated that everywhere in Central and Southeastern Europe German nationals were threatened by an “overpopulated” Slavic East. At the points of friction between “overpopulated” into “depopulated” space, the völkisch battle would inevitably flare up, it was asserted.74 Johann Wüscht (1897–1976), Sepp Janko’s assistant and head of the statistical office of the Germans in Yugoslavia, complained that the “population pressure” of the Southeastern European peoples would menace the German minorities in a “biopolitical battle” (Burgdörfer) for “German soil.” Especially the Germans in the Vojvodina would be exposed to “infiltration,” “fremdvölkisch influence” and “Entvolkung,” since there would be a constant migration from the south to the north of the country.75 Serbian circles of the interwar period indeed discussed means for the “nationalization” of Vojvodina in order to safeguard the dominance of the Slavic population.76 In a European context, Manoilescu had tried to reconcile the demographic situation of Germany and Southeastern Europe in a political alliance. He conceptualized a tripartition of Europe by relating the “population pressure” of countries to their economic structure. The first group in his model consisted of the Western and Northern European states, which were not suffering from “population pressure.” The second group encompassed the Central European countries of Germany and Italy, which would be exposed to “unbearable population pressure” without significant colonial possessions. The third group included Eastern Europe (excluding Russia), which, because of its agrarian structure and increasing population, also had to suffer “unbearable population pressure.” Manoilescu suggested that the latter two would be predestined to behave in solidarity and to help each other on the basis of their demographic situation. While their problem could be solved through the formation of a common Großwirtschaftraum, the opposition between Western Europe on the one side and Central and Eastern Europe on the other side would be insurmountable.77 However, Bićanić, who was critical of Germany, turned the tables on the German argument when he stated that the sheer number of eighty million Germans would exercise pressure on the small nations of East-Central Europe.78 Ðuro Kopač, who in 1940 had argued based on Bićanić’s findings that Croatia was suffering from “agrarian overpopulation,” was still able to demand the return of the German and Hungarian “immigrants” to their home nations in order to create new living space in rural areas.79 Racism took many different forms and in some instances was completely absent in scholarly writings about the “population pressure” faced by Southeastern Europe. While in German-speaking works anti-Slavism and anti-Semitism prevailed, studies from Southeastern Europe tended to voice resentments against minorities in their respective countries. While anti-Semitism was stronger in Romania, discrimination in Yugoslavia and Bulgaria tended to target Muslim minorities. Yet there are also works in which one finds no trace of racist thought or ethnic or confessional basis, but instead negative portrayals of peasant class.80

162  Ian Innerhofer Peter-Heinz Seraphim81 was a leading figure in the deployment of the overpopulation concept for anti-Semitic purposes. In his article from 1941, “Population and economic policy problems of a comprehensive European solution of the Jewish question,” he argued that one cause of “excessive population pressure” in rural Eastern and Southeastern Europe was that rural inhabitants, particularly the young, were hindered by the urban “Jewish element” from finding gainful employment in cities, which were “blocked” by the Jews. But he also warned that the “emptying” of East European cities of Jews would give an outlet for the “population pressure” in a beneficial direction, since Frangeš and Theodor Oberländer82 had demonstrated the absolute and relative “overpopulation” of this region, arguing that the “excess population” accounted for 50–60  percent of the total agrarian population.83 Economist Alfred Maelicke argued that “only the total de-judaization of economic life” would resolve Southeastern Europe’s “overpopulation.”84 The German plans for resettlement in the East (Generalplan Ost) had a counterpart in Southeastern Europe. Specifically, the Balkan elites were determined to achieve the ethnic homogenization of their countries. The following examples show that, in Southeastern Europe, economists and politicians used the concept of “population pressure” to argue for the expulsion of national minorities and/ or the consolidation of the nation-state. It was against this backdrop that atavistic calls were made to expel the Muslim and Turkish populations to Turkey, a demand that had been raised since the Balkan wars.85 During the agrarian reform after the First World War in Yugoslavia, there were efforts made to deprive the Muslim populations in Macedonia and Kosovo from its economic basis and to settle non-Muslims from other parts of the country in these regions. In Romania, research on “population problems” concentrated on the Hungarian minority in Transylvania. Sabin Manuilă,86 head of the Statistical Central Office in Bucharest, was pleased that the size of the Romanian population in Transylvania would increase every day, while those of other ethnicities would fall. Manuilă advocated the ethnic homogenization of Romania and searched for biological arguments to counter Hungarian objections to the union of Transylvania with the Romanian old kingdom.87 Later, Manuilă developed a strategy for solving the problems of “population pressure” while contributing to ethnic cleansing at same time. Along the nation’s borders, large villages should be established to exploit new arable land. Such a policy would not only lead to an “ethnic cleansing” of the border but also to a more rational distribution of the rural population in villages and cities.88 Following territorial changes over the course of war, the target group for expulsions changed. Ustasha economist Bogumil Andrašević praised the expulsion of the Serb population from the NDH and the settlement of Croats from “overpopulated” areas of Croatia.89 Bulgarian economists explored how territories gained during the war could help alleviate Bulgaria’s “population pressures.” In 1942, Stojan Stojanov concluded that the newly freed territories would not solve the question of 800,000 unemployed Bulgarians in agriculture, since they were mostly inhabited by Bulgarians. Only the Aegean province could be considered, but this would depend on the expulsion of the Greek population there, he wrote.90 In this way,

“Population pressure” and development models  163 we find the overpopulation concept had divergent levels of significance in Southeastern European resettlement plans. While it played a central role in the expulsion and eradication plans of “Generalplan Ost,” the concept was leveraged as a supplementary argument in other contexts in order to undergird irredentist claims.

Conclusion Ultimately, the discussion on Southeastern Europe’s “agrarian overpopulation” represented another chapter in the population and development discourse posited by Malthus. The concept had a strong basis in science and was further strengthened by the transnational sharing of knowledge. It must be viewed as a component of historical processes in the “economization of life” and the “demographization” of social and economic problems. In the sense of a “proxy discourse,” the debate on the “population pressures” faced by Southeastern Europe informed currents in macro-economic thought of highest political and economic importance (i.e., “agrarian vs. industrial state”). Furthermore, the discussion is a good example of the persistence of thought styles posited by Ludwik Fleck. Economists in Southeastern Europe and Germany collaborated and shared knowledge on an extensive basis, even if this sharing was selective and mediated by the intentions and interests of the respective scholars. As discussed in the foregoing, the concept of population pressure was often used to legitimize political and economic goals, including the efforts of Balkan elites to industrialize, and the interests of German elites in integrating Southeastern Europe into its economic sphere of influence. In contributing to the debate, economists in Southeastern European appeared to pursue their own personal interests while also advocating policies they believed would strengthen their countries. They made use of their ties to Germany to legitimize the industrialization efforts of Southeastern Europe, and to argue for the establishment of national borders based on demographics. While birth control was seen as the key solution to overpopulation in neoMalthusianism, German researchers rarely discussed this option, encouraging the opinion that German researchers differed in their views from English-speaking neo-Malthusians and were advocates of a specific völkisch variant of the Malthusian paradigm. In this regard, German scholars were similar to their Southeastern European counterparts, the latter of whom openly embraced the völkisch variant of the overpopulation concept, for it was compatible with the desire to expand the population of their home nations while also cleansing this population ethnically.

Notes 1 For the ideologically loaded terms “Balkans” and “Southeastern Europe” see Milan Ristović, “The Birth of ‘Southeastern Europe’ and the Death of ‘The Balkans,’ ” Thetis 2 (1995); Maria Todorova, Imagining the Balkans, (New York: Oxford University Press, 1997); Holm Sundhaussen, “Die Wiederentdeckung des Raums: Über Nutzen und Nachteil von Geschichtsregionen,” in Südosteuropa: Von vormoderner Vielfalt und nationalstaatlicher Vereinheitlichung, ed. Konrad Clewing and Oliver Jens Schmitt (Munich: Oldenbourg, 2005).

164  Ian Innerhofer 2 It thereby draws on recent historiographical conceptualizations of scientific networks and soft power. See Sevasti Trubeta, “Researching the Scientific Networks between Germany and Southeastern Europe Multiplex Scholarly Paths through Opportunity and Choice,” Zeitschrift für Balkanologie 50, no. 1 (2014); Stephen G. Gross, Export Empire: German Soft Power in Southeastern Europe, 1890–1945 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015). 3 Already Malthus wrote his Essay as political and ideological argumentation against the English Poor Laws. Since Malthus knew very little about population growth and agriculture, the causes for its positive reception were more political then scientific; Eric B. Ross, The Malthus Factor: Poverty, Politics and Population in Capitalist Development (London et al.: Zed Books, 1998), 1–30. 4 Often, the term was used uncritically to write Southeast Europe’s economic history, which does not speak in favor of the terms but rather against historiography; Diana Siebert, Bäuerliche Alltagsstrategien in der belarussischen SSR (1921–1941) (Stuttgart: Steiner, 1998), 17. 5 See Shalini Randeria, “Globalisierung und Geschlechterfrage,” in Globalisierung aus Frauensicht: Bilanzen und Visionen, ed. Ruth Klingebiel and Shalini Randeria (Bonn: Dietz, 1998), 27. 6 Christian Gerlach, Kalkulierte Morde: Die deutsche Wirtschafts- und Vernichtungs­ politik in Weißrußland 1941 bis 1944 (Hamburg: Hamburger Edition, 1999), 76–77. 7 Susanne Heim and Ulrike Schaz, Berechnung und Beschwörung: Überbevölkerung – Kritik einer Debatte (Berlin: Verlag der Buchläden Schwarze Risse/Rote Strasse, 1996), 10. 8 Josef Ehmer, “Migration und Bevölkerung – Zur Kritik eines Erklärungsmodells,” Tel Aviver Jahrbuch für deutsche Geschichte 27 (1998): 5, 22–23. Until today, the overpopulation concept was used as explanation for migration, poverty, hunger, “underdevelopment,” pollution, crime, social tensions, political instability, and wars. 9 See Heinz Steinert, “Die Diagnostik der Überflüssigen,” in Exklusion: Die Debatte über die “Überflüssigen,” ed. Heinz Bude and Andreas Willisch (Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp, 2008), 120. 10 Thomas Etzemüller, Ein ewigwährender Untergang: Der apokalyptische Bevöl­ kerungsdiskurs im 20. Jahrhundert (Bielefeld: Transcript, 2007), 26. 11 The buzzword was based on the novel of the same title by Hans Grimm from 1926; Heike Wolter, “Volk ohne Raum” – Lebensraumvorstellungen im geopolitischen, lite­ rarischen und politischen Diskurs der Weimarer Republik (Münster et al.: LIT, 2003). See also Hitler’s complaint of an “overpopulated” Germany; Wilhelm Treue, Hitlers Denkschrift zum Vierjahresplan 1936, Vierteljahrshefte für Zeitgeschichte 3, no. 2 (1955): 206. 12 Friedrich Burgdörfer, Volk ohne Jugend (Berlin: Vowinckel, 1932). 13 E.g., Gerhard Schacher, Der Balkan und seine wirtschaftlichen Kräfte (Stuttgart: Enke, 1930), 156. 14 See Heim and Schaz, Berechnung und Beschwörung, 45. One of the leading developers of the “Generalplan Ost,” Konrad Meyer (1901–1973), combined both argumentation strings in his economic planning for East Europe. As a response to the “shortage of space” in Germany, the conquered, “overpopulated” territories in the East should be cured by the settlement of German farmers; Konrad Meyer, “Agrarprobleme des neuen Europa,” Forschungsdienst 14 (1942): 126–127. 15 Alison Bashford, “Nation, Empire, Globe: The Spaces of Population Debate in the Interwar Years,” Comparative Studies in Society and History 49, no. 1 (2007): 180–183. 16 In the economic analyses of that time, Southeastern Europe usually encompassed Yugoslavia, Romania, and Bulgaria because of their similar population and economic structure. Hungary had large-scale farming and a more advanced industry. In Greece,

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17

18

19 20 21

22 23 24

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the trade sector played a more important role. In Albania and Turkey, gardening played an important role (wine, olives, fruits, etc.); large parts of the agricultural population were solely stock breeders. In Turkey, there was still not or barely tapped land for cultivation; Hermann Gross, Südosteuropa: Bau und Entwicklung der Wirtschaft (Leipzig: Noske, 1937), 47. One exception was the communist writer Veselin Masleša (1906–1943), who had studied economics in Frankfurt. In his work, he deliberately distanced himself from the “bourgeois” and “peasant” economists and their excessive use of the overpopulation model; Veselin Masleša, “Poljoprivreda,” in Dela: Prva Knjiga, ed. Veselin Masleša (Sarajevo: Svjetlost, 1954 [1941]), 40. Masleša was killed in the Battle of Sutjeska in 1943 fighting for the Yugoslav partisans. From 1936 until 1941, Seraphim (1899–1962) directed the Institute for Central and Southeastern Europe Economic Research (Institut für Mittel- und Südosteuropäische Wirtschaftsforschung) of Leipzig University and afterwards headed the East Europe Institute in Wrocław until 1944. In this function, he was editor of the OstraumBerichte, in which economic studies of East and Southeastern Europe were published. Besides, after the attack on the Soviet Union, he took the conceptual leadership of the “Verbund deutscher wissenschaftlicher Ost- und Südostinstitute” (“Südostgemeinschaft”). The network of Institutes in different cities should address collectively questions evolving from the political and economic developments in this region, e.g., the Großwirtschaftsraum; Frank-Rutger Hausmann, “Auch im Krieg schweigen die Musen nicht”: Die deutschen wissenschaftlichen Institute im Zweiten Weltkrieg (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2001), 51. Hans-Jürgen Seraphim, “Die statistische Erfassung der landwirtschaftlichen Übervölkerung und Untervölkerung,” Berichte für Landwirtschaft 13 (1930): 199. Hermann Gross, Die Slowakei in der Großraumwirtschaft Europas (Pressburg: Roland-Verlag, 1943), 27. Horst Kahrs, “Von der ‘Großraumwirtschaft’ zur ‘Neuen Ordnung’: Zur strategischen Orientierung der deutschen Eliten 1932–1943,” in Modelle für ein deutsches Europa: Ökonomie und Herrschaft im Großwirtschaftsraum, ed. Götz Aly et al. (Berlin: RotbuchVerlag 1992), 9–11; Joachim Drews, Die “Nazi-Bohne”: Anbau, Verwendung und Auswirkung der Sojabohne im Deutschen Reich und Südosteuropa (1933–1945) (Münster: LIT, 2004), 193–194. See Carl Freytag, Deutschlands “Drang nach Südosten”: Der Mitteleuropäische Wirtschaftstag und der “Ergänzungsraum Südosteuropa” 1931– 1945 (Göttingen: V&R unipress, 2012), 54–75. Brinkmann (1885–1954) also contributed to the debate on the “population pressure” of Southeastern Europe: Carl Brinkmann, “Das Problem der agraren Übervölkerung in Europa,” Der Forschungsdienst, special issue no. 18 (1943). Steven Remy, The Heidelberg Myth: The Nazification and Denazification of a German University (Cambridge/MA: Harvard University Press, 2002), 63–64. Ian Innerhofer, “ ‘Agrarische Übervölkerung’ in Südosteuropa: Zur Konstruktion eines Problems bei Otto Frangeš und Rudolf Bićanić (1931–1941),” in “Mitteleuropa” und “Südosteuropa” als Planungsraum: Wirtschafts- und kulturpolitische Expertisen im Zeitalter der Weltkriege, ed. Carola Sachse (Göttingen: Wallstein, 2010), 265–267. For Frangeš and his work on “agrarian overpopulation,” see ibid. Anton Heinrich Hollmann (1879–1936) was head of the Division of Agriculture for Eastern and Southeastern Europe in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and one of the first German economists to address the phenomenon of “agricultural overpopulation” in Southeastern Europe. Otto von Frangeš, “Rezension zu Hollmann, A. H.: Agrarverfassung und Landwirtschaft Jugoslawiens,” Weltwirtschaftliches Archiv 34, no. 2 (1931): 228. The national economy department of IG Farben was the largest department in the IG Farben headquarters in Berlin. It collected data on foreign economies the company

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28 29 30 31

32 33

34

35 36 37 38 39

was interested in and beyond; Götz Aly and Susanne Heim, Vordenker der Vernichtung: Auschwitz und die deutschen Pläne für eine neue europäische Ordnung (Hamburg: Fischer, 2013 [1991]), 59. For the special interest of IG Farben in Southeastern Europe and its role as the driving force behind an important soya bean cultivation project in Romania, see Drews, Die “Nazi-Bohne.” In 1945, Reithinger started as department head in the Bavarian Ministry of Economy; from 1951 to 1958, he was chief economic advisor at the FRG’s representation at the Organisation for European Economic Co-operation (OEEC) in Paris. Anton Reithinger, “Das europäische Agrarproblem,” Europäische Revue 10, no. 8 (1934): 553–554. Anton Reithinger, Das wirtschaftliche Gesicht Europas (Stuttgart: Deutsche VerlagsAnstalt, 1936), 19, 146. Gross, Südosteuropa, 47; Hermann Gross: “Bit i značaj gospodarstvene suradnje između Njemačke i Jugoistočne Europe,” Ekonomist 7, no. 4–5–6 (1941): 110–117. In Berlin, Wagemann (1884–1956) founded in 1925 the Institute for Business Cycle Research (Institut für Konjunkturforschung, from 1941 Deutsches Institut für Wirtschaftsforschung) and was until 1945 its first president. Besides, he was head of the Vienna Institute for Economic Research (Wiener Institut für Wirtschaftsforschung). In 1942, he stated a population law, according to which periods of “overpopulation” and “underpopulation” would alternate in history. For Wagemann’s work and life, see Adam Tooze, Statistics and the German State, 1900–1945: The Making of Modern Economic Knowledge (Cambridge et al.: Cambridge University Press, 2001). Ernst Wagemann, Der neue Balkan: Altes Land – junge Wirtschaft (Hamburg: Hanseatische Verlagsanstalt, 1939), 57–58. Opšta Državna Statistika, Statistički godišnjak 1937 (Belgrade: Državna Štamparija, 1938), 98–134. See Johann Wüscht, “Wesen und Grundlagen der natürlichen Bevöl­ kerungsbewegung in Jugoslawien,” Archiv für Bevölkerungswissenschaft und Bevöl­ kerungspolitik 8, no. 3 (1938); Oto Frangeš, “Problem relativne prenapučenosti u Jugoslaviji,” Arhiv Ministarstva poljoprivrede 5, no. 11 (1938). For the Institute for the World Economy, see Christoph Dieckmann, “Wirtschaftsforschung für den Großraum: Zur Theorie und Praxis des Kieler Instituts für Weltwirtschaft und des Hamburger Welt-Wirtschafts-Archivs im ‘Dritten Reich,’ ” in Modelle für ein deutsches Europa: Ökonomie und Herrschaft im Großwirtschaftsraum, ed. Götz Aly et  al. (Berlin: Rotbuch-Verlag, 1992); Hans-Christian Petersen, “Expertisen für die Praxis: Das Kieler Institut für Weltwirtschaft 1933 bis 1945,” in Wissenschaft an der Grenze: Die Universität Kiel im Nationalsozialismus, ed. Christoph Cornelissen and Carsten Mish (Essen: Klartext, 2009). Frangeš, Problem relativne prenapučenosti, 4; Otto von Frangeš, Die Bevölkerungs­ dichte als Triebkraft der Wirtschaftspolitik der südosteuropäischen Bauernstaaten (Jena: Fischer, 1939), 6; see Reithinger, Das wirtschaftliche Gesicht, 19, 146. Frangeš, Die Bevölkerungsdichte, 13; see Reithinger, Das wirtschaftliche Gesicht, 23. Mihail Manoilescu, “Die sozialen und wirtschaftlichen Ungleichheiten zwischen Westund Südosteuropa und die Wege der Eingliederung des Südostens in den europäischen Großwirtschaftsraum,” Ostraum-Berichte NF, no. 1 (1943–1944): 1. At that time, the Weltwirtschaftliches Archiv had a print run of 2,000 and was widely spread. Renowned in German scientific circles, well-connected scholars from Southeastern Europe published in the Weltwirtschaftliches Archiv in German. Politically, Manoilescu approved the population exchange with neighboring states in order to create an ethnic homogenous Romania. In summer 1940, he had been Romanian minister of foreign affairs and was forced to sign the Second Vienna Award for Romania. For Manoilescu’s (1891–1950) work and life, see Joseph Love, “Manoilescu, Prebisch, and the Thesis of Unequal Change,” Rumanian Studies 5 (1980–1986); Angela Harre, “Mihail Manoilescu: Biografía de un economista nacional,” Empresas políticas 4, no. 5 (2006).

“Population pressure” and development models  167 40 Friedrich Burgdörfer, Bericht über meine Vortragsreise nach Kroatien 1944, Südosteuropa-Gesellschaft, Federal Archives Berlin (Bundesarchiv Berlin, BArch Berlin), R63/252, 44a and 45a. 41 One mentionable institution was the Institute of Agronomic Research of Rumania (Institutul de Cercetări Agronomice al României). See Gheorghe Ionescu-Şişeşti, L’organisation et l’activité de l’Institut de Recherches Agronomiques de Roumanie de 1928 à 1936 (Bucharest: Imprimeria naţionala, 1937). 42 Thomas Bohn, “Bulgariens Rolle im‚ wirtschaftlichen’ Ergänzungsraum: Hintergründe für den Beitritt zum Dreimächtepakt am 1. März 1941,” in Besatzung und Bündnis: Deutsche Herrschaftsstrategien in Ost- und Südosteuropa, ed. Christoph Dieckmann et al. (Berlin: Verlag der Buchläden Schwarze Risse/Rote Strasse, 1995), 125; see Roumiana Preshlenova, “Elitenbildung: Die Südost-Stiftung des Mitteleuropäischen Wirtschaftstags Berlin an der Hochschule für Welthandel in Wien,” in “Mitteleuropa” und “Südosteuropa” als Planungsraum: Wirtschafts- und kulturpolitische Expertisen im Zeitalter der Weltkriege, ed. Carola Sachse (Göttingen: Wallstein, 2010). 43 See Maria Georgieva, “Unternehmer, Staat und Politik: Zur Rolle der Wirtschaftselite in Bulgarien 1878–1941,” in Eliten in Südosteuropa: Rolle, Kontinuitäten, Brüche in Geschichte und Gegenwart, ed. Wolfgang Höpken and Holm Sundhaussen (Munich: Südosteuropa-Gesellschaft, 1998), 125. 44 Jörg Gutberger, Volk, Raum und Sozialstruktur: Sozialstruktur- und Sozialraumforschung im “Dritten Reich” (Münster: LIT, 1996), 422; see Theodor Oberländer, “Die agrarische Überbevölkerung Ostmitteleuropas,” in Deutsche Ostforschung: Ergebnisse und Aufgaben seit dem ersten Weltkrieg. Vol. 2, ed. Hermann Aubin et al. (Leipzig: Hirzel, 1943), 420. 45 Wagemann, Der neue Balkan, 74–75; Oberländer, “Die agrarische Überbevölkerung,” 422; see Drews, Die “Nazi-Bohne,” 225–226. 46 See i.a. Gross, Südosteuropa, 221; Wagemann, Der neue Balkan, 62. 47 Ian Innerhofer, “The Role of the ‘agrarian overpopulation’ in German Spatial and Economic Planning for Southeastern Europe before and during World War II,” in Perpetual Motion? Transformation and Transition in Central, Eastern Europe & Russia, ed. Tul’si Bhambry et al. (London: UCL School of Slavonic and East European Studies, 2011), 49. Nationalist economists and politicians in Southeastern Europe could not be satisfied with this solution; e.g., Stojan Stojanov, “Novijat stopanski red i Bălgarija,” Spisanie na Bălgarskoto Ikonomičesko Družestvo 41, no. 3 (1942): 158. 48 Markus Wien illustrated that Bulgarian economists and politicians were quite successful in enforcing Bulgarian economic interests in the bilateral trade with Germany; Markus Wien, Markt und Modernisierung: Deutsch-bulgarische Wirtschaftsbeziehungen 1918–1944 in ihren konzeptionellen Grundlagen (Munich: Oldenbourg, 2007). Alan S. Milward even argued that Germany was ready to sacrifice short-term trade advantages with Southeast Europe in order to gain long-term dominance over the region: Alan Milward, “The Reichsmark Bloc and the International Economy,” in Der “Führerstaat”: Mythos und Realität  – Studien zur Struktur und Politik des Dritten Reiches, ed. Gerhard Hirschfeld and Lothar Kettenacker (Stuttgart: Klett-Cotta, 1981). 49 Rudolf Bićanić, Agrarna prenapučenost (Zagreb: Gospodarska sloga, 1940), 25. Croatian economist Bićanić (1905–1968) had studied in Paris and Zagreb. In his influential paper on the “agrarian overpopulation” of Croatia, he considered the approach from the consumption or living standard to be scientifically more exact and had therefore adopted the definition of German economist Ludwig Elster (1856–1935); Bićanić, Agrarna prenapučenost, 10. Following the Cvetković-Maček-agreement on a limited Croatian autonomy, he was named head of the Yugoslav direction for external trade in 1940. After the German attack on Yugoslavia, he accompanied the Yugoslav exile government to London, where he held several positions. He later joined the communist

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51 52 53 54

55 56

57

58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66

movement of the liberation of Yugoslavia. For Bićanić and his work on “agrarian overpopulation,” see Innerhofer, “ ‘Agrarische Übervölkerung.’ ” Virgil Madgearu, Evoluţia economiei româneşti după războiul mondial (Bucharest: Editura Ştiinţifică, 1940), 150. Economist Madgearu (1887–1940), the leading theoretician of agrarism in Romania, was killed by the Iron Guard because of his anti-fascist activities. Frangeš, Die Bevölkerungsdichte, 29. Otto von Frangeš, “Möglichkeiten der Umorientierung des jugoslawischen Außenhandels,” Weltwirtschaftliches Archiv 39, no. 3 (1934). Otto von Frangeš, “Die Donaustaaten Südosteuropas und der deutsche Großwirtschaftsraum,” Weltwirtschaftliches Archiv 53 (1941): 311–312. Nicholas Mirkowich, “Die Bevölkerungsentwicklung Jugoslawiens und das Problem der agrarischen Übervölkerung,” Weltwirtschaftliches Archiv 50, no. 1 (1939): 138. The same year, Mirković (1915–1944) went to the United States to a position in the Economics Department of the University of California. In 1942 he became chief of the Yugoslav Office of Reconstruction and Economic Affairs in New York and was responsible for a series of studies on the post-war economic problems of Yugoslavia. He subsequently enlisted in the United States Army and was killed in May 1944 in Yugoslavia, while firing at a low-flying German plane; A. G. B. Fisher, “Nicholas Mirkovich (1915–1944),” The Economic Journal 56, no. 223 (1946). Stojanov, “Novijat stopanski red,” 155, 158. Mihaïl Manoïlesco, “Probleme des Industrialisierungsprozesses in Südosteuropa,” Weltwirtschaftliches Archiv 61, no. 1 (1945): 1–2. “Organic” was the term used by German economists to describe the harmony of economic interests of all sides in the Großwirtschaftsraum; see e.g., Hermann Gross, Die wirtschaftliche Bedeutung Südosteuropas für das Deutsche Reich (Stuttgart et al.: Kohlhammer, 1938), 14, 26. Mihail Manoilescu, Die nationalen Produktivkräfte und der Aussenhandel: Theorie des internationalen Warenaustausches (Berlin: Junker  & Dünnhaupt, 1937 [1929]), and Manoilescu, “Die sozialen und wirtschaftlichen Ungleichheiten”; see Stevan Kukoleča, Industrija Jugoslavije 1918–1938 (Belgrade: Balkanska štampa, 1941), 533–537; Gheorghe Leon, “Der Begriff der Produktivität und die Zusammenarbeit zwischen Agrar- und Industrieländern,” Weltwirtschaftliches Archiv 58 (1943). For his theory of unequal exchange and its successful dissemination in Latin America, see Love, “Manoilescu.” See e.g., Carl Brinkmann, “Mihail Manoïlesco und die klassische Außenhandelstheorie,” Weltwirtschaftliches Archiv 48, no. 2 (1938). See also the conception in Friedrich Naumann, Mitteleuropa (Berlin: Reimer, 1915). Wagemann, Der neue Balkan, 62–75; see Gross, Südosteuropa, 221. For the pro-natalistic policy in interwar Bulgaria, see Svetla Baloutzova, Demography and Nation: Social Legislation and Population Policy in Bulgaria, 1918–1944 (Budapest et al.: CEU Press, 2011). Otto Frangeš, Die sozialökonomische Struktur der jugoslawischen Landwirtschaft (Berlin: Weidmann, 1937), 117. Leon (1888–1949) received his Ph.D. from the University Jena in 1914 and kept good contacts to academic circles in Germany. He became minister of economy in the first “Legionary government” of September 1940. Gheorghe Leon, Struktur und Entwicklungsmöglichkeiten der rumänischen Volks­ wirtschaft (Jena: Fischer, 1941), 13–18, and Leon, “Der Begriff der Produktivität,” 442–446. Gheorghe Leon, “Rumänien im neuen Europa,” Ostraum-Berichte NF, 1 (1942): 67. That economists, who were convinced of the Malthusian concept of overpopulation nevertheless had to see birth control as a way to alleviate the economic situation in rural areas, illustrates the statement of Hans-Jürgen Seraphim that the “by itself so regrettable limitation of birth” and the dominance of the one- and two-child system among the German farmers in Southeastern Europe was for him without doubt the

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69 70 71 72 73

74 75 76 77 78 79

80 81

starting point for a rationalization and modernization of the agricultural work, see e.g., Hans-Jürgen Seraphim, “Die Einwirkungen der südosteuropäischen Agrarentwicklung auf die deutsche Volkswirtschaft,” Ostraum-Berichte NF, 1 (1942): 46; Gunther Ipsen, “Agrarische Bevölkerung,” in Arbeiten des XIV. Internationalen Soziologen Kongresses, section B, vol. 1: Das Dorf, ed. Dimitrie Gusti (Bucharest: Rumanian Institute for Social Science, 1940), 14. See e.g., Anton Hollmann, Agrarverfassung und Landwirtschaft Jugoslawiens (Berlin: Parey, 1931), 68–69. For the eugenic discourse in Southeastern Europe, see i.a. Christian Promitzer, Sevasti Trubeta, and Marius Turda, eds., Health, Hygiene and Eugenics in Southeastern Europe to 1945 (Budapest et al.: CEU Press, 2011). See Ingo Haar, “Bevölkerungspolitische Szenarien und bevölkerungswissenschaftliche Expertise im Nationalsozialismus: Die rassistische Konstruktion des Fremden und das ‘Grenz- und Auslandsdeutschtum,’ ” in Das Konstrukt “Bevölkerung” vor, im und nach dem “Dritten Reich,” ed. Rainer Mackensen and Jürgen Reulecke (Wiesbaden: VS Verlag für Sozialwissenschaften, 2005), 342. Stefan Kühl, Die Internationale der Rassisten: Aufstieg und Niedergang der internationalen Bewegung für Eugenik und Rassenhygiene im 20. Jahrhundert (Frankfurt am Main et al.: Campus-Verlag, 1997), 199. Ian Hacking, The Taming of Chance (Cambridge et al.: Cambridge University Press, 1990), 22. Lutz Raphael, “Radikales Ordnungsdenken und die Organisation totalitärer Herrschaft: Weltanschauungseliten und Humanwissenschaftler im NS-Regime,” Geschichte und Gesellschaft 27, no. 1 (2001): 8–9. Josef Ehmer, “ ‘Nationalsozialistische Bevölkerungspolitik’ in der neuen historischen Forschung,” in Bevölkerungslehre und Bevölkerungspolitik im “Dritten Reich,” ed. Rainer Mackensen (Opladen: Leske + Budrich, 2004), 26. For Ipsen’s (1899–1984) life and work, see David Hamann, “Gunther Ipsen und die völkische Realsoziologie,” in Völkische Wissenschaften und Politikberatung im 20. Jahrhundert: Expertise und “Neuordnung” Europas, ed. Michael Fahlbusch and Ingo Haar (Paderborn et al.: Schöningh, 2010). Gunther Ipsen, s.v.“Bevölkerungslehre,” in Handwörterbuch des Grenz- und Auslanddeutschtums. Vol. 1, ed. Carl Petersen et al. (Breslau: F. Hirt, 1933), 461. Johann Wüscht, “Die bevölkerungspolitische Gefahrenlage der deutschen Volksgruppe in Südslawien,” Archiv für Bevölkerungswissenschaft und Bevölkerungspolitik 6, no. 3 (1936): 137, 143–148; Wüscht, “Wesen und Grundlagen,” 167. See Saša Marković, “Odnos Matice srpske prema demografskoj strukturi stanovništva Vojvodine između dva svetska rata,” Zbornik Matice srpske za društvene nauke 121 (2006). Mihail Manoilescu, “Die drei Europa,” Europäische Revue 15, no. 9 (1939): 193–196. Rudolf Bićanić, “Central European Stability and Yugoslavia,” Journal of Central European Affairs 3, no. 1 (1943): 26. Gjuro Kopač, Naš seljački problem (Zagreb: Narodno kolo, 1940), 15–16; for the German and Hungarian minorities in interwar Yugoslavia, see i.a. Zoran Janjetović, Deca careva, pastorčad kraljeva: Nacionalne manjine u Jugoslaviji 1918–1941 (Belgrade: INIS, 2005), and Carl Bethke, Deutsche und ungarische Minderheiten in Kroatien und der Vojvodina 1918–1941: Identitätsentwürfe und ethnopolitische Mobilisierung (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2009). The writings of anti-communist Frangeš are dominated by classism instead of racism: Frangeš, Die sozialökonomische Struktur, 108–109; Frangeš, “Problem relativne prenapučenosti,” 26–27; Frangeš, Die Bevölkerungsdichte, 27. Hans-Jürgen’s brother (1902–1979) worked at the Institut für Osteuropäische Wirtschaft (Institute for Eastern European Economy) in Königsberg. For his life and work, see Hans-Christian Petersen, Bevölkerungsökonomie, Ostforschung, Politik: Eine biographische Studie zu Peter-Heinz Seraphim (1902–1979) (Osnabrück: Fibre, 2007).

170  Ian Innerhofer 82 Theodor Oberländer (1905–1998) was director of the Institut für Osteuropäische Wirtschaft (Institute for Eastern European Economy) in Königsberg. 83 Peter-Heinz Seraphim, “Bevölkerungs- und wirtschaftspolitische Probleme einer europäischen Gesamtlösung der Judenfrage,” Weltkampf 18, no. 1–2 (1941): 45. 84 Alfred Maelicke, “Fortschreitende Entjudung Europas,” Die deutsche Volkswirtschaft 11, 33 (1942): 1273; see Aly and Heim, Vordenker der Vernichtung, 330–339; Gerlach, Kalkulierte Morde; Ingo Haar, “Bevölkerungspolitik im Generalgouvernement: Nationalitäten-, Juden- und Siedlungspolitik im Spannungsfeld regionaler und zentraler Initiativen,” in Der Judenmord in den eingegliederten polnischen Gebieten 1939–1945, ed. Jacek Andrzej Młynarczyk and Jochen Böhler (Osnabrück: Fibre, 2010). 85 See Safet Bandžović, “Ratovi i demografska deosmanizacija Balkana (1912.–1941.),” Prilozi 32 (2003); Janjetović, Deca careva, 62–72, 224–225, and 326–331; Edvin Pezo, Zwangsmigration in Friedenszeiten? Jugoslawische Migrationspolitik und die Auswanderung von Muslimen in die Türkei (1918 bis 1966) (Munich: Oldenbourg, 2013). 86 As leading Romanian demographer, Manuilă (1894–1964) was known at the international level; e.g., he was one of the vice presidents of the international congress for population science in Berlin 1935. He had significant influence on the population policy in Romania. For Manuilă’s life and work, see i.a. Viorel Achim, s.v. “Sabin Manuilă,” in Handbuch der völkischen Wissenschaften: Personen, Institutionen, Forschungsprogramme, Stiftungen, ed. Ingo Haar and Michael Fahlbusch (Munich: Saur, 2008). For his cooperation with German researchers, e.g., with Friedrich Burgdörfer, see Viorel Achim, “Romanian-German Collaboration in Ethnopolitics: The Case of Sabin Manuilă,” in German scholars and ethnic cleansing, 1919–1945, ed. Ingo Haar and Michael Fahlbusch (New York: Berghahn, 2006). 87 Sabin Manuilă, “Les problèmes démographiques en Transylvanie,” in Studies on the Historical Demography of Romania, ed. Sorina Bolovan and Ioan Bolovan (Cluj-Napoca: Center for Transylvanian Studies, 1992 [1934]), 38–40; see Achim, “RomanianGerman Collaboration,” 141. 88 Sabin Manuilă, “Demografia rurală a României,” in Problemele sanitare ale populaţiei rurale din România, ed. George Banu (Bucharest: Göbl, 1940), 170; for the minority question in Transylvania during the Second World War, see i.a. Holly Case, Between States: The Transylvanian Question and the European Idea during World War II (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2009). 89 Bogumil Andrašević, “Die Wirtschaftspolitik des Unabhängigen Staates Kroatien,” Ostraum-Berichte NF, no. 3 (1942): 323; for the expulsion of the Serb population from the NDH, see i.a. Alexander Korb, Im Schatten des Weltkriegs: Massengewalt der Ustaša gegen Serben, Juden und Roma in Kroatien, 1941–1945 (Hamburg: Hamburger Edition, 2013). 90 Stojanov, “Novijat stopanski red,” 158; for the migrations between Bulgaria and Greece before and after the Second World War, see Theodora Dragostinova, Between Two Motherlands: Nationality and Emigration Among the Greeks of Bulgaria, 1900– 1949 (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2011).

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“Population pressure” and development models  171 ———. “Sabin Manuilă.” In Handbuch der völkischen Wissenschaften: Personen, Institutionen, Forschungsprogramme, Stiftungen, edited by Ingo Haar and Michael Fahlbusch, 397–402. Munich: Saur, 2008. Aly, Götz, and Susanne Heim. Vordenker der Vernichtung: Auschwitz und die deutschen Pläne für eine neue europäische Ordnung. Frankfurt am Main: Fischer, 2013 [1991]. Andrašević, Bogumil. “Die Wirtschaftspolitik des Unabhängigen Staates Kroatien.” Ostraum-Berichte NF, no. 3 (1942): 317–339. Baloutzova, Svetla. Demography and Nation: Social Legislation and Population Policy in Bulgaria, 1918–1944. Budapest: CEU Press, 2011. Bandžović, Safet. “Ratovi i demografska deosmanizacija Balkana (1912.–1941.).” Prilozi 32 (2003): 179–229. Bashford, Alison. “Nation, Empire, Globe: The Spaces of Population Debate in the Interwar Years.” Comparative Studies in Society and History 49, no. 1 (2007): 170–201. Bethke, Carl. Deutsche und ungarische Minderheiten in Kroatien und der Vojvodina 1918– 1941: Identitätsentwürfe und ethnopolitische Mobilisierung. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2009. Bićanić, Rudolf. Agrarna prenapučenost. Zagreb: Gospodarska sloga, 1940. ———. “Central European Stability and Yugoslavia.” Journal of Central European Affairs 3, no. 1 (1943): 24–37. Bohn, Thomas. “Bulgariens Rolle im ‘wirtschaftlichen’ Ergänzungsraum: Hintergründe für den Beitritt zum Dreimächtepakt am 1. März 1941.” In Besatzung und Bündnis: Deutsche Herrschaftsstrategien in Ost- und Südosteuropa, edited by Christoph Dieckmann, Matthias Hamann, Susanne Heim, Horst Kahrs, and Ahlrich Meyer, 111–138. Berlin: Verlag der Buchläden Schwarze Risse/Rote Strasse, 1995. Brinkmann, Carl. “Mihail Manoïlesco und die klassische Außenhandelstheorie.” Weltwirtschaftliches Archiv 48, no. 2 (1938): 273–287. ———. “Das Problem der agraren Übervölkerung in Europa.” Der Forschungsdienst, special issue no. 18 (1943): 57–67. Burgdörfer, Friedrich. Volk ohne Jugend. Berlin: Vowinckel, 1932. Case, Holly. Between states: The Transylvanian question and the European idea during World War II. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2009. Dieckmann, Christoph. “Wirtschaftsforschung für den Großraum: Zur Theorie und Praxis des Kieler Instituts für Weltwirtschaft und des Hamburger Welt-Wirtschafts-Archivs im ‘Dritten Reich.’ ” In Modelle für ein deutsches Europa: Ökonomie und Herrschaft im Großwirtschaftsraum, edited by Götz Aly, Christoph Dieckmann, Michael G. Esch, Matthias Hamann, H.D. Heilmann, Susanne Heim, Horst Kahrs, and Ahlrich Meyer, 146–198. Berlin: Rotbuch-Verlag, 1992. Dragostinova, Theodora. Between Two Motherlands: Nationality and Emigration Among the Greeks of Bulgaria, 1900–1949. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2011. Drews, Joachim. Die “Nazi-Bohne”: Anbau, Verwendung und Auswirkung der Sojabohne im Deutschen Reich und Südosteuropa (1933–1945). Münster: LIT, 2004. Ehmer, Josef. “Migration und Bevölkerung  – Zur Kritik eines Erklärungsmodells.” Tel Aviver Jahrbuch für deutsche Geschichte 27 (1998): 5–29. ———. “ ‘Nationalsozialistische Bevölkerungspolitik’ in der neuen historischen Forschung.” In Bevölkerungslehre und Bevölkerungspolitik im “Dritten Reich,” edited by Rainer Mackensen, 21–44. Opladen: Leske + Budrich, 2004. Etzemüller, Thomas. Ein ewigwährender Untergang: Der apokalyptische Bevölkerungsdiskurs im 20. Jahrhundert. Bielefeld: Transcript, 2007. Fisher, A. G. B. “Nicholas Mirkovich (1915–1944).” The Economic Journal 56, no. 223 (1946): 510–511.

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9 Educating the “intellectual army”1 of the “New Europe”? Foreign students and academic exchange in Nazi Germany Holger Impekoven In the autumn of 1940, the NS-Studentenbund (Nazi Student League) published a special issue of its Hochschulblatt (Journal for Higher Education Institutions) entitled “Ausländische Studenten im Reich” (“Foreign students in the Reich”). The glossy magazine contained a preface by Foreign Minister Joachim von Ribbentrop and numerous reports from international students about their positive experience at German universities. The Hochschulblatt issue is an excellent example of a series of similar propaganda publications from the same period. Foreign students were depicted as “carriers of international understanding” (Träger der Verständigung), whereby “understanding” primarily meant “support for Germany and its struggle.”2 The students were portrayed as “comrades” of their German counterparts “in combat and study.”3 According to Studentenführer (Student Leader) Gustav Adolf Scheel’s article in the same issue, German and foreign students were united by a common goal: namely, “the implementation and enforcement of the ideas . . . of a new, reasonable and just order in Europe and the world.”4 Hence, German universities would become host institutions of an intellectual army (geistige Wehr) that would not only “guarantee the final victory (Endsieg)” but also help establish “the new European order.”5 This message was illustrated by numerous photographs depicting foreign students in lab or classroom situations alongside their German comrades in field-grey uniforms.6 The Hochschulblatt also included an article by SS Brigadier Ewald von Massow, the president of the German Academic Exchange Service (Deutscher Akade­ mischer Austauschdienst, or DAAD). Von Massow proudly pointed out that the academic exchange between Germany and other countries in Europe had not been terminated after 1 September 1939, but, on the contrary, had since undergone a major expansion.7 As unexpected or even paradoxical as this may initially seem, and despite the propagandistic character of the Hochschulblatt, von Massow’s success story was, at least quantitatively, correct. While many argue international academic exchange came to a halt during the war, international students continued to study in Germany, in some places until the very last weeks of the war.8 Furthermore, these students were not only tolerated, but even actively recruited and generously funded by the German authorities. This chapter describes how and why academic exchange was fostered in Nazi Germany, even and especially during the war. In doing so, I will first analyze the

Educating the “intellectual army”?  177 activities directed towards three different regions of the German sphere of influence. I will argue that the recruitment of students from Southeastern Europe on the one hand, and from Northwestern Europe and “the East” on the other hand, differed substantially both in the measures taken, as well as in the intentions behind them. In the second part of this chapter, I ask who the alleged members of the “intellectual army” actually were and attempt to explore why students chose to study in Germany during the war. In this context I will also look at the students’ experience in wartime Germany and show how this experience matched with, or contradicted, their original expectations.9 Finally, I discuss the significance of my findings for our understanding of the German concepts of the “new European order” (Europäische Neuordnung), their significance, and limitations.

Scholarships When von Massow wrote his article in 1940, granting scholarships and fee waivers to international students at German universities was still a rather new phenomenon. The DAAD, the most important funding agency for academic exchange in Germany, had been founded only fifteen years before, in 1925. Even in the years of the Weimar Republic, the rationale behind fostering academic exchange had not been idealistic internationalism, but rather German nationalism and revisionism. The goal was to overcome German isolation, a lasting result of World War I, by fostering academic exchange, and to restore Germany’s position in the world. Therefore, in 1933, the Nazis did not find it difficult to continue to expand the existing activities in the field of foreign cultural policy, including awarding scholarships to foreign students. Those in charge of academic exchange contributed to the relatively smooth transition through their willingness to cooperate with the new authorities. Most of them, such as Adolf Morsbach, the executive director of the DAAD, were not internationalists, but nationalists who supported the revisionist aspects of the Nazis’ foreign policy agenda and wanted to foster Germany’s return to international power.10 As von Massow correctly noted in his article, the number of scholarships for foreign students in Germany continued to grow even after 1 September  1939. While only 430 scholarships had been disbursed in 1938, more than 800 foreign students received a German scholarship for the academic year 1940, accounting for almost 35 percent of a foreign student population of 2,319. Indeed, the number of scholarships would again more than double in the next two years. By now a total of 2.5 million Reichsmarks were spent on grants for more than 1,750 foreign students. Where did these students come from, and why was Germany funding them? Collaboration – scholarships for students from Southeastern Europe Almost half of the German scholarships were awarded to students from Southeastern Europe. Students from Bulgaria formed the largest group; those from Hungary and Romania – German allies like Bulgaria – were also strongly represented. However, it was not so much – or at least not only – their home countries’ status

178  Holger Impekoven as allies that determined the large number of scholarships awarded. Instead, there was a long tradition in German geopolitical thinking of considering Southeastern Europe as a German “hinterland.”11 Consequently, Bulgarians had formed the largest group of scholarship holders since the introduction of a German state grant system in 1925. In the mid-1930s, the Mitteleuropäische Wirtschaftstag (MWT)12 started to make additional funds available to the DAAD to award even more scholarships to Southeastern European students. Tilo Freiherr von Wilmowsky, chairman of the MWT, justified this commitment by arguing that Southeastern European countries “are not Germanophile just like that,” but that their attitude was rather based on a “certain fear of the all-powerful Germany.”13 Therefore, cultural diplomacy and scholarships constituted, according to Wilmowsky, a prerequisite for the establishment of a European economic bloc (Europäische Großraumwirtschaft). This effort was continued during the war, when the MWT eventually contributed about 500,000 Reichsmarks per year for student grants  – one-fifth of the aforementioned 2.5 million in annual scholarship funds. The money was used – to name one example – for financing fee waivers and full scholarships for participants of the Südostkurse at the University of World Trade (Hochschule für Welthandel) in Vienna. In the Südostkurs held in the summer of 1943, some 150 scholarship holders learned, according to the Belgrade Donauzeitung, “not only to speak German, but  .  .  . also to think and feel German.” These courses’ and scholarships’ objectives were obvious: recruiting local elites who should guarantee German domination in Southeastern Europe and – again according to the Donauzeitung – build the “pan-European economic bloc of tomorrow.”14 In the case of the satellite states of Croatia and Slovakia, as well as in occupied Greece and Serbia, the political basis of the scholarships was equally evident: They practically became an instrument of a Nazi version of “nation-building.” Students from these countries were to be educated at German universities to compensate as quickly as possible for the “acute lack of an adequately educated workforce for all areas of public life and the economy.”15 The conditions for exchanging old elites with new pro-German ones were probably best in Croatia. Many Ustaša leaders (including Foreign Minister Mladen Lorković) had studied in Germany during the late 1920s and early 1930s with scholarships from the Alexander von Humboldt Foundation. Nevertheless, the Germans found a sufficient number of suitable candidates in occupied Serbia as well, especially among student members of the fascist Zbor movement who had “proven themselves in the rebuilding of the country, in its pacification and cooperation with Germany.” As the Germans frankly admitted, the scholarships these students received were merit-based in a very particular meaning of the word: Academic qualification ought to play “no decisive role” in choosing the right candidates, but rather the “merits acquired in the fight against communist partisans.”16 In the context of such “nation-building,” a significant shift could be observed regarding the subjects that scholarship holders would study in Germany. Doctors and engineers were in high demand in Hitler’s “New Europe.” Therefore, while students from the humanities had been previously overrepresented (based on the assumption that they would be more likely to pursue a career in politics or the

Educating the “intellectual army”?  179 public sector, and could then serve as political ambassadors for Germany), the Germans now clearly preferred applicants from disciplines like agricultural science, medicine, and engineering. For example, in Romania, scholarships for engineering students were sponsored by the state-led Kontinentale Öl-Aktiengesellschaft (Continental Oil Corporation). The students were to be trained at the Bergakademie (Mining Academy) of Freiberg in Saxony and the Technical University of Hannover, before returning to their home countries to help uphold the oil production that a self-sustaining “New Europe” – as well as German tanks – would need.17 This shift from the humanities to the applied sciences and medicine was even stronger in the occupied territories and the satellite states, and became particularly evident in Greece. Already before the war, Greek students had formed the secondlargest group among all scholars. During the German occupation, the number of scholarships continued to be high, but the scholars’ academic background changed significantly. While prior to April 1941, students of all disciplines had come to Germany, scholarships were now primarily awarded “to train suitable professionals for certain areas immediately and urgently needed in the course of the conversion of the Greek economy”: in particular “fish farming and fish conservation, agricultural science and soil improvement and relevant specialized areas of animal breeding.”18 Despite the aggressive German cultural penetration of the European southeast, however, German measures ultimately remained within the realm of traditional cultural policy as a means to underpin hegemonic power. The approach taken was neither specifically völkisch (in the sense of being influenced by racist ideology) nor particularly new. Essentially, it was the same “soft power” approach many great powers had followed. If the method bears no specific characteristics of National Socialism, the same could be said for the objectives. Although the expansion of German scholarships in Southeastern Europe was clearly meant to underpin the Reich’s political and economic hegemony, this cultural imperialism – as obvious and aggressive as it was – was not necessarily a Nazi invention. In fact, it was largely based upon a long tradition of German attempts to build an (at least informal) empire in Southeastern Europe.19 “Germanization” – scholarships in Northwestern Europe and the Baltics While German cultural policy towards Southeastern Europe can hardly be called “völkisch,” things looked different in the occupied Baltic States, in Belgium, the Netherlands, Denmark, and Norway. In these countries, the “soft power” approach was soon supplemented, and then substituted, by new measures: In the Reichskommissariat Ostland, and in the so-called Germanic Northwest, scholarships became an instrument of racial and ethnic policies. Population engineers of the SS designed new scholarship policies for these occupied territories and replaced conventional cultural diplomacy with the principle of “ethnic transformation” (Umvolkung) and “Germanization” (Eindeutschung).20 One of them was Dr. Hans Ehlich, the head of Group III B in the Reich Security Main Office

180  Holger Impekoven (Reichssicherheitshauptamt, RSHA), responsible for ethnicity (Volkstum). Ehlich belonged to the group of young and academically educated SS-men who were involved in drafting the notorious General Plan for the East (Generalplan Ost). In this context, he also developed elaborate views on the future character and function of academic exchange. For Ehlich, recruiting reliable collaborators was not enough and not even the main goal. Instead, he regarded studying in Germany as a catalyst for ethnic conversion. The education of foreign students should serve the Nazi’s search for “racially valuable” men and women, who were “suitable to merge into the German people.”21 Ehlich’s racial phantasmagoria were cast into concrete measures by Dr. Erhard Wetzel, the secretary for racial policies in the Reich Ministry for the Occupied Eastern Territories (Reichsministerium für die besetzten Ostgebiete) and another important contributor to the General Plan for the East. Between July 1942 and February 1943, Wetzel designed an extensive scholarship program for Baltic students, for which his Ministry eventually made available up to one million Reichsmarks, sufficiently adding to the amount Germany had spent on scholarships for foreign students the year before (mentioned previously).22 A first group of thirty students from Estonia and Latvia rapidly took up their studies in the summer semester of 1943. In the following winter semester, their number rose to more than 200, and included eighty-six students from Lithuania. In order to accelerate their Germanization even further, Wetzel added a set of accompanying supportive measures to the existing, and quite sophisticated, racial selection process: The students were to take up anthropological studies in the Reich so that they should become aware of the “blood link between their people and the German people.”23 “By such treatment,” Wetzel declared, these selected members of the Baltic elite would either be successfully “germanized” or at least be “rendered harmless” for Germany by elimination from their home countries.24 Similar ideological goals gradually replaced conventional cultural policy approaches in the occupied “Germanic Northwest” as well.25 In Belgium, the Netherlands, and Norway, Himmler’s Ahnenerbe think-tank took over the mission to reawaken the supposedly buried “Reich consciousness” and to bring about “the reunification of the people of Germanic blood.”26 For this purpose, the Ahnenerbe tried to reach out to students and junior academic staff with programs comparable to those that the Reich Ministry for the Occupied Eastern Territories had implemented in the Baltic States. Furthermore, the programs for the Northwest and the planning context in the East were closely linked. The Ahnenerbe awarded scholarships for Norwegian students to study at the Reichsuniversität in Posen (Poznań), which the Nazis saw playing an important role as an “intellectual bastion” in the East. The “Ostraum,” on the other hand, should not only attract German settlers, but, according to Himmler’s plans, other Germanic peoples as well, most notably the Dutch and the Norwegians. Consequently, Poznań became the ideal location for members of the “volksgermanische” academic elite to study the “practical questions” of the colonization of the East.27 The scholarship programs for the Ostland and the “Germanic Northwest” originated in the “hour of experts” (M. Burleigh) – when people like Ehlich and Wetzel developed their particular vision of a “New Europe” that would be “defined by

Educating the “intellectual army”?  181 blood.”28 After the war, former members of the Ministry for the Occupied Eastern Territories liked to point out that, as of 1944, the Germans started to award additional scholarships to Crimean Tatars and other Eastern peoples who had previously been considered “racially inferior.”29 In fact, there had merely been a brief revival of Rosenberg’s “decomposition policy,” and measures were introduced that were based more on military necessity than racial ideology. Yet it is important to emphasize that these measures were explicitly labeled “temporary” (i.e., to help until the Endsieg) and were solely based on tactical reasoning. Contrary to the self-exculpatory post-war accounts by former members of the Nazi state, racist ideology still lay at the core of “academic exchange” in the East, even after the war’s course had clearly changed. The scholarship programs aiming at the students’ “Germanization” were continued until March 1945, when despite the turmoil of a dissolving Nazi state, Baltic students at the University of Marburg still received their scholarship money by postal check.30 This was also true for the “Germanic Northwest,” where the SS intensified its efforts. Even after the Allies had landed at the coast of Normandy, the SS established the Germanisches Begabtenwerk (Germanic Organization for Gifted Students) into which all volksgermanische students  – a group of approximately 400 students from Flanders, Wallonia, the Netherlands, and Norway – were to be integrated.31

Students Foreign cultural policy is not a “one-way street,” and scholarships were rarely forced upon students. Therefore, it must be asked whether the foreign students who voluntarily came to Germany during the war really were the willing participants in the establishment of a “New Europe” under Nazi auspices that were depicted in German propaganda. Did their time in Germany turn them into collaborators? Was studying in Germany proof of ideological consent to fascism or Nazism? Even though it is much harder to reconstruct students’ motives and expectations when compared to determining the intentions of their German sponsors, I will attempt to briefly identify certain patterns that emerge in the few available sources.32 Motivations First, it should be noted that the motivation to study in Germany was often not necessarily, at least not primarily, a political one. For many students from Eastern and Southeastern Europe studying in Germany was a stepping stone for an academic career back home. There were even veritable family traditions of sons (and increasingly daughters) studying at the same German universities as their fathers.33 This tradition of academic migration continued even during the war, as the long-standing reputation of German universities and scientists still attracted foreign students. On the other hand, there can be no doubt that many students that handed in their application (to an office at the German embassy or consulate, or to the occupation

182  Holger Impekoven authorities), were sympathizers of Nazi Germany and the “New Europe,” and supported Germany’s hegemonic role in it. However, this support could have different backgrounds and motivations. For students from Zbor or other fascist movements in Europe, political agreement on questions such as the “Bolshevik threat,” or the challenges of “Western plutocracy,” certainly played an important role. Yet it also seems that the core of Nazi ideology, the concept of race and “Germanization,” in fact, had some appeal to students from the “Germanic Northwest” and the Baltic States, who, in many cases, had worked for the SS before receiving their scholarships. The general agreement with the Nazis’ racist ideology became obvious in some students’ “scientific” interests as well. For example, Erik Hug, a medical student from Switzerland, stated in his application that only in Germany he could find an ideal environment to conduct “comparative studies on human races,” as well as “the adequate resources to do research on twins.”34 However, beyond these cases, there was also more general support for Germany and its role in Europe. Contemporary accounts show that the “new European order” was, at least temporarily, a “mobilizing vision” (W. Loth)35 for many students. The question of what the new European order would look like was a burning question for all European academics, at least when Germany seemed destined to win the war. When the German Scientific Institute (Deutsches Wissenschaftliches Institut) in Bucharest established a German-Romanian Studienkreis (study circle), more than a hundred Romanian alumni signed up for the first meeting in order to “discuss the problems of the time”: that is, the reorganization of Europe.36 For many students, the “new European order” became a projection screen for their individual expectations, despite – or even because of – the very general information on its true nature. In the eyes of nationalistic Slovak or Croatian students, for example, a German-led “New Europe” opened up a range of opportunities, both for themselves and for their home countries. It is therefore hardly surprising that they were attracted to Germany politically as well as academically. Limitations Support for Germany did not mean, however, that those students were blind followers of the Reich. As Bela Bodó has pointed out, the students’ own “strong nationalist sentiments, ironically enough, increased their distrust of the Nazis,” even among members of the fascist movements.37 This effect was amplified when the students’ high hopes for the “new European order” remained unfulfilled  – which was particularly the case with Ukrainian students.38 The German Foreign Office had supported Ukrainian nationalists with scholarships since the mid-1920s to destabilize Poland, Germany’s new neighbor to the East. After the invasion of Poland on 1 September 1939, German support was intensified, with the goal of educating collaborators who could help secure German rule in the Generalgouvernement. For two years, until the autumn of 1941, Ukrainian students believed that they would live on the “sunny side” of the “New Europe.” However, after the “war for race and space” gained its full momentum following the launch of Operation Barbarossa, the situation changed dramatically.39 In November 1941, it

Educating the “intellectual army”?  183 was determined that the “education of a Ukrainian intelligentsia” was henceforth “undesired.” Those students who had already taken up their studies in Germany were allowed to stay on. However, no further students were to be admitted, nor were scholarships to be paid.40 This was the first result of the new völkisch cultural policy in the East. Instead of being seen as potential collaborators, Ukrainian students now found themselves on the wrong end of a spectrum measuring their “racial value.” On the opposite end stood, as we have seen, those Baltic students who were considered suitable for Germanization. It was hardly surprising that, in early November 1942, Himmler’s “Security Service” (Sicherheitsdienst, SD) noted a “fundamental change” in the attitude of Ukrainian students towards Germany: Their “initial affirmative conduct” had “largely changed in the course of the war” and been “replaced by an anti-German attitude” which was “displayed more or less openly.” Ukrainian students had turned from “supporters of Germany into its enemies.” It is obvious that this change of attitude was the result of a failed occupation policy and disappointed national aspirations on the Ukrainian side. However, the SD report only alluded to this fact between the lines. Quite cynically, the report blamed the Ukrainian students for putting their hopes in the “objectives of the Reich . . . as they believed they could recognize them.”41 The mobilizing vision of a “new European order” and the Ukrainian expectations attached to it had clashed with reality. The disillusionment was often amplified by another experience that many foreign students in Germany shared during the war: the inherent and irresolvable paradox of being fremdvölkisch (of alien ethnicity) in a political system based on a racist, völkisch ideology. Despite all the propaganda stressing the harmony between German and foreign students, the latter often faced fundamental distrust. They were permanently monitored, not only by the SD, but also by student functionaries from the NS-Studentenbund who ran the Akademische Auslandsstelle (International Office) at their universities. In astonishing regularity, the SD’s “Reports from the Reich” accused foreign students of a general Deutschfeind­ lichkeit (hostility towards Germany), communist intrigues, espionage, or sexual intercourse with German women (whose husbands, to make it even worse, were fighting in the East) and so-called Rassenschande (racial defilement). The hardliners of the NSDAP Office of Racial Policy (Rassepolitisches Amt der NSDAP) were even convinced that “each foreign student leaves a half-breed behind.”42 Ironically, the SD was especially suspicious of students from countries that were at the same time the particular focus of German cultural policy: Bulgarians, for example, were generally regarded as “communists and quite anti-German.” Norwegian students were accused of being “clearly anti-German,” and female students from Estonia, despite their alleged racial adequacy, were blamed for behaving “un-German” by wearing too much make-up.43 It is difficult to estimate the extent as to which the SD’s accounts give an accurate picture of the students’ attitude towards their host country, but they clearly reveal a considerable degree of German xenophobia that helped contribute to conflict during academic exchange in Nazi Germany. Nevertheless, many students’ attitudes towards the Reich also changed as their expectations for the “New

184  Holger Impekoven Europe” met with reality. The Ukrainian students were but one example. Lutz Mackensen, guest professor for German Studies at Ghent, described the Belgian students’ attitudes towards Germany as being “strongly dependent on . . . food issues and the situation on the fronts.”44 Even if the SD’s sweeping complaints have to be viewed critically, they do seem to indicate that studying in Germany often turned out to be a kind of a political and ideological litmus test. When the once-cherished hopes for a “New Europe” were replaced by disillusionment, initial sympathy could turn into outright hostility.

Conclusion The purpose of this chapter was to analyze how and why Nazi Germany awarded scholarships to students from its sphere of influence in the years 1939–1945. As we have seen, there existed two types of “academic exchange” and German cultural policy during the war. On the one hand, there was a “traditional” foreign cultural policy approach supporting Germany’s quest for economic and political hegemony by recruiting doctors, engineers, and politically reliable collaborators in general. On the other hand, there was a new form of National Socialist or völkisch cultural policy, which derived its objectives from a racist ideology. This was not foreign cultural policy in the original meaning of the word, but an entirely different phenomenon. Measures so far attributed to a subfield of foreign policy were developed into instruments of racial policies. While the “traditional” scholarships were merit-based (even though, as we have seen, academic merit was increasingly replaced by political or military merit), the new völkisch scholarships were “blood-based.” A racial elite was to be formed, not collaborators to be won. This distinction allows us to draw some conclusions about the greater picture of the “new European order.” It can be argued that the two different modes of “academic exchange” corresponded with and reflected the two models of the “New Europe” or  – more precisely  – the two parts into which it was divided. One part was Southeastern Europe, the so-called Ergänzungsraum (“complementary space”), which was important for the Nazis for economic reasons. In this part of the “New Europe” Germany acted as a brutal, but nevertheless “conventional” imperial hegemon  – with corresponding measures, including traditional approaches to foreign cultural policy. The other part was the Großgermanisches Reich (“Greater Germanic Empire”) of the future, ranging from Northern France to the Baltic States and beyond, the Lebensraum (“living space”) for Germanic people. This part of the “New Europe” was – in Hitler’s terminology – “defined by blood,” and here the classical means of underpinning hegemony were substituted by the instrument of “Germanization.”45 This chapter has also shown that, for the students who came to Germany, the “New Europe” was not just a “propaganda bluff” (P. Longerich).46 Rather, it was a “mobilizing vision,” a projection screen for the students’ own expectations and even a reality since, as we have seen, the German concepts of a “new European order” crystallized in the scholarship programs. However, as we have also seen,

Educating the “intellectual army”?  185 these concepts differed substantially both from the official propaganda picture, as well as from most students’ actual hopes and expectations. It was this reality of the “New Europe” that led to an inherent conflict, which, more often than not, was amplified when the students who were alleged “comrades,” and considered “racially valuable,” were met with blatant xenophobia by their German hosts. Despite the considerable recruitment pool, therefore, the “intellectual army” of the “New Europe” in fact never materialized.

Notes 1 “Geistige Wehr,” whereby “Wehr” can also mean “defense.” However, I have chosen to use “army” here, as it highlights the military connotation of the word (as in Reichs­ wehr, the German word for the German army 1919–1935) and because it was certainly the meaning favored by the Nazis during the wartime years. Translating Nazi vocabulary from the “Dictionary of Inhumanity” (Dolf Sternberger) into the English language frequently causes difficulties. Therefore, the original German wording has been kept in the text or added in the notes wherever necessary or appropriate. 2 Hochschulblatt 16, no. 3/4 (1940), spec. ed.: “Ausländische Studenten im Reich,” 3–4. 3 Ibid., 62. 4 Ibid., 36. 5 Ibid., 64. 6 Ibid., 77. 7 Ibid., 45–47. 8 See for example: Volkhard Laitenberger, Akademischer Austausch und auswärtige Kulturpolitik 1923–1945 (Göttingen: Musterschmidt, 1976), 156; Christian Jansen, Exzellenz weltweit: Die Alexander von Humboldt-Stiftung zwischen Wissenschaftsförderung und auswärtiger Kulturpolitik (1953–2003) (Cologne: Dumont, 2004), 44. One of the first to emphasize the extent of German activities in the field of academic exchange during the war (and quoted here) was: Frank-Rutger Hausmann, “Auch im Krieg schweigen die Musen nicht”: Die Deutschen Wissenschaftlichen Institute im Zweiten Weltkrieg (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2001), 13. 9 This chapter summarizes key findings of my dissertation on academic exchange in the context of German foreign cultural policy in the years 1925–1945. For a detailed account of Germany’s activities during these years see: Holger Impekoven, Die Alexander von Humboldt-Stiftung und das Ausländerstudium in Deutschland 1925–1945: Von der “geräuschlosen Propaganda” zur Ausbildung der “geistigen Wehr” des “Neuen Europa” (Göttingen: V&R unipress, 2013). 10 Morsbach, however, collaborated in vain. He was arrested on June 30, 1934, in the context of the so-called Röhm-Putsch, and was consequently removed from his position: Impekoven, Die Alexander von Humboldt-Stiftung, 170–178. See also: Patrick Wagner, “Forschungsförderung auf der Basis eines nationalen Konsenses: Die Deutsche Forschungsgemeinschaft am Ende der Weimarer Republik und im Nationalsozialismus,” in Gebrochene Wissenschaftskulturen: Universitäten und Politik im 20. Jahrhundert, ed. Michael Grüttner et al. (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2010). 11 Klaus Thörner, “Der ganze Südosten ist unser Hinterland”: Deutsche Südosteuropapläne von 1840 bis 1945 (Freiburg: ça ira, 2008); Carl Freytag, Deutschlands “Drang nach Südosten”: Der Mitteleuropäische Wirtschaftstag und der “Ergänzungsraum Südosteuropa” 1931–1945 (Göttingen: V&R unipress, 2012). 12 See Freytag, Deutschlands “Drang nach Südosten,” 223–226 and the contribution by Markus Wien in this volume. 13 Quoted in Manfred Asendorf, “Ulrich von Hassells Europakonzeption und der MEWT,” Jahrbuch des Instituts für deutsche Geschichte, 7 (1978): 403.

186  Holger Impekoven 14 Donauzeitung Belgrad, July  28, 1943, quoted in Erich Siebert, “Die Rolle der Kultur- und Wissenschaftspolitik bei der Expansion des deutschen Imperialismus nach Bulgarien, Jugoslawien, Rumänien und Ungarn in den Jahren 1938–1944: Mit einem Blick auf die vom westdeutschen Imperialismus wiederaufgenommene Kulturpolitik” (PhD diss., Humboldt University, 1971), 251. 15 Annual Report of the Deutsches Studienwerk für Ausländer for the year 1941/42, 22, Archives of the Mining Academy and University of Technology, Freiberg in Saxony (Archiv der Technischen Universität Bergakademie Freiberg), Hu 103. 16 Annual Report of the Deutsches Studienwerk für Ausländer (as n. 15), 19; Letter from Deutsches Studienwerk für Ausländer to International Office (Akademische Auslandsstelle) at the University of Jena, November 23, 1942, University Archives, Jena (Universitätsarchiv Jena), U Abt. II, Nr. 31. 17 Annual Report of the Deutsches Studienwerk für Ausländer (as n. 15), 8, 16. 18 Ibid., 20. 19 Hans-Jürgen Schröder, “Südosteuropa als ‘Informal Empire’ Deutschlands 1933– 1939: Das Beispiel Jugoslawien,” Jahrbücher für Geschichte Osteuropas 23 (1975). 20 For a detailed account see: Impekoven, Die Alexander von Humboldt-Stiftung, 331–367. 21 Vertraulicher Bericht der Reichsstudentenführung (Confidential Report of the Reich Student Leadership), Nr. 1, March 31, 1943, Federal Archives Berlin (Bundesarchiv Berlin, BArch Berlin), R 4901/13160, fol. 9. 22 Secret Memorandum of the Führungsstab Politik of the Reich Ministry for the Occupied Eastern Territories, October 10, 1943, BArch Berlin, R 6/105, fol. 32. 23 Memorandum by Wetzel, March 17, 1943, BArch Berlin, R 6/160. 24 Czesław Madajczyk, ed., Vom Generalplan Ost zum Generalsiedlungsplan: Dokumente (Munich: De Gruyter, 1994), 59 (doc. 16); “bei einer derartigen Behandlung . . . für den Bereich der Baltenländer unschädlich gemacht.” 25 For a detailed account see: Impekoven, Die Alexander von Humboldt-Stiftung, 368–381. 26 Michael Kater, Das “Ahnenerbe” der SS 1935–1945: Ein Beitrag zur Kulturpolitik des Dritten Reiches, 2nd revised ed. (Munich: Oldenbourg, 1997); Peter Longerich, Heinrich Himmler: Biographie (Munich: Siedler, 2008), 637. 27 Madajczyk, Vom Generalplan Ost zum Generalsiedlungsplan, XIII; Kater, Das “Ahnenerbe” der SS, 285; Michael Burleigh, Germany Turns Eastwards: A Study of Ostforschung in the Third Reich (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988), 290–294. 28 Michael Burleigh, “Die Stunde der Experten,” in Der “Generalplan Ost”: Hauptlinien der nationalsozialistischen Planungs- und Vernichtungspolitik, ed. Mechthild Rössler and Sabine Schleiermacher (Berlin: Akademie-Verlag, 1993), 346; Henry Picker, Hitlers Tischgespräche im Führerhauptquartier 1941–1942, ed. Percy Ernst Schramm (Stuttgart: Seewald, 1963), 19. 29 Constantin Graf Stamati, “Zur ‘Kulturpolitik’ des Ostministeriums,” Vierteljahrshefte für Zeitgeschichte 6, no. 1 (1958). 30 Accounts of the International Office (Akademische Auslandsstelle) at the University of Marburg, March 5, 1945, Hessian State Archives, Marburg (Hessisches Staatsarchiv, HStAM), 305a/Acc. 1954/16, Nr. 206. 31 Circular No. 8 of the Deutsche Studienwerk für Ausländer, June 27, 1944, University Archives, Jena (Universitätsarchiv Jena), U Abt. II, Nr. 29. 32 Holger Impekoven, “Deutsche Wissenschaft von außen beurteilt – Überlegungen zur Attraktivität deutscher Universitäten und Hochschulen für ausländische Wissenschaftler und Studenten (1933–1945),” in Universitäten und Studenten im Dritten Reich: Bejahung, Anpassung, Widerstand, ed. Joachim Scholtyseck and Christoph Studt (Berlin: LIT, 2008). 33 Victor Karady, “La migration internationale d’étudiants en Europe, 1890–1940,” Actes de la recherche en sciences sociales 145 (2002).

Educating the “intellectual army”?  187 34 Letter from the Deutsches Studienwerk für Ausländer to German Embassy Bern, September 17, 1942, Political Archive of the Federal Foreign Office, Berlin (Politisches Archiv des Auswärtigen Amts, PA AA), RAV Bern 3420. 35 Wilfried Loth, “Rettungsanker Europa? Deutsche Europa-Konzeptionen vom Dritten Reich bis zur Bundesrepublik,” in Ende des Dritten Reiches: Ende des Zweiten Weltkrieges, ed. Hans-Erich Volkmann (Munich: Piper, 1995), 201. 36 Hausmann, “Auch im Krieg schweigen die Musen nicht,” 62. 37 Bela Bodó, “Foreign Students in Nazi Germany,” East European Quarterly 37, no. 1 (2003): 26. 38 For the following see: Impekoven, Die Alexander von Humboldt-Stiftung, 331–344. 39 Klaus Hildebrand, Das vergangene Reich: Deutsche Außenpolitik von Bismarck bis Hitler 1871–1945 (Berlin: Ullstein, 1999) [paperback; first published 1995], 843. 40 Protocol of a meeting regarding Ukrainian students, held in the Reich Education Ministry on November 24, 1941, BArch Berlin, R 6/340. 41 Meldungen aus dem Reich, November 2, 1942, BArch Berlin, R 58/177. 42 NSDAP, Rassenpolitisches Amt (Wetzel) to the Foreign Office, July 9, 1942, PA AA, R 99175, fol. 52. 43 Meldungen aus dem Reich, October 23, 1941, BArch Berlin, R 58/165, fol. 164–166. 44 Quoted in Dirk Martin, De Rijksuniversiteit Gent tijdens de bezetting 1940–1944: Leven met de vijand (Gent: Archief RUG, 1985), 169. 45 Picker, Hitlers Tischgespräche, 19. 46 Peter Longerich, Propagandisten im Krieg: Die Presseabteilung des Auswärtigen Amts unter Ribbentrop (Munich: Oldenbourg, 1987), 41.

Bibliography Archives Archives of the Mining Academy and University of Technology (Archiv der Technischen Universität Bergakademie Freiberg), Freiberg in Saxony. BArch Berlin: Federal Archives Berlin (Bundesarchiv Berlin), Berlin. HStAM: Hessian State Archives (Hessisches Staatsarchiv), Marburg. PA AA: Political Archive of the Federal Foreign Office (Politisches Archiv des Auswärtigen Amts), Berlin. University Archives (Universitätsarchiv), Jena.

Books and articles Asendorf, Manfred. “Ulrich von Hassells Europakonzeption und der MEWT.” Jahrbuch des Instituts für deutsche Geschichte 7 (1978): 387–419. Bodó, Bela. “Foreign Students in Nazi Germany.” East European Quarterly 37, no. 1 (2003): 19–50. Burleigh, Michael. “Die Stunde der Experten.” In Der “Generalplan Ost”: Hauptlinien der nationalsozialistischen Planungs- und Vernichtungspolitik, edited by Mechthild Rössler and Sabine Schleiermacher, 346–350. Berlin: Akademie Verlag, 1993. ———. Germany Turns Eastwards: A  Study of Ostforschung in the Third Reich. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988. Freytag, Carl. Deutschlands “Drang nach Südosten”: Der Mitteleuropäische Wirtschaftstag und der “Ergänzungsraum Südosteuropa” 1931–1945. Göttingen: V&R unipress, 2012. Hausmann, Frank-Rutger. “Auch im Krieg schweigen die Musen nicht”: Die Deutschen Wissenschaftlichen Institute im Zweiten Weltkrieg. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2001.

188  Holger Impekoven Hildebrand, Klaus. Das vergangene Reich: Deutsche Außenpolitik von Bismarck bis Hitler 1871–1945. Berlin: Ullstein, 1999 [paperback; first published 1995]. Impekoven, Holger. “Deutsche Wissenschaft von außen beurteilt – Überlegungen zur Attraktivität deutscher Universitäten und Hochschulen für ausländische Wissenschaftler und Studenten (1933–1945).” In Universitäten und Studenten im Dritten Reich: Bejahung, Anpassung, Widerstand, edited by Joachim Scholtyseck and Christoph Studt, 161–179. Berlin: LIT, 2008. ———. Die Alexander von Humboldt-Stiftung und das Ausländerstudium in Deutschland 1925–1945: Von der “geräuschlosen Propaganda” zur Ausbildung der “geistigen Wehr” des “Neuen Europa.” Göttingen: V&R unipress, 2013. Jansen, Christian. Exzellenz weltweit: Die Alexander von Humboldt-Stiftung zwischen Wissenschaftsförderung und auswärtiger Kulturpolitik (1953–2003). Cologne: Dumont, 2004. Karady, Victor. “La migration internationale d’étudiants en Europe, 1890–1940.” Actes de la recherche en sciences sociales 145 (2002): 47–60. Kater, Michael. Das “Ahnenerbe” der SS 1935–1945: Ein Beitrag zur Kulturpolitik des Dritten Reiches. 2nd revised ed. Munich: Oldenbourg, 1997. Laitenberger, Volkhard. Akademischer Austausch und auswärtige Kulturpolitik 1923– 1945. Göttingen: Musterschmidt, 1976. Longerich, Peter. Heinrich Himmler: Biographie. Munich: Siedler, 2008. ———. Propagandisten im Krieg: Die Presseabteilung des Auswärtigen Amts unter Ribbentrop. Munich: Oldenbourg, 1987. Loth, Wilfried. “Rettungsanker Europa? Deutsche Europa-Konzeptionen vom Dritten Reich bis zur Bundesrepublik.” In Ende des Dritten Reiches: Ende des Zweiten Weltkrieges, edited by Hans-Erich Volkmann, 201–221. Munich: Piper, 1995. Madajczyk, Czesław, ed. Vom Generalplan Ost zum Generalsiedlungsplan: Dokumente. Munich: De Gruyter, 1994. Martin, Dirk. De Rijksuniversiteit Gent tijdens de bezetting 1940–1944: Leven met de vijand. Gent: Archief RUG, 1985. Picker, Henry. Hitlers Tischgespräche im Führerhauptquartier 1941–1942, edited by Percy Ernst Schramm. Stuttgart: Seewald, 1963. Schröder, Hans-Jürgen. “Südosteuropa als ‘Informal Empire’ Deutschlands 1933–1939: Das Beispiel Jugoslawien.” Jahrbücher für Geschichte Osteuropas 23 (1975): 70–96. Siebert, Erich. “Die Rolle der Kultur- und Wissenschaftspolitik bei der Expansion des deutschen Imperialismus nach Bulgarien, Jugoslawien, Rumänien und Ungarn in den Jahren 1938–1944: Mit einem Blick auf die vom westdeutschen Imperialismus wiederaufgenommene Kulturpolitik.” PhD diss., Humboldt University, 1971. Stamati, Constantin Graf. “Zur ‘Kulturpolitik’ des Ostministeriums.” Vierteljahrshefte für Zeitgeschichte 6 (1958): 78–85. Thörner, Klaus. “Der ganze Südosten ist unser Hinterland”: Deutsche Südosteuropapläne von 1840 bis 1945. Freiburg: çaira, 2008. Wagner, Patrick. “Forschungsförderung auf der Basis eines nationalen Konsenses: Die Deutsche Forschungsgemeinschaft am Ende der Weimarer Republik und im Nationalsozialismus.” In Gebrochene Wissenschaftskulturen: Universitäten und Politik im 20. Jahrhundert, edited by Michael Grüttner, Rüdiger Hachtmann, Konrad H. Jarausch, Jürgen John, and Matthias Middell, 183–192. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2010.

10 Film Axis and film Europe German-Japanese and GermanItalian cooperation in the film industry from 1933 to 1945 Silvia Hofheinz Film as a propaganda medium “[T]here is no profession in which a single person can capture and influence such masses of people like that of screenwriter, film director, actor, cameraman – in short, the profession of filmmaker.”1 Working from this belief, the Nazi regime, especially Propaganda Minister Joseph Goebbels, systematically used the medium of film for propaganda purposes and as a mechanism with which to exercise control. The Nazi control of film for propaganda purposes – an issue that has been extensively explored in various books and essays in recent decades – began in 1933 with the foundation of the Reich Ministry of Public Enlightenment and Propaganda (RMVP) and the Reich Chamber of Culture (RKK) culminated in the nationalization of the film companies in 1942.2 Movies were used to entertain and influence German citizens, but the Nazi regime tried to establish a dominant position for German film productions in foreign countries as well.3 This was not an easy task, however, not least because there was an international boycott on Nazi films.4 While Nazi involvement in the film industry initially started small, with economic upswing in the 1930s, the possibilities for film export began to improve and the Nazi regime was able to increase production. German film revenues in foreign countries continued to rise until around 1943–1944, a clear sign that film was an ideal and successful medium for the export of propaganda almost up to the end of the Third Reich.5 As Hans Spielhofer, a contemporary German film reviewer, put it: “Is there an artistic medium, a form of communication, that can introduce us so quickly and so clearly to a foreign country like a film can?”6 Indeed, German films were exported abroad not just for financial and economic reasons, but also for propaganda purposes. Foreign films were imported for the same reasons. Although a variety of scholarly contributions have focused on the Nazi regime’s propaganda policy, little attention has been paid to the regime’s use of film as a medium for establishing solidarity in fascist international relations. Given the sometimes tense political relationship among the Axis powers, this chapter intends to investigate whether and how the medium of film was instrumentalized to improve relations between Germany and other countries, particularly Japan and Italy.

190  Silvia Hofheinz In Japan and Italy, film was also regarded as a powerful medium. The first attempts to control its production and distribution were made in both countries as early as the 1920s. In 1925,7 Japan sought to supervise the growing film industry by centralizing its production within a single institution that also regulated public screenings in order to insulate the populace from foreign influence.8 But it was not until 1940 that the government passed a law specifically turning the film industry into a propaganda instrument.9 In Italy, in 1924, L’Unione Cinematografica Educativa (LUCE) was founded, a film company that primarily produced documentaries and newsreels. Its task was to “provide instruction in cultural, foreign, and national affairs through film”10 under the direct supervision of Mussolini himself.11 Between 1927 and 1933, several quota laws were passed in order to strengthen the position of Italian film in the domestic market. It was now stipulated that every film must be dubbed, and with dubbing rights came the burden of extremely high taxes. Furthermore, a strict limit regarding the import of foreign films was established.12 A great deal has already been written about cooperation between Germany and Italy in the film industry. Much of this scholarship is focused on the governments’ interests in seeking cooperation, on the people involved – for example, actors and directors working together on joint international productions – and, of course, on the films themselves. Nonetheless, that is only one aspect of how the cooperative ties functioned as a whole. Film provided an excellent opportunity to speak directly to people in other countries – once, that is, the language barrier was overcome. Through the involvement of nongovernmental organizations – international cultural organizations, for example, or even just the cinemas where the films were shown – and professionals working outside the sphere of politics, it became possible to operate in a different, officially non-political atmosphere. This point could be of particular relevance in looking at the resistance of Italian people to Italy’s entry into the war or in examining the difficulties between Germany and Japan after the signing of the German-Soviet Nonaggression Pact in 1939, for example. Cooperation in the film industry may have helped to overcome such difficulties. Thus, beyond exploring whether and how film may have been used to improve political relations among the Axis powers, this chapter also seeks to answer the question of who exactly was involved. International cooperation in the film industry was well established long before the Nazis came to power. Indeed, the category “Film Europe” is often used by scholars to refer to the international productions of the 1920s. This term was employed especially in Germany “to describe the ideal of a vibrant pan-European cinema industry, making international co-productions for a massively enhanced ‘domestic’ market.”13 Europe was seen as capable of challenging the US film industry.14 The rise of pan-European collaboration was marked by various international conferences, collaborative efforts, and international projects featuring famous directors and actors.15 Especially in the latter half of the 1920s, it was possible for certain European countries to assert themselves against US market dominance and to widen the distribution of European films.16 This was possible in large part to quotas, tariffs, and other ancillary laws that were targeted especially

Film Axis and film Europe  191 against films from the United States.17 But, by the end of the decade, the boom came to an end as a result not only of the Great Depression, but also because of the logistical hurdles to cooperation, trade barriers, and, last but not least, the translation problems that came about with the rise of “talkies.”18 According to Thompson, in the 1930s, the Nazis preferred films with a nationalistic bent, and “[t]his attitude went against the spirit of the 1920s, when it was widely assumed that films should appeal to an international audience.”19 Other scholars, though, link the term “Film Europe” more closely with the Third Reich – including, for example, Jan Andreas May20 and Benjamin George Martin.21 Making films for an international audience remained a central issue in German film politics after 1933. Still, the goal was to break the market dominance of US films. According to Saunders, the German-Italian axis was the center of the “Film Europe” movement in the 1930s.22 Examples illustrating this are the International Film Chamber and the International Film Festival in Venice. Both associations are also important for examining film industry relationships between Germany, Japan, and Italy, and will be further investigated in this essay. The present contribution to the scholarly discussion presents the manifold layers of institutional and personal cooperation legible in the film policies of the Axis powers. The aim here is to specify the actors in the field, to analyze the way in which politics interacted with technical concerns, and to provide an answer to the question as to whether this cooperation may have contributed to the creation a common transnational public sphere.

Exchange and co-productions Between Germany and Italy, as well as between Germany and Japan, a significant number of films were exchanged between the years 1933 and 1945. Germany and Italy, as well as Germany and Japan, also co-produced films. On the GermanJapanese side, the most popular co-production was Die Tochter des Samurai (The Daughter of the Samurai), which premiered in February 1937 in Tokyo and the following month in Berlin. Because of disagreements between the German director Arnold Fanck and his Japanese colleague Mansaku Itami, two versions of the film were produced. Both were shown in Germany and in Japan, though the German one was more successful in both countries. In 1940, the film was shown again under a new title, Die Liebe der Mitsu (The Love of Mitsu). In spite of its being the first and most successful German-Japanese co-production, it is not quite clear whether the initiative for the film came from the private sector or from either or both governments.23 The German-Italian relationship was defined both by cooperation and competition. In the 1930s, the number of German films exported to Italy was on the rise. But this trade was not without complications, as visible in the correspondence between the film companies LUCE and Bavaria in 1943. There were at the time significant problems concerning the distribution and screening of so-called Kulturfilme.24 The discussions taking place around the film Condottieri, a German-Italian co-production directed by Luis Trenker, make clear the occasional rockiness of the relationship between officials in both countries. On the

192  Silvia Hofheinz occasion of the premiere, the official press was full of praise and made much of the film’s rating as “staatspolitisch und künstlerisch wertvoll” (“valuable for both its artistry and political significance”).25 Goebbels’s diary explains the reason for this rating: There is quarrel about the rating for the “Condottieri” film. The Italians are strongly in favor of it. I am creating a new rating ‘‘künstlerisch und staats­ politisch wertvoll”. If the Führer agrees, the film can have that one. It does not deserve it, though.26

Institutions German-Japanese Society (DJG) Cross-border film production and distribution required public visibility to help in determining relevant subject matter and in gaining institutional support. The German-Japanese Society was probably founded around 1888 or 1890. After the takeover of the Nazi regime in 1933, it was restructured, and since then it had been functioning as a key mediating organization between Germany and Japan, playing a role in every field of cultural and social life. As of 1934, it was state-funded and, because of its incorporation into the Arbeitsausschuss Deutscher Verbände, it was under the surveillance of the RMVP.27 For this reason, it was not easy for the DJG to stay politically neutral. After the Anti-Comintern Pact was signed in 1936, neutrality was all but impossible,28 though officially the DJG could still be considered a nongovernmental cultural organization. For the German-Japanese film relationship it was important that the DJG often organized film screenings. The German-Japanese co-production Das heilige Ziel (The Sacred Goal), for example, was screened numerous times, at events organized by the DJG, for instance on 4 April 1939 in the Marmorhaus, a cinema hall in Berlin.29 Many of the films were the explicit property of the Society.30 Sometimes it even financed or otherwise influenced the production. Cinema “ASIA” Having opened on 27 December  1935, in Harbin, Manchukuo, the cinema “ASIA” added another layer to German foreign film politics and especially to the German-Japanese film relationship. In this case, the opening of a cinema sent a strong political message, since the Japanese-occupied puppet state of Manchukuo in northeastern China was recognized as sovereign only by the fascist states. The press service for the Reich Film Chamber (Reichsfilmkammer, RFK) reported the opening on 7 July 1936, stating that the theater “has made it its business to screen works of the German film industry that reflect the essence and character of the German people, that convey German culture and that portray an authentic image of the cultural aspirations and achievements of the new German Reich.”31 Here it is made explicit that the German-Japanese film relationship aimed to develop

Film Axis and film Europe  193 new business markets for the German film industry and to broaden understanding of German culture. The article also mentions the difficulties the German consulate in Harbin faced in opening the cinema in the first place. Prior to the opening of cinema ASIA, German films were often imported, though thereafter their popular success markedly increased. The cinema was sponsored by both Japanese and German circles, was equipped with German film technology, and had 1,000 seats.32 The success of the cinema and of the German films it screened was reported as follows on 27 March 1941: Cinema shows at the German “ASIA” cinema are . . . major social events and are attended by all high Japanese, German, and Italian dignitaries, in uniform and medals. The recent showing of the film “Sieg im Westen” was accompanied by a smart uniformed turn-out of local S.A. and Bund Deutscher Mädel.33 Interestingly, the cinema is reported as a specifically German cinema, but nevertheless the Axis partners were present for the screenings. In a letter sent to the president of the Reich Film Chamber on 2 February 1941, the cinema was also declared a “German culture and propaganda organization”34 whose task was “to prepare, by regular screenings of German films a future for German film production.”35 No indication of Japanese involvement is given here either; in fact, reports of the screening of Japanese films are entirely absent. The same letter speaks of twenty-four German films being sent to Manchukuo via the German consulate of Hsinking in March  1940, but apparently there were delivery problems because by the time this letter was sent the films had not yet arrived.36 Another report in March 1937 mentions Japanese involvement – though without any reference to Japanese films: “Films of Nazi activities were shown in the local GermanJapanese cinema since the Germans have joined with the Japanese and Manchurians in denouncing communism.”37 This poses some interesting questions as to whether at some point the Japanese ceased participating and whether the cinema was operating from that point on as an exclusively German cinema. It is also possible that Japanese involvement did continue, albeit without comment, and if this is the case, then the question arises as to why. Cinema “Quirinetta” The cinema “Quirinetta” in Rome, unlike “ASIA,” was clearly defined as an Italian cinema and proved quite important for the export of German films. It opened on 27 December 1935, featured 350 seats, and was meant to show American, German, French, and British films in their original versions, alongside Italian films dubbed into other languages.38 The following example evinces the importance that the Nazi regime ascribed to this cinema. In 1935, the German ambassador to Italy, Ulrich von Hassell, was invited to join the elite circle of patrons involved with the cinema as an honorary member.39 After reporting this to Berlin, he was advised to accept this offer: The Reich Ministry was very interested in the cinema, as it offered an opportunity to show German films in the original version abroad.

194  Silvia Hofheinz The German government was further impelled to accept because the ambassadors of Great Britain and the United States were already honorary members.40 Hassell thus agreed to join the circle of patrons, together with his wife.41 Why the Reich Ministry expressed such strong interest may be explained by the fact that German films in Italy were not quite experiencing the success that had been expected. Goebbels sought to explain this not based on the quality of the German films nor on cultural differences, but on the bad quality of Italian dubbing.42 The cinema Quirinetta secured an audience for its original German-language screenings in arranging for distribution of tessera, or admission passes, through the German embassy, and these passes were required for entry to the cinema.43 Indeed, as of 6 January 1936, with the screening of Luis Trenker’s Der verlorene Sohn (The Lost Son),44 German films began to be shown at the cinema and continued to be shown at least until November 1941, when Operette and Auf Wiedersehen (See you again) were both screened.45 Given that, officially, the tesserae were intended for non-Italians staying in Rome permanently or temporarily,46 it would be interesting to know whether Italians were also able to attend screenings at the cinema Quirinetta,47 and whether the original German versions would have had much or perhaps better resonance with an Italian audience than did the versions dubbed in Italian. In any case, cinema Quirinetta represented another avenue for the German government to present its films in Italy, even if it is not clear whether these films did or did not exactly reach the Italian public.48 Cinecittà The construction of the Italian film studio “Cinecittà” began in 1936.49 It opened almost one year later in 1937.50 Because it was one of the most modern film studios in Europe, many foreign film companies were eager to use it for their own productions,51 and Germany was no exception. In 1937, the film magazine Der Deutsche Film reported that not only had the Germans produced more films in the new studio than anyone else – twenty films in six months – but also that, at the moment, two more productions were underway: Drei Frauen um Verdi (Three Women Around Verdi), in cooperation with the Italians, and the German film Unsere kleine Frau (Our Little Woman).52 International Film Chamber (IFK) Film was central to many international organizations, notably the International Film Chamber (Internationale Filmkammer, or IFK). Founded in 1935, the IFK was established, on the one hand, in an attempt to create a “political-economic organization, designed to secure German dominance in international networks” 53 and, on the other, to initiate “a large scale cultural campaign, celebrating the idea of a distinctly ‘European’ cinema.”54 Twenty-two nations participated. It’s certainly valid to view the IFK as an attempt at forming a European bloc to compete against the American film industry,55 much like what took place in the 1920s. Because of political tensions, the first attempt yielded little and soon lost significance. Then,

Film Axis and film Europe  195 as the 1930s progressed and the Nazi regime managed to broaden their film export market by means of military achievements,56 the International Film Chamber was revived. This time, in mid-1941, there were seventeen nations involved. On the recommendation of Germany, Count Volpi di Misurata – who was also responsible for the organization of the Venice Biennale – was named president.57 Karl Melzer, then-president of the RFK, was made general secretary. On record, this development was cast as a contribution to the improvement of already generally quite good German-Italian relations, but a look beneath the surface into the private record reveals that the Nazi regime in fact held a rather different opinion of its Axis partner. From Goebbels’s diary, for instance: When it comes to film, Volpi knows nothing. So it should be easy for us to neutralize him with our appointment of [Karl] Melzer as General Secretary. The seat of the IFK should be Berlin for the next few years.58 With the second attempt, the IFK proved a success. In a report dated November 1941 from an IFK conference, its central task is articulated: to help all European artistic, intellectual, and economic powers to join together for the sake of protecting and fostering film production. It was generally understood that a European standard must first be defined before a uniquely European style could develop.59 That same year, at the first conference of the reunited IFK held a few months before, Goebbels made explicit reference to the US film market: In my opinion it is a scandal that the continent where culture originated is now reliant on a continent which only conditionally possesses culture of its own. If the International Film Chamber could manage to redress this dishonorable relation. . . , then we could face American competition with assurance.60 Interestingly, Japan was also a guest participant at an IFK conference in 1942.61 International Film Festival in Venice (Biennale) More than figureheads and institutions, fascist cooperation required the staging of events. The International Film Festival, first held in 1932, originated in the International Festival of Arts that had been held in Venice since 1895. It was Count Volpi di Misurata who recognized the potential for tourism with such an event, and so, among other events, he introduced the International Film Festival in 1932. The “Biennale” was originally scheduled to take place every two years, but because of the popularity and success of the event, it has been held annually since 1935 and has since separated off from the Festival of Arts.62 Throughout the 1930s and especially after the outbreak of World War II, Germany presented itself alongside Italy as an equal partner and even as a co-organizer of this film festival, as coverage in the magazine Der Deutsche Film makes evident. Year after year, from August 1936 through its suspension in 1943, the trade magazine published extensive articles about the film festival. In 1941, the festival was temporarily renamed

196  Silvia Hofheinz the “German-Italian Film Festival” rather than the International Film Festival, since the international events scheduled that year had been canceled due to current events.63 The links between “Film Europe,” the IFK, and the international festival were made obvious when, in 1942, Eitel Monaco published an article about the ninth annual event in Venice, heralding it as the [first] event in which the New Europe, now solidly unified, will present the best achievements in film. The International Film Chamber  – built upon a new foundation – has been revived and collaboration of all kinds among individual states has again found sponsorship in the spirit of the New European Order. I therefore welcome both initiatives with the same confidence, with absolute conviction in the cinematic potential of the European peoples. These peoples have not only had their own way paved by our two united countries, but they have been shown the path to cultural ascendancy.64 Not only did the Biennale become an occasion on which the quality of European film productions could be lauded, but the event was also an excellent opportunity for the three Axis powers to meet: Japan participated in at least three festivals. In Japan’s Yearbook of Cinema, the films sent in 1937 and 1939 are listed, in each case five films. The entry concludes with the statement that “[i]t is believed that The Five Scouts [produced by Nikkatsu] received praise in Venice, . . . [and] won the cup of the Ministry for Popular Culture.”65

Protagonists In the context of the German-Japanese relationship, two persons are especially important, not only for what they actually did but also because they illustrate the variety of personal backgrounds and professions involved in the cultural exchange between the two countries. Erwin Toku Bälz (1889–1945) Erwin Toku Bälz was born in Japan to the German doctor Erwin Bälz66 and his Japanese companion, Hana Bälz, whom he married in 1905. Toku Bälz spent the first decade of his life in Japan. In April 1900, he was sent off to Germany to be educated by his German relatives because “he is German and meant to be a real German.”67 During the First World War, Toku Bälz fought for the German side in the German army, earning the Iron Cross.68 He studied architecture and sculpture and, for a few years, ran his own art studio, but none of this brought him success. Then, in 1928, Toku Bälz returned to study the traditional Japanese art of kabuki theater in Japan; he intended to present this in Europe.69 His teacher was the famous kabuki actor Matsumoto Koshirô VII.70 After his return to Germany, Bälz gave lectures on and performances of kabuki, often in cooperation with the DJG.71 Crucially, in 1940, at the invitation of the Japanese government and with financial support from the DJG, he traveled to Japan to work on several film

Film Axis and film Europe  197 projects. In a letter dated June 1941 addressed to Admiral Foerster, then president of the DJG, he gives a short overview over these projects.72 The first of these is a Kulturfilm entitled Die Seele Japans (The Soul of Japan) that was made in cooperation with the Japanese film studio Shochiku. The making of this film was plagued with problems, primarily due to financial miscalculations and a lack of raw film material. The second project was a revised version of the Japanese film Moyuru Ôzora, perhaps the most famous project Bälz worked on and the main reason why he traveled to Japan. The Japanese Ministry of War planned to present this film to Hitler personally. This project was finished,73 and, in June 1942, the film premiered in Berlin under the title Nippons wilde Adler (Nippon’s Wild Eagles)74 and went on to be screened in cinemas throughout Germany. Interestingly, the film was presented to Mussolini as well,75 though the dedication in the opening credits is to Germany and there is no mention of Italy at all.76 The third project was another revised version of a Japanese war film originally done by Shochiku that was titled, in the German version, Vorwärts, Vorwärts (Forward, Forward). Bälz was meant to give the film, a narrative concerning the use of tanks in China, to Goebbels as a present from the Japanese government. The fourth project was a film version of the kabuki play Sampei, which Bälz had earlier adapted and performed for German audiences. According to his report to Foerster, there was a great deal of Japanese interest in this project and he had made a number of contacts,77 but in this case, too, a lack of raw film material became a problem. Interestingly, in 1940, before Bälz had even left for Japan, he wrote to Helmut Werner, secretary of the DJG since 1940, that he had canceled this project for lack of time.78 It still remains to be clarified why exactly he changed his mind. The last project, finally, was the production of a color Kulturfilm.79 According to Annette Hack, the only one of these projects that was fully realized was Nippons wilde Adler, all of the others suffering in the end from a lack of raw footage material.80 But according to a letter sent by the German Foreign Office to the DJG on 23 December 1941, Die Seele Japans was actually completed, clocking in at ninety minutes, only the sound was missing.81 It remains an open question whether this film was actually finished and whether it was ever sent to Germany. Bälz stayed in Japan until his death in March 1945.82 Johannes Barth (1891–1981) Johannes Barth hailed from quite a different background. He was born in Germany and educated to be a salesman. In 1912, he traveled to China, where he was still living when the First World War broke out. Barth was dispatched to defend the German colony of Tsingtau. When Tsingtau fell in November 1914, he was captured by the Japanese and sent to a prisoner-of-war camp in Bando. After his release, he remained in Japan to found the trading company Barth Shôkai in 1920–1921.83 In his autobiography, Barth mentions a long-standing business interest in the distribution of German feature films in Japan, in addition to the sale of glass and metal. By his own account, Barth sent a number of reports back to Germany concerning the odds of success for German film screenings in Japan and

198  Silvia Hofheinz strategies for increasing these odds, though this business ambition never really amounted to anything. Then, in 1933, UFA proposed he act as their agent in Japan. Barth accepted and was soon named “representative for the whole German film industry in Japan.”84 In 1941, he traveled to Germany to report on the current situation.85 The agent acting in his stead in Japan during his stay in Germany was none other than Erwin Toku Bälz.86 Their mutual acquaintance was already established in connection with Nippons wilde Adler (see n. 74). From Barth’s autobiography, it is clear that neither man cared for the other. As Barth tells it, Bälz employed intrigues in attempts to push him aside in order that he might keep the job as UFA representative in Japan for himself. Barth also claims that UFA did not like the reports Bälz was sending and that, in 1944, the company was eager for Barth to return to Japan. Moreover, he claimed, Bälz was not even able to speak Japanese properly,87 an accusation that seems unlikely given Bälz’s background and professional life. After the end of the Second World War, Barth returned to Japan and continued working with German films throughout the 1950s. In 1954, in a letter from the German Transit Film GmbH to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Barth is mentioned as its representative in Tokyo.88

Conclusion The film relationship between Germany, Japan, and Italy from 1933 to 1945 involved not only film exchange and cooperation, although these two dimensions played an important role. For the past couple of decades, research has focused on questions concerning which and how many films were imported or exported, and which films were co-produced. While these questions are relevant, the persons and the institutions involved should also be investigated. In Japan, Johannes Barth and Erwin Toku Bälz – two men from different backgrounds and holding different positions, neither politicians nor diplomats  – were working on the GermanJapanese film relationship. Bälz especially, who, with both a German and Japanese parent, was a nearly ideal candidate for this work, played an important role not least due to his film adaptation Nippons wilde Adler, which was presented to Hitler and screened in a number of cinemas throughout Germany. Interestingly, he was also an acquaintance of the German ambassador Eugen Ott.89 Cultural organizations played a key role, as in the example of the German-Japanese Society that organized film screenings, many of which were from its own archival holdings. Cinema “ASIA” in Manchukuo represents a different kind of collaboration – namely, an attempt on the part of Germany to develop new business markets for German film by means of contacts with Japan. As far as Italy was concerned, film exchange was an essential part of cross-border film relationships, and here the cinema “Quirinetta” opens up a remarkable new research perspective, for it screened German films without Italian dubbing. Of course, further inquiries are needed concerning who was really able to attend the screenings and whether audiences responded better to these original-­ language films than to films dubbed in Italian. In at least one instance, a Japanese film was also shown at the “Quirinetta.”90 Cooperation between the International

Film Axis and film Europe  199 Film Chamber and the International Film Festival in Venice represents another aspect of this film relationship: The medium was used, on the one hand, to demonstrate a strong Berlin-Rome axis on the political as well as the cultural level and, on the other, to establish a “Film Europe” corresponding to the intended New European Order under German91 and perhaps also – at least officially – Italian guidance.

Notes 1 Wilhelm Müller-Scheld, “Zur Eröffnung der Deutschen Filmakademie,” Der deutsche Film 3, no. 5 (1938): 117. All translations from the German are mine. 2 For more information regarding the film policy of the Third Reich, see for example Bogusław Drewniak, Der deutsche Film 1938–1945: Ein Gesamtüberblick (Düsseldorf: Droste, 1987), and Bernd Kleinhans, Ein Volk, ein Reich, ein Kino: Lichtspiel in der braunen Provinz (Cologne: PapyRossa, 2003). 3 Drewniak, Der Deutsche Film, 691. 4 Ernst Offermanns, Internationalität und europäischer Hegemonialanspruch des Spielfilms der NS-Zeit (Hamburg: Kovač, 2001), 50. 5 For further information about film export, see for example Drewniak, Der Deutsche Film, 691–696. 6 Hans Spielhofer, “Filme des Monats,” Der deutsche Film 1, no. 11 (1937): 333. 7 Keiko Yamane, Das japanische Kino: Geschichte, Filme, Regisseure (Munich and Luzern: Bucher, 1985), 10. 8 Ibid., 21. 9 Tom Vick, “Japan: Cinema of Extremes,” in Asian Cinema: A Field Guide – From Iran to Thailand, India, and Japan – An Expedition through the Dynamic World of Asian Film, ed. Tom Vick (New York: Harper Collin, 2007), 42. 10 Elaine Mancini, Struggles of the Italian Film Industry During Fascism, 1930–1935: Studies in Cinema (Michigan: UMI Research Press, 1985), 121. 11 Jan Andreas May, La Biennale Di Venezia: Kontinuität und Wandel in der veneziani­ schen Ausstellungspolitik 1895–1948 (Berlin: Akademie-Verlag, 2009), 141. 12 Mancini, Struggles of the Italian Film Industry, 96–97. 13 Andrew Higson and Richard Maltby, “ ‘Film Europe’ and ‘Film America’: An Introduction,” in “Film Europe” and “Film America”: Cinema, Commerce and Cultural Exchange 1920–1939, ed. Andrew Higson and Richard Maltby (Exeter: University of Exeter Press, 1999), 2. 14 Ibid. 15 Thomas J. Saunders, “Germany and Film Europe,” in “Film Europe” and “Film America”: Cinema, Commerce and Cultural Exchange 1920–1939, ed. Andrew Higson and Richard Maltby (Exeter: University of Exeter Press, 1999), 157. 16 Kristin Thompson, “The Rise and Fall of Film Europe,” in “Film Europe” and “Film America”, ed. Andrew Higson and Richard Maltby (Exeter: University of Exeter Press 1999), 63. 17 Higson and Maltby, “ ‘Film Europe’ and ‘Film America’: An Introduction,” 3. 18 Thompson, “The Rise and Fall of Film Europe,” 63–67. 19 Ibid., 73. 20 May, La Biennale Di Venezia: Kontinuität und Wandel. 21 Benjamin George Martin, “ ‘European Cinema for Europe!’ The International Film Chamber, 1935–1942,” in Cinema and the Swastika: The International Expansion of Third Reich Cinema, ed. Roel Vande Winkel and David Welch (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2007). 22 Saunders, “Germany and Film Europe,” 157.

200  Silvia Hofheinz 23 For more information about The Daughter of the Samurai, see Janine Hansen, Arnold Fancks “Die Tochter des Samurai.” Nationalsozialistische Propaganda und japanische Filmpolitik, ed. Irmela Hijiya-Kirschnereit (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz Verlag, 1997). 24 See for example Bavaria to LUCE, February 9, 1940, Federal Archive Berlin (Bundesarchiv Berlin, BArch Berlin), R 109-I/1380, unfol. 25 Im Zeichen der deutsch-italienischen Filmfreundschaft, Deutscher Film AuslandsPresse-Dienst, no. 7 (1937), 4. 26 Joseph Goebbels, Die Tagebücher von Joseph Goebbels, part I: Aufzeichnungen 1923– 1941, vol. 4: März – November 1937, ed. Elke Fröhlich (Munich: Saur, 2000), 67. 27 Annette Hack, “Die gleichgeschaltete Deutsch-Japanische Gesellschaft (1933–1945),” in Die Deutsch-Japanischen Gesellschaften von 1888 bis 1996, ed. Günther Haasch (Berlin: Ed. Colloquium, 1996), 157–158. 28 Annette Hack, “Einleitung,” in Die Deutsch-Japanischen Gesellschaften von 1888 bis 1996, ed. Günther Haasch (Berlin: Ed. Colloquium, 1996), 6. 29 Invitation Card for the screening of “Das heilige Ziel,” BArch Berlin, R 64-IV/109, fol. 366. 30 Annette Hack, “Die Aktivitäten der gleichgeschalteten DJG,” in Die Deutsch-Japanischen Gesellschaften von 1888 bis 1996, ed. Günther Haasch (Berlin: Ed. Colloquium, 1996), 256. 31 “Deutsche Filme in der Hauptstadt Mandschukuos: Gründung eines DeutschJapanischen Filmtheaters,” Presse-Dienst der Reichsfilmkammer 2, no. 13 (1936). 32 Ibid. 33 Report from the British Consulate in Mukden on March 27, 1941, in: Robert L. Jarman, ed. Manchukuo: Political and Economic Reports 1937–1941 (Chippenham and Oxford: Archive Editions, 1994), 501. 34 Cinema ASIA to the President of the Reich Chamber of Film, February 8, 1941, BArch Berlin, 109-I/1612, unfol. 35 Ibid. 36 Ibid. 37 Harbin Consular District Intelligence Report for the Half Year Ended 31st March, 1937, printed in Manchukuo: Political and Economic Reports 1935–1937, ed. Robert L. Jarman (Chippenham and Oxford: Archive Editions 1994), 510. 38 La “Quirinetta” trasformata ed adibila a sala die proiezioni di film internazionali, Political Archive of the Federal Foreign Office, Berlin (Politisches Archiv des Auswärtigen Amts, PA AA), Rom-Quirinal Nr. 822, vol. 5, unfol. 39 Letter to Ulrich Hassell, July 21, 1935, PA AA, Rom-Quirinal Nr. 822, vol. 5, unfol. 40 Letter to Ulrich Hassell, August 12, 1935, PA AA, Rom-Quirinal Nr. 822, vol. 5, unfol. 41 Letter, September 1, 1935, PA AA, Rom-Quirinal Nr. 822, vol. 5, unfol. 42 Valentina Leonhard, “Völkerfreundschaft vor der Leinwand? Die deutsch-italienische Kino-Achse 1938–1943,” in Tenöre, Touristen, Gastarbeiter: Deutsch-italienische Filmbeziehungen, ed. Hans-Michael Bock, Jan Distelmeyer and Jörg Schöning (Munich: Richard Boorberg Verlag, 2011), 48. 43 Note, probably autumn 1935, PA AA, Rom-Quirinal Nr. 822, vol. 5, unfol. 44 Letter to Ulrich Hassell, January 3, 1936, PA AA, Rom-Quirinal Nr. 822, vol. 5, unfol. 45 Note from November 5, 1941, PA AA, Rom-Quirinal Nr. 1440B, unfol. 46 Note, probably autumn 1935, PA AA, Rom-Quirinal Nr. 822, vol. 5, unfol. 47 The owner of a tessera was allowed to buy more than one ticket, so the possibility that Italians were able to visit the Quirinetta in the company of foreigners cannot be excluded. Note, probably autumn 1935, PA AA, Rom-Quirinal Nr. 822, vol. 5, unfol. 48 Apparently, the cinema was closed for a time and reopened around 1941–1942. At this point, the tesserae are not mentioned anymore; instead seats could be reserved by telephone, PA AA, Rom-Quirinal 1439 unfol.

Film Axis and film Europe  201 49 Clemens Zimmermann, Medien im Nationalsozialismus: Deutschland 1933–1945, Italien 1922–1943, Spanien 1936–1951 (Vienna, Cologne and Weimar: Böhlau, 2007), 209. 50 Steven Ricci, Cinema and Fascism: Italian Film and Society, 1922–1943 (Berkeley/ CA. et al.: University of California Press, 2008), 68. 51 Pollone  – H.S., “Cinecittà – Die Römische Filmstadt,” Der deutsche Film 3, no. 2 (1938): 42. 52 Ibid., 43. 53 Martin, “ ‘European Cinema for Europe!’ ” 25. 54 Ibid. 55 Ibid. 56 Ibid., 28. 57 Ibid. 58 Joseph Goebbels, Die Tagebücher von Joseph Goebbels, part II: Diktate 1941– 1945, vol. 1: Juli–September 1941, ed. Elke Fröhlich (Munich et al.: K.G. Saur, 1996), 89. 59 The library and text archive of the German Film Institute, Frankfurt am Main (Bibliothek und Textarchiv des Deutschen Filminstituts), Tagung der Internationalen Filmkammer, München, 24.–27. November 1941. 60 Ibid., Tagung der Internationalen Filmkammer, Berlin 16.–21. Juli 1941. 61 Ibid., Tagung der Internationalen Filmkammer, Budapest, 29. November–3. Dezember 1942. 62 Marla Stone, “Challenging Cultural Categories: The Transformation of the Venice Biennale under Fascism,” Journal of Modern Italian Studies 4, no. 2 (1999): 192. 63 “Graf Volpi über die deutsch-italienische Filmkunstschau in Venedig,” Der deutsche Film 5, no. 3 (1940): 42. 64 Eitel Monaco, “Zur IX. Internationalen Filmkunstschau in Venedig,” Der deutsche Film 6, no. 2/3 (1941): 2. 65 Cinema Yearbook of Japan 1939, ed. Kokusai Bunka Shinkokai (The Society for International Cultural Relations) (Tokyo: International Cinema Association of Japan, 1939). 66 Erwin Bälz (1849–1913), doctor and scholar, was born in Bietigheim, Germany. In 1876 he accepted a teaching position at the medical school in Tokyo and in 1890 was named the personal physician to the imperial family, Susanne Germann, Ein Leben in Ostasien: Die unveröffentlichten Reisetagebücher des Arztes, Anthropologen und Ethnologen Erwin Baelz (1849–1913) (Bietigheim-Bissingen: Schriftenreihe des Archivs der Stadt Bietigheim-Bissingen, 2006), 43–49. 67 Erwin Toku Bälz, ed., Erwin Bälz: Das Leben eines deutschen Arztes im erwachenden Japan – Tagebücher, Briefe, Berichte (Stuttgart: J. Engelhorns Nachf. Adolf Spemann, 1930), 100. 68 Ume Kajima, Hana Bälz: Die Frau des Japanarztes Erwin Bälz (Stuttgart: Deutsche Verlags-Anstalt, 1978), 121. 69 Ibid., 143. 70 The secretary of the Deutsch-Japanische Gesellschaft (DJG) to Dr. Diettrich, May 9, 1939, BArch Berlin, R 64-IV/158, fol. 25–26. Likely the kabuki actor the document mentions is Matsumoto Koshiro VII (1870–1949), whose original name was Fujima Kintarô. He was a leading actor of kabuki and Imperial Theater, see Samuel L. Leiter, s.v. “Matsumoto Koshirô,” in New Kabuki Encyclopedia, ed. Samuel L. Leiter (Westport, CT: Greenwood Press, 1997), 216–218. 71 For more information, see Hack, “Aktivitäten,” 264–267. 72 On the following, see Toku Bälz to Admiral Foerster, June 5, 1941, BArch Berlin, R 64-IV/159, fol. 34–36. 73 Several letters from Bälz tell us about a problem regarding Moyuru Ôzora that he was attempting to deal with. Obviously, the film was sent to Germany too soon, before

202  Silvia Hofheinz

74 75 76 77

78 79 80 81 82

83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90

91

Bälz was finished. Because of the inappropriateness of the Japanese production for European people, Bälz feared severe consequences if Hitler would be shown this film before he could finish his work. In his opinion it was even more important because this film was the first opportunity to familiarize Hitler and Germany with Japanese military strength and it was also the first Japanese film that Hitler and his staff would even see. Johannes Barth was also involved during these events; see for example Toku Bälz to Oberstleutnant Niemitsch, March 14, 1941, BArch Berlin, R 64 – IV/159, fol. 55–57. Gs./E./Rü., “ ‘Nippons wilde Adler’ in Hamburg erstaufgeführt,” Deutscher Kultur­ dienst Film, no. 153 (1942), BArch Berlin, R 34/306, unfol. Nachrichtendienst des Japanischen Vereins in Deutschland: Japanische Filme für den Führer, February 14, 1941, BArch Berlin, R 64-IV/159, fol. 149. Opening credits from “Nippons wilde Adler,” Stadtarchiv Bietigheim Bissingen. Bälz names the film company Shochiku and Baron Mitsui, who was a member of the managing committee of the Japanese-German Institute, as parties interested in supporting his project, see Toku Bälz to Admiral Foerster, June 5, 1941, BArch Berlin, R 64-IV/159, fol. 35 Toku Bälz to Helmut Werner, August  4, 1940, BArch Berlin, R 64-IV/159, fol. 302–303. Toku Bälz to Admiral Foerster, June 5, 1941, BArch Berlin, R 64-IV/159, fol. 34–36. Hack, “Aktivitäten,” 260. German Foreign Office to DJG, Unter Bezugnahme auf das auf Veranlassung der DJG gesandte Telegramm betr. Arbeitauftrag Bälz, December  23, 1941, BArch Berlin, R 64-IV/159, fol. 20. Letter from the German Embassy, April  4, 1945, Honpô kakkoku kan bunka kôkan kankei zakken, nichi doku kokkan no bu (Kultureller Austausch zwischen Japan und verschiedenen Ländern. Verschiedenes. Zwischen Japan und Deutschland (1944– 1945), Diplomatic Archives of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of Japan, Tokyo, I-1–1– 1–0–1–3, vol. 3. Johannes Barth, Als deutscher Kaufmann in Fernost: Bremen, Tsingtau, Tōkyō, 1891– 1981 (Berlin: Erich Schmidt Verlag, 1984), 35–75. Ibid., 93–94. Ibid., 113. Ibid., 152. Ibid., 154. Transit GmbH to the German Ministry of Foreign Affairs, March  19, 1954, BArch Berlin, R 109-I/2184. They went to school together, see Eugen Ott to Admiral Foerster, April 5, 1940, BArch Berlin, R 64-IV/159, fol. 234. Three Japanese films were shown in Italian cinemas between 1 September 1941 and 31 August  1942, one of them also in the cinema Quirinetta: Zusammenstellung der Statistik der in den wichtigsten italienischen Städten vom 1. September 1941 bis zum 31. August 1942 aufgeführten Filme, BArch Berlin, R 109-I 0442. Martin, “European Cinema for Europe!”

Bibliography Archives BArch Berlin: Federal Archives Berlin (Bundesarchiv Berlin), Berlin. Diplomatic Archives of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of Japan, Tokyo. The library and text archive of the German Film Institute (Bibliothek und Textarchiv des Deutschen Filminstituts), Frankfurt am Main. PA AA: Political Archive of the Federal Foreign Office (Politisches Archiv des Auswärtigen Amts), Berlin.

Film Axis and film Europe  203 Books and articles Bälz, Erwin Toku, ed. Erwin Bälz: Das Leben eines deutschen Arztes im erwachenden Japan: Tagebücher, Briefe, Berichte. Stuttgart: J. Engelhorns Nachf., 1930. Barth, Johannes. Als deutscher Kaufmann in Fernost: Bremen, Tsingtau, Tōkyō, 1891– 1981. Berlin: Erich Schmidt Verlag, 1984. ———. “Deutsche Filme in der Hauptstadt Mandschukuos: Gründung eines DeutschJapanischen Filmtheaters.” Presse-Dienst der Reichsfilmkammer 2, no. 13 (1936). Cinema Yearbook of Japan 1939, edited by Kokusai Bunka Shinkōkai (The Society for International Cultural Relations). Tokyo: International Cinema Association of Japan, 1939. Drewniak, Bogusław. Der Deutsche Film 1938–1945: Ein Gesamtüberblick. Düsseldorf: Droste, 1987. Germann, Susanne. Ein Leben in Ostasien: Die unveröffentlichten Reisetagebücher des Arztes, Anthropologen und Ethnologen Erwin Baelz (1849–1913). Bietigheim-Bissingen: Schriftenreihe des Archivs der Stadt Bietigheim Bissingen, 2006. Goebbels, Joseph. Die Tagebücher von Joseph Goebbels, part I: Aufzeichnungen 1923– 1941, vol. 4: März – November 1937, edited by Elke Fröhlich. Munich: Saur, 2000. ———. Die Tagebücher von Joseph Goebbels, part II: Diktate 1941–1945, vol. 1: Juli – September 1941, edited by Elke Fröhlich. Munich: Saur, 1996. Hack, Annette. “Die Aktivitäten der gleichgeschalteten DJG.” In Die Deutsch-Japanischen Gesellschaften von 1888 bis 1996, edited by Günther Haasch, 225–349. Berlin: Ed. Colloquium, 1996. ———. “Die gleichgeschaltete Deutsch-Japanische Gesellschaft (1933–1945).” In Die Deutsch-Japanischen Gesellschaften von 1888 bis 1996, edited by Günther Haasch, 123–224. Berlin: Ed. Colloquium, 1996. ———. “Einleitung.” In Die Deutsch-Japanischen Gesellschaften von 1888 bis 1996, edited by Günther Haasch, 1–9. Berlin: Ed. Colloquium, 1996. Hansen, Janine. “Celluloid Competition: German-Japanese Film Relations, 1929–1945.” In Cinema and the Swastika: The International Expansion of Third Reich Cinema, edited by Roel Vande Winkel and David Welch, 187–197. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2007. ———. Arnold Fancks “Die Tochter des Samurai”: Nationalsozialistische Propaganda und japanische Filmpolitik. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz Verlag, 1997. Higson, Andrew, and Richard Maltby. “ ‘Film Europe’ and ‘Film America’: An Introduction.” In “Film Europe” and “Film America”: Cinema, Commerce and Cultural Exchange 1920–1939, edited by Andrew Higson and Richard Maltby, 1–31. Exeter: University of Exeter Press, 1999. Jarman, Robert L., ed. Manchukuo: Political and Economic Reports, 1935–1937. Chippenham and Oxford: Archive Editions, 1994. ———, ed. Manchukuo: Political and Economic Reports, 1937–1941. Chippenham and Oxford: Archive Editions, 1994. Kajima, Ume. Hana Bälz: Die Frau des Japanarztes Erwin Bälz. Stuttgart: Deutsche Verlags-Anstalt, 1978. Kleinhans, Bernd. Ein Volk, Ein Reich, Ein Kino: Lichtspiel in der braunen Provinz. Cologne: PapyRossa, 2003. Leiter, Samuel L. “Matsumoto Koshirô.” In New Kabuki Encyclopedia, edited by Samuel L. Leiter. Westport, CT: Greenwood Press, 1997. Leonhard, Valentina. “Völkerfreundschaft vor der Leinwand? Die deutsch-italienische Kino-Achse 1938–1943.” In Tenöre, Touristen, Gastarbeiter: Deutsch-Italienische Filmbeziehungen, edited by Hans-Michael Bock, Jan Distelmeyer, and Jörg Schöning, 44–55. Munich: Richard Boorberg, 2011.

204  Silvia Hofheinz Mancini, Elaine. Struggles of the Italian Film Industry During Fascism, 1930–1935: Studies in Cinema. Michigan: UMI Research Press, 1985. Martin, Benjamin George. “ ‘European Cinema for Europe!’ The International Film Chamber, 1935–1942.” In Cinema and the Swastika: The International Expansion of Third Reich Cinema, edited by Roel Vande Winkel and David Welch, 25–41. New York: Palgrave-Macmillan, 2007. May, Jan Andreas. La Biennale Di Venezia: Kontinuität und Wandel in der Venezianischen Ausstellungspolitik 1895–1948. Berlin: Akademie-Verlag, 2009. Müller-Scheld, Wilhelm. “Zur Eröffnung der Deutschen Filmakademie.” Der deutsche Film 3, no. 5 (1938): 117. Offermanns, Ernst. Internationalität und Europäischer Hegemonialanspruch des Spiel­ films der NS-Zeit. Hamburg: Kovač, 2001. Pollone, H. S. “Cinecittà – Die Römische Filmstadt.” Der deutsche Film 3, no. 2 (1938): 42–43. Ricci, Steven. Cinema and Fascism: Italian Film and Society, 1922–1943. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2008. Saunders, Thomas J. “Germany and Film Europe.” In “Film Europe” and “Film America”: Cinema, Commerce and Cultural Exchange 1920–1939, edited by Andrew Higson and Richard Maltby, 157–180. Exeter: University of Exeter Press, 1999. Spielhofer, Hans. “Filme des Monats.” Der deutsche Film 1, no. 11 (1937): 333–336. Stone, Marla. “Challenging Cultural Categories: The Transformation of the Venice Biennale under Fascism.” Journal of Modern Italian Studies 4, no. 2 (1999): 184–209. Thompson, Kristin. “The Rise and Fall of Film Europe.” In “Film Europe” and “Film America”, edited by Andrew Higson and Richard Maltby, 56–81. Exeter: University of Exeter Press, 1999. Vick, Tom. “Japan: Cinema of Extremes.” In Asian Cinema: A Field Guide; From Iran to Thailand, India, and Japan – an Expedition Through the Dynamic World of Asian World, edited by Tom Vick, 37–86. New York: Harper Collins, 2007. Yamane, Keiko. Das japanische Kino: Geschichte, Filme, Regisseure. Munich and Luzern: Bucher, 1985. Zimmermann, Clemens. Medien im Nationalsozialismus: Deutschland 1933–1945, Italien 1922–1943, Spanien 1936–1951. Vienna, Cologne, and Weimar: Böhlau, 2007.

11 Building a New Europe on the back of “German” science1 Völkisch ideologies and imperialistic visions at the Academy of Sciences in Vienna Felicitas Seebacher Introduction After the “Anschluss” of Austria to the German Reich in 1938, the historian Heinrich (Ritter von) Srbik was appointed president of the Academy of Sciences in Vienna. As a representative of the “pan-German” concept of history, Srbik was one of the masterminds of the concept of a völkisch Europe. He worked closely with presidents of other German academies that had established connections with the Viennese Academy in a Cartel since 1893 and comprised a German Reich Association from 1940 onward. Not later than 1938, racial ancestry began to determine academic careers and positions within the Academy of Sciences in Vienna, and all Non-“Aryan” and politically “unreliable” members of the Academy had to resign. Furthermore, academic contacts with hostile countries were canceled. In a “völkisch community of fate” (völkische Schicksalsgemeinschaft) there was no place for the foreign. Comprised of German scientists, the German Reich Association sought to establish an elite institution with a model character for a Nazi “New Europe”: the “German Reich Academy of Sciences.” This new association would present the “German” humanities at the International Union of Academies, and was to be managed by Germans to ensure Germany retained the leading position in Europe’s scientific community. This chapter shows the influence that German claims for European supremacy had on the science policy of the Academy of Sciences in Vienna, and also investigates the radical measures that were accepted for its enforcement. The chapter further examines Srbik’s speeches at the Academy’s Ceremonial Sessions to document the ideological background, used in justifying its inhuman actions to secure German hegemony during the Nazi era.

“German Science”: a cultural mission The Imperial Academy of Sciences in Vienna, connected with the German academies in the “Cartel of German Academies of Sciences” since 1893,2 fulfilled the cultural mission of securing the international position of “German science.” Since 1899, the Cartel had cooperated in the “International Association of Academies”3

206  Felicitas Seebacher interdisciplinarily and internationally.4 With the onset of World War I, however, academic exchange across borders became increasingly restricted. In 1918, Germany and Austria had not only lost the war, but also their scientific reputation in Europe, and were no longer admitted as members of international scientific organizations.5 According to Lawrence Badash, “there could be no scientific dealings with Germany, no international meetings with Germans present, and no international organization head-quartered in Germany” or Austria.6 The Cartel reacted to its isolation by fostering closer cooperation between academies in Germany and Austria7 while also emphasizing the national prestige of “German science.” One of the masterminds, responsible for the increasing nationalist emphasis of the sciences and humanities in Germany and Austria, was the historian Heinrich von Srbik.8 Disappointed by the German and Austrian defeat in World War I, Srbik became increasingly nationalistic, and, after becoming a corresponding member of the Academy of Sciences in Vienna in 1919,9 he hoped that “if Austria has to perish, it should at least experience a new völkisch awakening within the Greater German Völkisch state.”10 The historian knew about the “sacred character of a true folkish community,” which Jay Y. Gonen describes as an idealistic expectation: “Under the umbrella of the Volksgemeinschaft, the folk community, everything was supposed to cohere naturally in pleasant harmony.”11 Only a united Volksge­ meinschaft could insure a völkisch state, forming “the all-important means for achieving the sacred goal of a true folkish community.”12 In 1926, Srbik emphasized that he thought “Pan German and Central European,” thus expressing his longing for a coalition of all Germans in Central Europe.13 With his publications “Wallensteins Ende,”14 “Metternich,”15 and particularly “Die deutsche Einheit,”16 Srbik presented himself as a “bearer of the tradition of the pan-German historiography,”17 and thus as a proponent of a völkisch and racial Europe. To Srbik, the Germans seemed to be “the most leading people” (das führendste Volk) in Central Europe.18 As a reward for intensively promoting völkisch and racial ideas, in 1935 Srbik was made an honorary member of the Reich Institute for the History of the New Germany.19 Gernot Heiss emphasizes that professors of medieval and modern history at the University of Vienna who sought to establish a “Greater German Reich” – such as Srbik or his colleagues Hans Hirsch, Wilhelm Bauer, or Otto Brunner – “considered historiography decidedly as a political science.” Their publications focused on topics “concerning the ‘Volkstumskampf’, proclaimed by the German revisionists and imperialists.” Nazi ideology corresponded with their political ideas and academic work. At the University of Vienna, historiography became a legitimizing academic discipline for the German claim for supremacy in Europe. Historians like Srbik collaborated with the Nazi regime and worked actively to advance its ideology.20

Representing the völkisch ideology In March of 1938, Srbik saw his nationalistic expectations for Europe partly fulfilled after the “Anschluss” absorbed Austria into the German Reich. The founding

Building a New Europe on “German” science 207 of the “Greater German Reich” was celebrated with bombastic military parades, and for Srbik, it was “the result of the will of the nation and the unique action of an Austrian,”21 Adolf Hitler. As the secretary of the Philosophical-Historical Class of the Academy of Sciences in Vienna since 1933 (re-elected in 1937),22 Srbik was a representative of the völkisch ideology for the NSDAP. In April 1938, he was nominated president of the Academy,23 but Reich Governor Arthur SeyssInquart did not hand over the decree before September 26.24 At the Ceremonial Session of the Academy of Sciences in Vienna on 23 November  1938,25 Srbik presented his scientific-political program for the future. In his inaugural address, he declared that the Academy must fulfill the mission of building national identity. The president saw the Academy as a “German cultural institute” that would prove the “cultural greatness” of the German nation to other “peoples” in Europe and the rest of the world: This Academy has always been, also for the time  – after 1866  – when it did not belong any more to the political German body, a German cultural institute in its core, it always has devoted its best strengths to the great cause to do German intellectual work for the own people and at the same time to emanate stimulating German spirit to the non-German area of the peoples of East-Central Europe, of Europe, indeed of the whole world, and, in this way, to serve a missionizing idea of the German people. . . . In its long and proud history, it always was fully aware of its duty to do intellectual work for the German people.26 Srbik expressed his belief in “German unity” and explained that an attempt had been made to “drive a wedge between the Austrian and the German academies” after World War I. However, “such attempts failed due to the loyalty of the Viennese Academy to the German Cartel” that he had facilitated.27 In May 1938, Srbik officially became a member of the NSDAP,28 and in March  1939 he assumed responsibility for representing the “interests of the Nazi Party” at the Academy from Fritz Knoll, rector of the University of Vienna.29 After the Nazi era, Srbik wrote a letter to the Austrian government claiming that rejecting either Nazi Party membership, or his appointment to the Reichstag in Berlin, which he had been appointed to by Hitler,30 would have made his duties at the Academy “undoubtedly extremely difficult, if not impossible.”31

Executing the policy of ethnic cleansing For Srbik, academic research had an honorable goal: “to contribute to the glory of the German name in the world by supporting scientific cooperation internationally.”32 He put science in the “service of the völkisch honor, the völkisch power, the völkisch unity and freedom and the new idealism through which our people lives.”33 The historian stressed that “there is no academic discipline which could detach completely from the genealogical, ideological and political existence and developments of its own people and which could work as if being in a vacuum.”34

208  Felicitas Seebacher “Academic disciplines in the service of the German people”35 expelled all scientists from German universities and Academies of Sciences who did not fit into the National Socialist academic system. With the Nuremberg racial laws it was allowed to exclude all non-“Aryans” from enrolling at universities or attaining academic positions. Members of the Viennese Academy, mostly working at universities, were significantly involved in the repression apparatus, and used pseudo-science to determine who was an “Aryan” scientist and who was not. In their minds, disciplines such as anthropology, biology, medicine, genetics, history, or linguistics were to be enlisted to prove the importance of race and descent. For Hitler and his followers, only the “Aryans” had “the spark of genius, needed to create civilization,” whereas the Jews were the “destroyers of culture.” They blamed the Jews for having “a singular talent for undermining and corrupting the cultures of the other races.”36 Contrary to the universities, where “non-Aryan” professors were dismissed, members of Academies of Sciences, “pure scholars’ societies,” were elected for a lifetime. This ensured the “ethnic cleansing” of the academies required a longer process.37 While prior to 1938 the Nazi Party did not demand immediate dismissal of Jewish members of the Viennese Academy of Sciences, Jewish members were asked by the Academy to terminate their memberships, a humiliating request to make of internationally acknowledged scientists.38 According to Eduard Seidler, none of the “Aryan” members protested.39 Corresponding members who failed to provide proof of “Aryan” origins were simply deleted from the membership lists. After the “Anschluss,” the Viennese Academy was pushed to dismiss Jewish and politically suspicious members, and even Nobel Prize winners had to leave the Academy.40 The exclusion and forced emigration of physicist Victor F. Hess shows how the Academy of Sciences in Vienna treated its unwanted members. Only two months after the “Anschluss,” Hess, who was married to a Jew, was dismissed from his research position in Innsbruck. In October 1938, the physicist, who had been awarded the Nobel Prize for Experimental Physics in 1936,41 wrote a letter to the Academy of Sciences in Vienna, informing them that he had to finish his research in Innsbruck, and would leave for America in early November. Hess, a Christian-social critic of the Nazi system, thanked the Academy for supporting his scientific work. He closed the letter with the following words: “I am sincerely sorry that external circumstances are forcing me to abandon my lifework in my home country and move abroad.”42 In January  1939, Hess informed the Viennese Academy about his appointment to the Fordham University in New York.43 In the “Almanach” (Yearbook) of the Academy of Sciences in Vienna of 1938, Hess was already listed as a “foreigner.”44 It was not until 10 October 1940 that Hess was registered in the minute book of the Academy of Sciences as having resigned his membership, creating the impression that he had voluntarily decided to leave the Academy.45 Foreign members of the Academy of Sciences in Vienna warned that science would lose its international character and acceptance if “Aryan” science was idealized. Their warnings were ignored.46

Building a New Europe on “German” science  209

Breaking off international relations Negating many warnings, Srbik broke off important international relationships of the Viennese Academy and concentrated on academic relations within the German Reich. In May 1938, he proudly represented the German Reich alongside the philologist and historian Johannes Stroux from Berlin as delegate of the Cartel at the twentieth meeting of the “Comité of the Union Académique Internationale” in London.47 In this international organization, founded in 1919, the Cartel of German Academies had been a member since 1935.48 During World War II, the German Academies only maintained academic relations with countries that were German allies or were occupied by Germany, and had to break off the relations with wartime enemies. However, the Ministry of Home and Cultural Affairs issued a decree stipulating that scientific and cultural relations with neutral states should be sustained during the war.49 In September 1940, Bernhard Rust, Reich Minister for Science and Education, allowed German academics to participate in international study tours in anticipation of German victory: “The more the war turns to a victorious end, the more the sciences of foreign countries try to strengthen their connections with the German science and to build new connections.” Even if he welcomed this development as benefiting Germany’s cultural diplomacy, he worried that “a too numerous appearance of German scientists abroad could lead to an impairment of the value of their appearance with regard to cultural diplomacy.” Therefore, Rust demanded that any study tour abroad should be announced two months beforehand. A detailed abstract of the lecture’s contents and information on the personality of the lecturer had to be sent to the ministry.50 At the same time, exchange of publications with the American Mathematical Society in New York and the National Bureau of Standards in Washington was halted.51 Other countries’ scientific institutions, such as the Royal Irish Academy in Dublin, responded to this decision by ending their exchange of journals and publications with the Academy in Vienna.52 Nevertheless, Ernst Späth, secretary general of the Academy of Sciences in Vienna, reported in the Almanac of the Academy in 1940 that the Academy had successfully prevailed with international scientific relations despite facing significant resistance. The Academy was aware of its duty to work successfully for the reputation of German culture and science by using its extensive network of contacts with foreign countries, built up over decades. . . . The exchange of publications with scientific organizations . . . of countries allied to us and neutral countries has been continued unhindered.53 Späth understood the importance of using science for political propaganda, not mentioning that political restrictions determined all international relations. When scientific relations with the Soviet Union were resumed, allowing Soviet citizens to get to know “the work of German science,” “ideological discussions” were strictly excluded.54 In 1941, the American Institute of Physics55 and the American

210  Felicitas Seebacher Geographical Society of New York56 halted the exchange of publications with the Academy of Sciences in Vienna.

The political axis between Vienna and Berlin In striving for “German unity,” which he hoped would become visible in academia, Srbik cooperated closely with Karl Theodor Vahlen, the provisional president of the Prussian Academy of Sciences in Berlin and representative of “German mathematics.” Vahlen was not a first-class scientist; he had received his leading political and academic positions for political reasons.57 However, Vahlen ambitiously used his political connections to advance his career, and used his relationship with Srbik, whom he had known since 1930 when Srbik was the minister for education in Austria and had supported Vahlen’s call for a chair at the Technical University of Vienna.58 Networks like this, which were maintained on a professional and personal level for years, were used to advance academic careers in ways that were resistant to political changes.59 Srbik was cooperating closely with the center of the NSDAP in Berlin, and faithfully executed Vahlen’s requests at the Viennese Academy. While Vahlen presented himself as a National Socialist, Srbik posed as a reluctant Nazi who had joined the Nazi Party solely for the sake of his Academy.60 Vahlen’s and Srbik’s common aim was the reorganization of the German academies according to the “Führer principle.”61 On 1 February 1940, the Academy of Sciences in Vienna was subordinated to the Reich Ministry for Science, Education, and National Education in Berlin.62 Srbik welcomed the “closer connection,”63 and in the opening speech of the Ceremonial Session in 1940, the Viennese president proudly highlighted the significant contribution “German science” would make to European post-war reorganization: Vital necessities have been refused to the German people, they will fight to attain these necessities, and they will attain them. Then the new European order, which will have to be a völkisch order, will always require the state for the development of the creative völkisch forces, and then, however, it will need the science again, as well as it is needed today to sharpen the weapons and to preserve the spiritual values.64 To further demonstrate German strength and power, Vahlen and Srbik transformed the Cartel of German Academies into a German Reich Association of German Academies. On 23 August 1940, Rust approved the statutes of the German Reich Association, and a month later it was transformed into a “German Reich Academy of Sciences.” Its challenge was “to increase the achievements of ‘German science’ by all available means.”65 In a German Reich Academy, only “Aryans” could become ordinary members,66 which resulted in a final selection. For the Academy of Sciences in Vienna, it was just a formal order, because the Jewish and political non-conformist members of the Academy had largely resigned their memberships before 1940. Increasingly, the German Reich Academy of Sciences

Building a New Europe on “German” science  211 was presented in German media as an elite institution of “German science” and as a role model for the whole of Europe.67

The claim for supremacy in Europe The reorganization of Europe along “Germanic” principles appeared highly desirable to many Germans and Austrians who had worked towards the “reorganization of Europe” after World War I. Collaboration with the Nazis was a price many were willing to pay in order to advance their imperialist vision. Jürgen Elvert argues the shaping of the new “Germanic Europe” offered many a chance to contribute their ideas to help advance the Nazi regime’s vision of a New Europe, and to construct this vision, as no concrete plans for the New Europe existed.68 To regain a leading position in the international scientific community after the war, the presidents of the German academies planned to establish a restructured “Union Académique Internationale” (UAI) for the humanities. In November  1940, they discussed this academic union at a conference in Berlin, where they demanded that “the German humanities take over the guidance in Europe” first, and the sciences later. Vahlen made clear that the Association of German Academies was established mainly as a predecessor for the UAI that would be led by Germans.69 One of the reasons for their preference for the humanities was that the German Academies were not members of the “Conseil International des Unions Scientifique” for the sciences. Rust had refused membership70 because, in his opinion, a memorandum of the Royal Academy of Sciences in Amsterdam in which seventy-four internationally acknowledged scientists had criticized Germany’s totalitarian science policy71 was an offense to Germany. In order to quickly assume the leading position in the UAI, Vahlen planned to move the office of the secretary general of the UAI in Brussels to an “invulnerable place” in the German Reich, and then put it under the guidance of the German academy member Stroux.72 The presidents of the German Academies were convinced that the German Reich Association of German Academies would achieve hegemony over the European humanities as soon as the war was won. According to Karl Friedrich Drescher-Kaden, president of the Academy of Sciences in Göttingen, the political strength of Germany in Europe . . . will move all by itself the authoritative influence in the scientific organizations of the world to Germany as soon as the German academies will dispose about the now missing funds and manpower.73 In May 1941, Vahlen sent a circular of the permanent secretary of the UAI, Baron de Selys Longchamps, to Srbik. The baron also had recommended electing Stroux president of the UAI because he had been vice president of the UAI since its initial meeting in London in 1939. The baron wished Brussels would remain the seat of the UAI during World War II.74 To prove the strength of “German” humanities, Srbik sent Vahlen the research reports of the projects “Corpus Vasorum

212  Felicitas Seebacher Antiquorum” and “Neubearbeitung des Mittellateinischen Wörterbuchs” (revision of the Medieval Latin Dictionary). These reports represented the most successful models of international research cooperation in the UAI and were intended to demonstrate to the world that the German Reich was entitled to lead it.75 In his inaugural address at the Ceremonial Session of the Academy of Sciences in Vienna in 1941, Srbik once more referred to his imperialistic vision: The New Europe will have to be formed not only by the German strength, but also by the German spirit. The day of the German science which is with all its soul during war and peacetime with its people, will shine in full sunlight, and in a long period of peace it will dedicate its best strength to the people and to the Reich.76 One year later, Srbik emphasized: “the political unification of our people was preceded by the spiritual (geistige) unification.” Srbik spoke in the name of the Academy, when he confessed: “We believe in the coming unity of spirit (Geist) and power, culture and politics, thinking and acting, people (Volk) and state.”77 This was something like a political creed, similar to the credo of a religion, showing the sacral character of the Nazi ideology. For Srbik, one step towards “German unity” had been reached in the founding of the German Reich Academy of Sciences.78 In early 1943, the Nazis were still convinced that the German Reich was moving towards victory, although Hitler’s expectation that the Red Army would be defeated within six weeks had proven incorrect. After the defeat of Germany’s Sixth Army at Stalingrad, Srbik had to change his strategy and propaganda. During the Ceremonial Session at the Academy of Sciences in Vienna in May 1943, his duty was to motivate his academic audience for a continuation of the war, even though he had begun to distance himself from the Nazi Party’s inner circle.79 The addresses, which he delivered at the Ceremonial Session in 1944 and 1945, were not published anymore.80

Discussion and conclusion Srbik, having been re-elected as president of the Academy of Sciences in Vienna twice, was crushed by the burden of the war and resigned in February of 1945. He left Vienna for Ehrwald in the Tyrol. He wrote to a friend that he needed time to recover and “would come back to Vienna as soon as possible.”81 When Srbik was condemned in court and imprisoned in 1945, he felt it was “deeply wrong.” Srbik’s student, Adam Wandruszka, argued that his teacher never understood why he had lost his reputation as a famous historian.82 Two years later Srbik wrote a letter to a friend, reflecting his political behavior during the Nazi era: “Why did I submit externally to this power, despite the recognizable symptoms, however incomplete, that it was a system hostile to humanity and culture?” His biggest mistake had been “not to break openly with the party, when I realized what was going on,” Srbik wrote. In his opinion, “I  have never acted wrongly and have never betrayed the ethos of science nor my loyalty to the history of my home

Building a New Europe on “German” science  213 country.” His justification and explanation were that he had cooperated with the Nazi system to protect his family.83 The “uncritical-patriotic attitude” was one of the main reasons why Austrian historians like Srbik supported the ideology of National Socialism.84 During the interwar period, they felt obliged as “German Austrians” to support the nationalpolitical movement. They rejected the political-territorial reorganizations, implemented by the peace treaties of Versailles, and opposed claims that Austria and Germany were solely responsible for the outbreak of the war. As representatives of the “Greater German conception of history,” the historical mission of the “German people” was central for these historians. The self-chosen missionary mandate seemed to entitle them to reach the hegemony in Central Europe.85 Inspired by this ideology, Srbik and the presidents of the German academies strove to grant “German” science a leading position in Europe, and were convinced that only “pure” Germans could attain this scientific and national-political goal.86 The desire to unite the pan-German Europeans, and integrate the other people into a “New Europe” under German leadership, was transferred from politics to the universities and academies, and back again. Martina Pesditschek emphasizes that “the German super-nationalist” Srbik held tight to his vision: “Today we lead Central Europe, and tomorrow the whole world.”87 To reach this goal, Srbik carried out all “inhuman and, in the last consequence, criminal commands.”88 Michael Derndarsky recognizes in Srbik’s personality a “big sympathy for the fascist, totalitarian movement. . . , even if he did not accept its vices.”89 With anti-Semitism and the claim to racial rule, the Nazi Party destroyed the different ethnic traditions, moral norms, and values of academia.90 The belief that the “German scientific community” could help construct a “New Europe” was shattered by military reality.

Notes 1 The term “German science,” coined in the era of nation-building in the nineteenth century as a symbol of “German greatness,” is used here in the contemporary understanding. The author is aware that publications in English should pay attention to the differentiation between the sciences and the humanities. 2 Richard Meister, Geschichte der Akademie der Wissenschaften in Wien 1847–1947 (Vienna: Adolf Holzhausens Nfg., 1947), 127. 3 See Archive of the Austrian Academy of Sciences, Vienna (Archiv der Österreichi­ schen Akademie der Wissenschaften, AOeAW), International Association 1899–1908, I  159, 1899, general plan for the founding of an International Association of Academies. Preliminary assessment of the Academies of Sciences in Berlin, Göttingen, Leipzig, Munich, and Vienna, sent with the invitation to the conference in Wiesbaden, October 9 and 10, 1899, 1–24. 4 Conrad Grau, “Die Wissenschaftsakademien in der deutschen Gesellschaft: Das ‘Kartell’ von 1893 bis 1940,” in Die Elite der Nation im Dritten Reich: Das Verhältnis von Akademien und ihrem wissenschaftlichen Umfeld zum Nationalsozialismus – LeopoldinaSymposion vom 9. bis 11. Juni 1994 in Schweinfurt, ed. Eduard Seidler (Halle (Saale): Barth, 1995), 31–32. 5 Eduard Seidler, “Die akademische Elite und der neue Staat,” in Die Elite der Nation im Dritten Reich: Das Verhältnis von Akademien und ihrem wissenschaftlichen

214  Felicitas Seebacher

6 7

8

9 10 11 12 13 14 15

16

17

Umfeld zum Nationalsozialismus – Leopoldina-Symposion vom 9. bis 11. Juni 1994 in Schweinfurt, ed. Eduard Seidler (Halle (Saale): Barth, 1995), 18. Lawrence Badash, “British and American Views of the German Menace in World War I,” Notes and Records of the Royal Society in London 34, no. 1 (1979): 113. Jürgen John, “ ‘Not deutscher Wissenschaft’? Hochschulwandel, Universitätsidee und akademischer Krisendiskurs in der Weimarer Republik,” in Gebrochene Wissenschafts­ kulturen: Universität und Politik im 20. Jahrhundert, ed. Michael Grüttner et al. (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2010), 110. See the latest publications on Srbik: Martina Pesditschek, “Heinrich (Ritter von) Srbik: Historiker, Unterrichtsminister, Reichstagsabgeordneter im Nationalsozialismus,” in Universität  – Politik – Gesellschaft, ed. Mitchell Ash and Josef Ehmer (Göttingen: Vienna University Press/V & R unipress, 2015); Martina Pesditschek, “Heinrich (von) Srbik (1878–1951) and the Academy of Sciences,” in The Academy of Sciences in Vienna 1938 to 1945, ed. Johannes Feichtinger et al. (Vienna: Austrian Academy of Sciences Press, 2014); Martina Pesditschek, “Heinrich (von) Srbik (1878–1951) und die Akademie der Wissenschaften,” in Die Akademie der Wissenschaften in Wien 1938 bis 1945: Katalog zur Ausstellung, ed. Johannes Feichtinger et al. (Vienna: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, 2013); Martina Pesditschek, “Heinrich (Ritter von) Srbik (1878–1951); ‘Meine Liebe gehört bis zu meinem Tod meiner Familie, dem deutschen Volk, meiner österreichischen Heimat und meinen Schülern,’ ” in Österreichische Historiker: Lebensläufe und Karrieren 1900–1945, ed. Karel Hruza (Vienna, Cologne and Weimar: Böhlau, 2012), 2; Herbert Matis, “Reden des Akademiepräsidenten Heinrich (von) Srbik anläßlich der Feierlichen Sitzungen,” in Die Akademie der Wissenschaften in Wien 1938 bis 1945: Katalog zur Ausstellung, ed. Johannes Feichtinger et al. (Vienna: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, 2013); Herbert Matis, “Speeches by Academy President Heinrich (von) Srbik at the Ceremonial Sessions,” in The Academy of Sciences in Vienna 1938 to 1945, ed. Johannes Feichtinger et al. (Vienna: Austrian Academy of Sciences Press, 2014). “Mitglieder der philosophisch-historischen Klasse: Ordentliche Mitglieder,” Almanach der Akademie der Wissenschaften für das Jahr 1938 88 (1939): 34. Heinrich von Srbik, letter to Oswald Redlich, Graz, March 16, 1919, in Heinrich Ritter von Srbik: Die wissenschaftliche Korrespondenz des Historikers 1912–1945, ed. Jürgen Kämmerer (Boppard am Rhein: Boldt, 1988), 121. Jay Y. Gonen, The Roots of Nazi Psychology: Hitler’s Utopian Barbarism (Lexington, Kentucky: University Press of Kentucky, 2000), 139. Ibid., 143. Heinrich von Srbik, letter to Johann Loserth, Vienna, June 5, 1926, in Heinrich Ritter von Srbik, ed. Kämmerer, 285. Heinrich von Srbik, Wallensteins Ende: Ursachen, Verlauf und Folgen der Katastrophe (Vienna: Seidel, 1920). Heinrich von Srbik, Metternich: Der Staatsmann und der Mensch, vol. 1 and vol. 2 (Munich: Bruckmann, 1925); Heinrich von Srbik, Metternich: Der Staatsmann und der Mensch, vol. 3: Quellenveröffentlichungen und Literatur: Eine Auswahlübersicht von 1925–1952 (Munich: Bruckmann, 1954). Heinrich Ritter von Srbik, Deutsche Einheit: Idee und Wirklichkeit vom Heiligen Reich bis Königgrätz, vol. 1 and vol. 2 (Munich: Bruckmann, 1935); Heinrich von Srbik, Deutsche Einheit: Idee und Wirklichkeit von Villafranca bis Königgrätz, vol. 3 and vol. 4 (Munich: Bruckmann, 1942). See Pesditschek, “Heinrich (von) Srbik (1878– 1951) and the Academy of Sciences,” 37: According to Pesditschek, these books were “intended as a plea for rapid annexion” of Austria to the German Reich and “were understood in Austria as such.” Papers Clips “Srbik Celebration at the University,” Wiener Neueste Nachrichten, November 10, 1938, AOeAW, Fritz Knoll papers, 2/7. On this occasion, I would like to

Building a New Europe on “German” science  215

18

19 20 21 22 23 24 25

26

27 28

29 30 31 32

33 34

thank Stefan Sienell for supporting my work in the archives of the Austrian Academy of Sciences so generously. Heinrich von Srbik, Mitteleuropa: Das Problem und die Versuche seiner Lösung in der deutschen Geschichte – Vortrag, gehalten bei der Jahresversammlung der Gesell­ schaft für Rheinische Geschichtskunde und der Arbeitsgemeinschaft der Rheinischen Geschichtsvereine am 12. Februar 1937 in der Aula der Universität Köln (Weimar: Böhlau, 1937), 38, quoted in Gernot Heiss, “Die ‘Wiener Schule der Geschichtswissenschaft’ im Nationalsozialismus: ‘Harmonie kämpfender und Rankescher erkennender Wissenschaft?’ ” in Geisteswissenschaften im Nationalsozialismus: Das Beispiel der Universität Wien, ed. Mitchell Ash, Wolfram Niess, and Ramon Pils (Vienna: Vienna University Press, 2010), 398. Heinrich von Srbik, letter to Hermann Oncken, Vienna, November 22, 1935, in Heinrich Ritter von Srbik, ed. Kämmerer, 428. Heiss, “Die ‘Wiener Schule der Geschichtswissenschaft’,” 400. See also Jürgen Elvert, “Geschichtswissenschaft,” in Die Rolle der Geisteswissenschaften im Dritten Reich 1933–1945, ed. Frank-Rutger Hausmann (Munich: Oldenburg, 2002). Heinrich von Srbik, letter to Werner Näf, Vienna, April 12, 1938, in Heinrich Ritter von Srbik, ed. Kämmerer, 487. “Mitglieder der philosophisch-historischen Klasse: Ordentliche Mitglieder,” 34. Protocols of the “Gesamtsitzung,” April 1, 1938, AOeAW, elections, 157/1938, fol. 2. Herbert Matis, Zwischen Anpassung und Widerstand: Die Akademie der Wissenschaften 1938–1945 (Wien: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, 1997), 22. Regular ceremonial sessions of the Academy of Sciences in Vienna were held in the middle of May every year. Because of the “Anschluss” of Austria to the German Reich in March 1938 and the delay of the ratification of the president, the ceremonial meeting was postponed in 1938. Heinrich Ritter von Srbik, “ ‘Die deutsche Wissenschaft und die Wiener Akademie im Großdeutschen Reich’: Vortrag, gehalten in der satzungsmäßigen Jahressitzung der Akademie am 23. November 1938,” Almanach der Akademie der Wissenschaften für das Jahr 1938 88 (1939): 167–168. Ibid., 168. Heinrich von Srbik, Rechtfertigungsschreiben an das Staatsamt für Unterricht in Wien, Ehrwald, Tirol, September  3, 1945, quoted in Michael Derndarsky, “Österreich und die ‘Deutsche Einheit’: Studien zu Heinrich von Srbik und seiner gesamtdeutschen Geschichtsauffassung” (unpublished habilitation treatise, Alpen-Adria-Universität Klagenfurt, 1989), 494. Letter from Heinrich von Srbik to Fritz Knoll, Vienna, March 16, 1939, AOeAW, Fritz Knoll papers, 1/1, Personalia, 1939. Bundesministerium für Inneres, Gauakt Nr. 49317, quoted in Derndarsky, “Österreich und die ‘Deutsche Einheit,’ ” 139. Srbik, justification letter (Rechtfertigungsschreiben), quoted in Derndarsky, “Österreich und die ‘Deutsche Einheit,’ ” 495. Srbik, “Die deutsche Wissenschaft und die Wiener Akademie im Großdeutschen Reich,” Almanach der Akademie der Wissenschaften für das Jahr 1938 88 (1939): 167. See Felicitas Seebacher, “ ‘Science – for the Glory of the German People’: Construction and Destruction of Scientific Cosmopolitanism by National Ideologies at the Academy of Sciences in Vienna,” in Scientific Cosmopolitanism and Local Cultures: Religions, Ideologies, Societies – Proceedings of 5th International Conference of the European Society for the History of Science, ed. Gianna Katsiampoura (Athens: National Hellenic Research Foundation/Institute of Historical Research, 2014), http://5eshs.hpdst. gr/sites/5eshs.hpdst.gr/files/5eshs-proceedings.pdf. Srbik, “Die deutsche Wissenschaft und die Wiener Akademie im Großdeutschen Reich,” 176. Ibid., 170.

216  Felicitas Seebacher 35 “Vorläufige Satzung der Akademie der Wissenschaften in Wien (Provisional Statutes of the Academy of Sciences in Vienna),” Almanach der Akademie der Wissenschaften in Wien für das Jahr 1938 88 (1939): 9. 36 Heather Pringle, The Master Plan: Himmler’s Scholars and the Holocaust (London: Fourth Estate, 2006), 3. 37 Matis, Zwischen Anpassung und Widerstand, 28. 38 Seidler, “Die akademische Elite,” 20. 39 Ibid., 17. 40 Grau, “Die Wissenschaftsakademien in der deutschen Gesellschaft,” 46. 41 Matis, Zwischen Anpassung und Widerstand, 31. 42 Letter from Victor F. Hess to the Academy of Sciences in Vienna, Graz, October 19, 1938, AOeAW, Allgemeine Akten (general documents), 380/1938 (B 2589). 43 Letter from Victor F. Hess to the Academy of Sciences in Vienna, New York, January 1939, ibid. 44 “Mitglieder der mathematisch-naturwissenschaftlichen Klasse: Ausländer,” Almanach der Akademie der Wissenschaften für das Jahr 1938 88 (1939): 30. 45 Dismissal of members, October  10, 1940, AOeAW, Protokollbuch (minutes book), 335–340/1940. 46 Seidler, “Die akademische Elite,” 20. 47 See Letter from Heinrich von Srbik and Johannes Stroux, report about the twentieth meeting of the Comité of the Union Académique Internationale, May 8 to 11, 1939, Vienna, May  22, 1939, AOeAW, Union Académique Internationale, 1/B, 184/1939, fol. 1–7. See further Felicitas Seebacher, “The ‘national honor’ of German Academies: The Vienna Academy Caught between National and International Academic Cooperations,” in The Academy of Sciences in Vienna 1938 to 1945, ed. Johannes Feichtinger et al. (Vienna: Austrian Academy of Sciences Press, 2014). 48 Letter from Heinrich Lüders, Prussian Academy of Sciences, to the Academy of Sciences in Vienna concerning the entry into the Union Académique Internationale, Berlin, May 14, 1935, AOeAW, Union Académique Internationale, 1/A 904, 312/1935. 49 Letter from the Ministry of Home and Cultural Affairs to the Academy of Sciences in Vienna, December 14, 1939, AOeAW, minutes book, 467/1939 (A 949). 50 Letter from Reich Minister Bernhard Rust to all universities in the German Reich, Berlin, September 24, 1940, AOeAW, general documents, 321/1940. 51 Suspension of sending publications to the American Mathematical Society in New York and the National Bureau of Standards in Washington, September  13, 1940, AOeAW, minutes book, 299, 300/1940. 52 Letter from the Royal Irish Academy in Dublin to the Academy of Sciences in Vienna, September 13, 1940, AOeAW, international exchange of publications, 308/1940. 53 Ernst Späth, “Bericht über die Tätigkeit und über die Veränderungen der Akademie der Wissenschaften und der mathematisch-naturwissenschaftlichen Klasse vom 7. Juni 1939 bis 31. Mai 1940,” Almanach der Akademie der Wissenschaften in Wien für das Jahr 1940 90 (1941): 163. 54 Letter from Bernhard Rust to Heinrich von Srbik, Berlin, February 18, 1941, AOeAW, general documents 52/1941. 55 American Institute of Physics in New York to the Academy of Sciences in Vienna, April 25, 1941, AOeAW, minutes book 97/1941. 56 American Geographical Society in New York to the Academy of Sciences in Vienna, April 28, 1941, AOeAW, minutes book 99/1941. 57 Rolf Winau, “Die Preußische Akademie der Wissenschaften im Dritten Reich,” in Die Elite der Nation im Dritten Reich: Das Verhältnis von Akademien und ihrem wissenschaftlichen Umfeld zum Nationalsozialismus – Leopoldina-Symposion vom 9. bis 11. Juni 1994 in Schweinfurt, ed. Eduard Seidler (Halle (Saale): Barth, 1995), 80. 58 Letter to Wilhelm Bauer, Vienna, April  18, 1935, in Heinrich Ritter von Srbik, ed. Kämmerer, 409.

Building a New Europe on “German” science  217 59 Mitchell Ash, Wolfram Niess and Ramon Pils, “Geisteswissenschaften im Nationalsozialismus: Das Beispiel der Universität Wien – Konzept, Fragestellungen, Erkenntnisse,” in Geisteswissenschaften im Nationalsozialismus: Das Beispiel der Universität Wien, ed. Mitchell Ash, Wolfram Niess and Ramon Pils (Vienna: Vienna University Press, 2010), 34. 60 See Srbik, justification letter, quoted in Derndarsky, “Österreich und die ‘Deutsche Einheit,’ ” 495. 61 Peter Th. Walter, “ ‘Arisierung’, Nazifizierung und Militarisierung: Die Akademie im ‘Dritten Reich,’ ” in Die Preußische Akademie der Wissenschaften zu Berlin 1914– 1945, ed. Wolfram Fischer (Berlin: Akademie-Verlag, 2000), 107. 62 Document issued by the German Reich Ministry for Science, Eduation, and National Education in Berlin on February 1, 1940, supplement to the Reichsgesetzblatt, part 1, 9 (1940), 49–56, 54, contained in AOeAW, general documents, 30/1940. 63 Welcome letter from Heinrich von Srbik to the President of the German Research Council, Rudolf Mentzel, Vienna, February  10, 1940, AOeAW, general documents, 30/1940. 64 “Opening Speech of the President of the Academy of Sciences, Heinrich Ritter von Srbik,” Almanach der Akademie der Wissenschaften in Wien für das Jahr 1940 90 (1941): 156. 65 Letter from Karl Theodor Vahlen to Heinrich von Srbik, Berlin, September 3, 1940, AOeAW, German Reich Academy of Sciences 296/1940, supplement “preliminary draft for the statutes of the German Reich Academy of Sciences,” fol. 1–8 and fol. 2. See further Felicitas Seebacher, “ ‘Increase the achievements of German science by all available means’: The National Socialist Project of the Reich Academy of German Sciences,” in The Academy of Sciences in Vienna 1938 to 1945, ed. Johannes Feichtinger et al. (Vienna: Austrian Academy of Science Press, 2014). 66 Letter from Karl Theodor Vahlen to Heinrich von Srbik, Berlin, September 3, 1940, AOeAW, German Reich Academy of Sciences 296/1940, supplement “preliminary draft for the statutes of the German Reich Academy of Sciences,” fol. 1–8. 67 See ibid., letter from Karl Theodor Vahlen to Heinrich von Srbik, November  20, 1940; enclosed clips from articles in the media about the German Reich Academy of Sciences. 68 Jürgen Elvert, Mitteleuropa! Deutsche Pläne zur europäischen Neuordnung (1918– 1945) (Stuttgart: Steiner, 1999), 328. 69 The claim of “German sciences” for the guidance in Europe/International Union, letter from Karl Theodor Vahlen to Heinrich von Srbik, Berlin, November  23, 1940, AOeAW, German Reich Academy of Sciences 399/1940. 70 Letter from Bernhard Rust to all German universities, including Austria, Berlin, October 7, 1938, AOeAW, general documents, 372/1938. 71 See ibid., enclosure memorandum, report of the laboratory Voor Aero-En Hydrodynamica of the Technical Hoogeschool to Sir Henry Lyone, secretary general of the International Council of Scientific Unions, Burlington House, London W., Delft, March 31, 1937, 1–6. 72 The claim of “German science” for the guidance in Europe/International Union, letter Vahlen to Srbik, Berlin, November 23, 1940, AOeAW, German Reich Academy of Sciences 399/1940. 73 Letter from Karl Friedrich Drescher-Kaden to Karl Theodor Vahlen, Göttingen, December 20, 1940, AOeAW, German Reich Academy of Sciences 399/1940. 74 Letter from Theodor Vahlen to Heinrich von Srbik, Berlin, May  5, 1941, AOeAW, Union Académique Internationale, 1/B, 121/1941. 75 Ibid., letter from Heinrich von Srbik to Theodor Vahlen, Vienna, May 29, 1941. 76 Heinrich von Srbik, “Opening Speech of the President of the Academy of Sciences,” Almanach der Akademie der Wissenschaften in Wien (Societät der Reichsakademie) für das Jahr 1941 91 (1941): 167.

218  Felicitas Seebacher 77 Heinrich Ritter von Srbik, “Opening Speech of the President of the Academy of Sciences,” Almanach der Akademie der Wissenschaften in Wien (Societät der Reichsakademie) für das Jahr 1942 92 (1942): 170–171. 78 Ibid., 171. 79 On the conflicts with members of the Nazi Party, see Derndarsky, “Österreich und die ‘Deutsche Einheit,’ ” 174–176. 80 See Matis, “Reden des Akademiepräsidenten Srbik,” 104. 81 Heinrich von Srbik, letter to Wilhelm Bauer, Vienna, February 25, 1945, in Heinrich Ritter von Srbik, ed. Kämmerer, 562. 82 Adam Wandruszka, “Heinrich Ritter von Srbik – Leben und Werk,” Anzeiger der phil.hist. Klasse der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften 115 (1978): 361. 83 Heinrich von Srbik, letter to Hans Rothfels, Ehrwald, Tyrol, February  10, 1949, in Heinrich Ritter von Srbik, ed. Kämmerer, 564. 84 Seidler, “Die akademische Elite,” 16. 85 Heiss, “Die ‘Wiener Schule der Geschichtswissenschaft,” 397. 86 Ibid., 398. 87 Pesditschek, “Heinrich (Ritter von) Srbik (1878–1951): ‘Meine Liebe. . .,’ ” 286. 88 Ibid., 305. 89 Derndarsky, “Österreich und die ‘Deutsche Einheit,’ ” 480. 90 Matthias Zimmer, Moderne, Staat und Internationale Politik (Wiesbaden: VS Verlag für Sozialwissenschaften, 2008), 82.

Bibliography Archives AOeAW: Archive of the Austrian Academy of Sciences (Archiv der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften), Vienna.

Books and articles Ash, Mitchell, Wolfram Niess, and Ramon Pils. “Geisteswissenschaften im Nationalsozialismus: Das Beispiel der Universität Wien – Konzept, Fragestellungen, Erkenntnisse.” In Geisteswissenschaften im Nationalsozialismus: Das Beispiel der Universität Wien, edited by Mitchell Ash, Wolfram Niess, and Ramon Pils, 17–46. Vienna: Vienna University Press, 2010. Badash, Lawrence. “British and American Views of the German Menace in World War I.” Notes and Records of the Royal Society in London 34, no. 1 (1979): 91–121. Derndarsky, Michael. “Österreich und die ‘Deutsche Einheit’: Studien zu Heinrich von Srbik und seiner gesamtdeutschen Geschichtsauffassung.” Unpublished habilitation treatise, Alpen-Adria-Universität Klagenfurt, 1989. Elvert, Jürgen. “Geschichtswissenschaft.” In Die Rolle der Geisteswissenschaften im Dritten Reich 1933–1945, edited by Frank-Rutger Hausmann, 87–136. Munich: Oldenburg, 2002. ———. Mitteleuropa! Deutsche Pläne zur europäischen Neuordnung (1918–1945). Stuttgart: Steiner, 1999. Gonen, Jay Y. The Roots of Nazi Psychology: Hitler’s Utopian Barbarism. Lexington, Kentucky: University Press of Kentucky, 2000. Grau, Conrad. “Die Wissenschaftsakademien in der deutschen Gesellschaft: Das ‘Kartell’ von 1893 bis 1940.” In Die Elite der Nation im Dritten Reich: Das

Building a New Europe on “German” science  219 Verhältnis von Akademien und ihrem wissenschaftlichen Umfeld zum Nationalsozialismus – Leopoldina-Symposion vom 9. bis 11. Juni 1994 in Schweinfurt, edited by Eduard Seidler, 31–56. Halle (Saale): Barth, 1995. Heiss, Gernot. “Die ‘Wiener Schule der Geschichtswissenschaft’ im Nationalsozialismus: ‘Harmonie kämpfender und Rankescher erkennender Wissenschaft’?” In Geisteswissenschaften im Nationalsozialismus: Das Beispiel der Universität Wien, edited by Mitchell Ash, Wolfram Niess, and Ramon Pils, 397–426. Vienna: Vienna University Press, 2010. John, Jürgen. “ ‘Not deutscher Wissenschaft’? Hochschulwandel, Universitätsidee und akademischer Krisendiskurs in der Weimarer Republik.” In Gebrochene Wissenschafts­ kulturen: Universität und Politik im 20. Jahrhundert, edited by Michael Grüttner, Rüdiger Hachtmann, Konrad H. Jarausch, Jürgen John, and Matthias Middell, 107–140. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2010. Kämmerer, Jürgen, ed., Heinrich Ritter von Srbik: Die wissenschaftliche Korrespondenz des Historikers 1912–1945. Boppard am Rhein: Boldt, 1988. Matis, Herbert. “Reden des Akademiepräsidenten Heinrich (von) Srbik anläßlich der Feierlichen Sitzungen.” In Die Akademie der Wissenschaften in Wien 1938 bis 1945: Katalog zur Ausstellung, edited by Johannes Feichtinger, Herbert Matis, Stefan Sienell, and Heidemarie Uhl, 97–104. Vienna: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, 2013. ———. “Speeches by Academy President Heinrich (von) Srbik at the Ceremonial Sessions.” In The Academy of Sciences in Vienna 1938 to 1945, edited by Johannes Feichtinger, Herbert Matis, Stefan Sienell, and Heidemarie Uhl, together with Silke Fengler, 93–100. Vienna: Austrian Academy of Sciences Press, 2014. ———. Zwischen Anpassung und Widerstand: Die Akademie der Wissenschaften 1938– 1945. Vienna: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, 1997. Meister, Richard. Geschichte der Akademie der Wissenschaften in Wien 1847–1947. Vienna: Adolf Holzhausens NFG, 1947. ———. “Mitglieder der mathematisch-naturwissenschaftlichen Klasse: Ausländer.” Almanach der Akademie der Wissenschaften für das Jahr 1938–88 (1939): 30–31. ———. “Mitglieder der philosophisch-historischen Klasse: Ordentliche Mitglieder.” Almanach der Akademie der Wissenschaften für das Jahr 1938–88 (1939): 31–34. Pesditschek, Martina. “Heinrich (Ritter von) Srbik (1878–1951): ‘Meine Liebe gehört bis zu meinem Tod meiner Familie, dem deutschen Volk, meiner österreichischen Heimat und meinen Schülern’.” In Österreichische Historiker: Lebensläufe und Karrieren 1900–1945. Vol. 2, edited by Karel Hruza, 263–328. Vienna, Cologne, and Weimar: Böhlau, 2012. ————. “Heinrich (Ritter von) Srbik (1878–1951) und die Akademie der Wissenschaften.” In Die Akademie der Wissenschaften in Wien 1938 bis 1945: Katalog zur Ausstellung, edited by Johannes Feichtinger, Herbert Matis, Stefan Sienell, and Heidemarie Uhl, 37–46. Vienna: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, 2013. ———. “Heinrich (Ritter von) Srbik (1878–1951) and the Academy of Sciences.” In The Academy of Sciences in Vienna 1938 to 1945, edited by Johannes Feichtinger, Herbert Matis, Stefan Sienell, and Heidemarie Uhl, together with Silke Fengler, 35–43. Vienna: Austrian Academy of Sciences Press, 2014. ———. “Heinrich (Ritter von) Srbik. Historiker, Unterrichtsminister, Reichstagsabgeordneter im Nationalsozialismus.” In Universität – Politik – Gesellschaft, edited by Mitchell Ash and Josef Ehmer, 293–298. Göttingen: Vienna University Press/V & R unipress, 2015.

220  Felicitas Seebacher Pringle, Heather. The Master Plan: Himmler’s Scholars and the Holocaust. London: Fourth Estate, 2006. Seebacher, Felicitas. “ ‘Increase the Achievements of German Science by all Available Means’: The National Socialist Project of the Reich Academy of German Sciences.” In The Academy of Sciences in Vienna 1938 to 1945, edited by Johannes Feichtinger, Herbert Matis, Stefan Sienell, and Heidemarie Uhl, together with Silke Fengler, 141–148. Vienna: Austrian Academy of Sciences Press, 2014. ———. “The ‘National Honor’ of German Academies: The Vienna Academy Caught Between National and International Academic Cooperations.” In The Academy of Sciences in Vienna 1938 to 1945, edited by Johannes Feichtinger, Herbert Matis, Stefan Sienell, and Heidemarie Uhl, together with Silke Fengler, 133–140. Vienna: Austrian Academy of Sciences Press, 2014. ———. “ ‘Science  – for the Glory of the German People’: Construction and Destruction of Scientific Cosmopolitanism by National Ideologies at the Academy of Sciences in Vienna.” In Scientific Cosmopolitanism and Local Cultures: Religions, Ideologies, Societies, Proceedings of 5th International Conference of the European Society for the History of Science, edited by Gianna Katsiampoura, 149–158. Athens: National Hellenic Research Foundation/Institute of Historical Research 2014. http://5eshs.hpdst.gr/ sites/5eshs.hpdst.gr/files/5eshs-proceedings.pdf. Seidler, Eduard. “Die akademische Elite und der neue Staat.” In Die Elite der Nation im Dritten Reich: Das Verhältnis von Akademien und ihrem wissenschaftlichen Umfeld zum Nationalsozialismus – Leopoldina-Symposion vom 9. bis 11 Juni 1994 in Schweinfurt, edited by Eduard Seidler, 15–28. Halle (Saale): Barth, 1995. Von Srbik, Heinrich. “ ‘Die deutsche Wissenschaft und die Wiener Akademie im Großdeutschen Reich’: Vortrag, gehalten in der satzungsmäßigen Jahressitzung der Aka­ demie am 23. November  1938.” Almanach der Akademie der Wissenschaften für das Jahr 1938–88 (1939): 163–178. ———. Deutsche Einheit: Idee und Wirklichkeit vom Heiligen Reich bis Königgrätz. Vol. 1 and 2. Munich: Bruckmann, 1935. ———. Deutsche Einheit: Idee und Wirklichkeit von Villafranca bis Königgrätz. Vol. 3 and 4. Munich: Bruckmann, 1942. ———. “Eröffnungsansprache des Präsidenten der Akademie der Wissenschaften.” Almanach der Akademie der Wissenschaften in Wien für das Jahr 1940–90 (1941): 155–156. ———. “Eröffnungsansprache des Präsidenten der Akademie der Wissenschaften.” Almanach der Akademie der Wissenschaften in Wien (Societät der Reichsakademie) für das Jahr 1941–91 (1941): 167–169. ———. “Eröffnungsansprache des Präsidenten der Akademie der Wissenschaften in Wien.” Almanach der Akademie der Wissenschaften in Wien (Societät der Reichsaka­ demie) für das Jahr 1942–92 (1942): 169–172. ———. Metternich: Der Staatsmann und der Mensch. Vol. 1 and 2. Munich: Bruckmann, 1925. ———. Metternich: Der Staatsmann und der Mensch. Vol. 3: Quellenveröffentlichungen und Literatur – Eine Auswahlübersicht von 1925–1952. Munich: Bruckmann, 1954. ———. Mitteleuropa: Das Problem und die Versuche seiner Lösung in der deutschen Geschichte – Vortrag, gehalten bei der Jahresversammlung der Gesellschaft für Rhei­ nische Geschichtskunde und der Arbeitsgemeinschaft der Rheinischen Geschichtsvereine am 12. Februar 1937 in der Aula der Universität Köln. Weimar: Böhlau, 1937. ———. Wallensteins Ende: Ursachen, Verlauf und Folgen der Katastrophe. Vienna: Seidel, 1920.

Building a New Europe on “German” science  221 Späth, Ernst. “Bericht über die Tätigkeit und über die Veränderungen der Akademie der Wissenschaften und der mathematisch-naturwissenschaftlichen Klasse vom 7. Juni 1939 bis 31. Mai 1940.” Almanach der Akademie der Wissenschaften in Wien für das Jahr 1940–1990 (1941): 157–166. ———. “Vorläufige Satzung der Akademie der Wissenschaften in Wien.” Almanach der Akademie der Wissenschaften in Wien für das Jahr 1938–1988 (1939): 9–16. Walter, Peter Th. “ ‘Arisierung,’ Nazifizierung und Militarisierung: Die Akademie im ‘Dritten Reich.’ ” In Die Preußische Akademie der Wissenschaften zu Berlin 1914–1945, edited by Wolfram Fischer, 87–118. Berlin: Akademie-Verlag, 2000. Wandruszka, Adam. “Heinrich Ritter von Srbik: Leben und Werk.” In Anzeiger der phil.hist. Klasse der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften 115 (1978): 352–365. Winau, Rolf. “Die Preußische Akademie der Wissenschaften im Dritten Reich.” In Die Elite der Nation im Dritten Reich: Das Verhältnis von Akademien und ihrem wissenschaftlichen Umfeld zum Nationalsozialismus – Leopoldina-Symposion vom 9. bis 11. Juni 1994 in Schweinfurt, edited by Eduard Seidler, 75–85. Halle (Saale): Barth, 1995. Zimmer, Matthias. Moderne, Staat und Internationale Politik. Wiesbaden: VS Verlag für Sozialwissenschaften, 2008.

Part III

Economy

12 Völkisch ideology within the Central European Economic Conference (Mitteleuropäischer Wirtschaftstag) Markus Wien If we were to consider the adjective völkisch as synonymous with “National Socialist,” we might address the topic of this chapter simply by considering the ideological proximities between the Central European Economic Conference (Mitteleuropäischer Wirtschaftstag, or MWT) and the Nazi regime. In doing so, we might attempt to measure the influence of National Socialist ideology on the MWT by the number of “Nazis” among the leading ranks of the organization or the frequency with which it voiced National Socialist views or employed Nazi terminology. The behavior of leading MWT members might also serve as an indicator of the organization’s proximity to the Nazi regime. Such an approach, however, would unnecessarily narrow our perspective and therefore prevent us from giving an accurate analysis of the various schools of völkisch thought within the MWT. First, the simple assumption of a one-to-one correspondence between völkisch thought and National Socialism is not tenable. Nazi ideology and völkisch thought differ significantly from each other with respect to their time frames and their organizational and political dimensions. Hitler himself repeatedly criticized the various völkisch organizations active in the Weimar Republic as “dreamers” who were incapable of translating their views into practical policies.1 Likewise, a purely empirical approach that investigated instances of collaboration between the MWT and Nazi organizations would also be too simplistic if it simply used such factual information as “evidence” for or against the MWT’s völkisch or National Socialist character. This remains true in spite of the clear relevance of such information to the questions addressed in this chapter. There are two underlying reasons for this, which at first sight may appear trivial. One of these is that focusing narrowly on observable Nazi activities within the MWT and equating these with völkisch thought may serve to obscure those strands of völkisch thought that are not directly associated with the Nazi party or its ideology. The second is that völkisch thought may have played an influential role within the MWT even if it was not always obvious. It would therefore seem necessary to consider the intellectual environment and the zeitgeist in which the MWT operated. This “environment” cannot simply be equated with the National Socialist era (i.e., the years between 1933 and 1945); it also includes the people,

226  Markus Wien organizations, and intellectual milieu surrounding the MWT (i.e., German economic and academic elites). This means that an investigation of völkisch thought within the MWT should be approached from two perspectives. First, it should consider the extent of the MWT’s direct involvement in the activities of the Nazi regime; second, it should assess its links to völkisch intellectual and material structures outside the organizational framework and timespan of this regime. From the latter perspective, one key task is to situate the MWT within its overall historical context (i.e., the aforementioned zeitgeist). The first of these perspectives in particular serves to highlight the problematic character of the relations between the MWT and völkisch thought. The main reason for this problematic character would become evident simply through considering the possible “overlaps” between Nazi organizations/the Nazi regime and the MWT. Such an examination would likely lead to the conclusion that völkisch thought within the MWT was of marginal importance at best. The fact that one of the MWT’s leading figures, its chairman Tilo von Wilmowsky, was arrested shortly before the end of the Second World War on suspicion of collaborating with the resistance movement responsible for the assassination attempt on Hitler on 20 July 1944, would seem to offer significant support for this conclusion.2 Beyond this fact there is little evidence of any direct connections between the MWT and the Nazi regime, whether in the form of leading Nazis within MWT structures or MWT representatives within Nazi organizations. This, in any case, is how the situation is depicted in Carl Freytag’s comprehensive study of the MWT, Deutschlands “Drang nach Südosten.” Assessing the extent of the völkisch character of the MWT by way of its proximity to National Socialism leads Freytag to conclude that this proximity was rather slight. In Freytag’s view, there is no evidence of the systematic presence of core elements of Nazi ideology, such as racism and anti-Semitism, in the interactions between MWT representatives and Southeast European Jews.3 Instances of simultaneous membership of the MWT and Nazi organizations, such as Wilmowsky’s membership in the NSDAP (terminated in any case through his “expulsion” from the party following the events of 20 July 1944) seem not to have exerted any significant influence on the MWT’s ideological orientation. On the contrary, the clearly Nazicontrolled Southeast Europe Society (Südosteuropa-Gesellschaft, SOEG) repeatedly accused the MWT of being too “Jew-friendly.”4 Aside from the question of anti-Semitism, our analysis of ideology-driven attitudes also requires us to consider the MWT’s views on Southeast Europe as a region. Even here, however, it is difficult to demonstrate any significant proximity between the MWT and Nazi ideology. On the contrary, the organization’s activities rather tend to suggest that the MWT tried to distance itself from National Socialist views. One of the key reasons for this was surely that the MWT did not wish to raise the suspicion among the countries of Southeast Europe that it might try to subject them to some form of German economic hegemony. German expansionist aspirations, which had become evident – at the very latest – by the outset of the Second World War, in tandem with the activities of the MWT’s

Völkisch ideology within the MWT 227 competitors, such as the SOEG, were a potential threat to the MWT’s plans for Southeast Europe – at least to the extent that external observers did not differentiate between the MWT’s plans and the Nazi conception of Lebensraum (living space). There are numerous indications that the leading figures of the MWT were aware of this problem, the significance of which grew in the wake of the Balkan campaign of April 1941. As a result, the organization’s leaders attempted to tackle it pro-actively.5 They of course did not do so by openly opposing the Nazi regime, nor by voicing strategic objections to the policies of the German occupying forces in Serbia and Greece, nor by objecting to the way in which the war was being waged on the Eastern front. Instead, it would appear that the MWT attempted to give the impression that its plans and ideas did not interfere with those of the regime, so that both the MWT’s and Nazis’ plans could be carried out alongside one another, without any conflict between them. In addition, the MWT was keen to communicate this message not just to the Southeast European countries but also to the Nazi regime itself, in order to avoid being subjected to intensive surveillance measures and political coercion. Ultimately, it would appear that the MWT pursued a strategy of conflict avoidance both towards Southeast Europe and the Nazi regime. Its aim in doing so was to continue its activities in the region without any major interference, even after the onset of the war. To this end, the organization developed various argumentative strategies. One of these sought more or less clearly to defuse the concerns of the Southeast European economic elites that their countries might become dependent on Germany in a semi-colonial manner. At the same time, it also aimed to curb the most uncompromising German ambitions by arguing that the only successful foreign economic policy would be a well-meaning program that respected the interests of the countries in the region. Similar statements were repeatedly made in the course of internal and public MWT events. The following remarks from Chairman Ulrich von Hassell highlight this approach particularly succinctly: German interests are, of course, the absolute criterion for any German policy. It is, however, inherent to these interests that we understand the concepts “leadership” and “order” in a way that allows all involved nations to feel that they have found the right place within this order.6 Alongside such statements, which only refer implicitly to the Nazi regime’s aggressive expansionism, there are also statements from the MWT that refer quite explicitly to aspects of Nazi ideology. These can be regarded as a second argumentative strategy. One particularly prominent example is the MWT’s remarks on Hitler’s view that German expansionist policy had to pursue the goal of acquiring new living space in the East. At a lecture event organized by the MWT in Belgrade in October  1943, the organization used the Nazi term Lebensraum, but explained that where Southeast Europe was concerned, the term had a different meaning. According to the MWT’s managing director Max Ilgner, Lebensraum did not involve considering Southeast Europe as a region in which Germany was

228  Markus Wien planning for Germans to settle and live. Instead, it involved viewing the region as enjoying close economic relations with Germany: Together, Germany and the countries of the Southeast constitute a Lebens­ raum. . . . Those who are familiar with the conditions in the countries of the Southeast know that the concept of Lebensraum cannot refer to an area where Germany wants its citizens to settle and live, but an area coexisting with Germany and having close economic ties with it.7 This statement again shows that the MWT pursued a double strategy towards the Nazi regime. This strategy nonetheless only had one goal: to protect the continuity of its policy against all possible interference, either at the hands of the regime or as a result of the war in general. This policy, which dated back to the early 1930s and in part even to the 1920s, was oriented towards the establishment of a German-dominated Großwirtschaftsraum (Greater Economic Area) in Southeast Europe. In the eyes of the MWT, this project could only succeed if the predominantly agrarian countries in the region were also able to benefit from it. During the war, leading MWT representatives repeatedly emphasized this pursuit of continuity. It was made most explicit in a statement given shortly after the outbreak of war, according to which the war had changed neither the conceptual foundations of the MWT nor the general conditions under which the organization was working in Southeast Europe. The economist Hermann Gross, professor at the Vienna College for International Commerce, re-stated this opinion in the lecture he delivered at the aforementioned lecture event in Belgrade in 1943.8 The MWT’s strategy was thus twofold: first, it avoided references to Nazi ideology or the Nazi regime simply by not mentioning them; second, it adopted Nazi terminology but reinterpreted it for its own purposes. This approach was of course most problematic and at the same time most revealing in the context of the MWT’s tense relations with the National Socialists regarding the occupied countries of Southeast Europe (i.e., Serbia and parts of Greece). In these two countries it seemed almost impossible not to view German economic activities as part of the Nazi policy of occupation and subjugation. Nevertheless, the MWT, represented by Hermann Gross, attempted to do precisely this. At the aforementioned lecture event in Belgrade, which was part of the Wehrmacht’s “Academic Weeks” program, Gross attempted to explain to an audience of army officers the MWT’s views on the countries of Southeast Europe, including their implications for the MWT’s work. In addition, he tried to convince the officers that a repressive occupation policy was economically counterproductive: A tactical approach would be much more promising even from a material point of view. It would require us to give the Southeast European nations, which, for historical reasons, are very sensitive on a personal as well as national level, the feeling of independence and self-determination.  .  .  . In contrast to that, authoritarian or military methods are certainly inadequate in the context of Southeast Europe.9

Völkisch ideology within the MWT  229 Given this indirect yet still clear criticism of Germany’s occupation policy, Gross’s characterization of the behavior of German soldiers would seem to amount more to a request than to a depiction of reality: “The helpfulness and comradely behavior of the German soldiers . . . towards the local population . . . have generally created a high level of trust in Germany.”10 Both the content and form of the statements made by Gross in his capacity as an MWT representative indicate that the MWT did not regard itself as the executor of National Socialist expansionist policies, but rather as a proponent of German economic interests in Southeast Europe. In the eyes of the MWT, these interests had arisen long before the Nazis came to power in Germany and were supposed to remain untarnished by the war. At the same time, these interests explain the careful character of these and other MWT statements, which avoided criticizing the regime directly, while voicing concerns about the realities of the occupation policies. Whether these attempts to avoid interference from the Nazi regime in Southeast Europe or to “soften” the occupation policies allow us to draw any conclusions about the ideological orientation of the MWT’s leadership nonetheless remains unclear. In any case, these attempts on the part of the MWT seem not to exclude the possibility of at least occasional cooperation with representatives of the Nazi state – whether from a purely technical or from an ideological perspective. Evidence of such collaboration can be found, for instance, in connection with the MWT’s Germany Grants (Deutschland-Stipendien des Mitteleuropäi­ schen Wirtschaftstages). From 1936 on, these grants were awarded to Southeast European students of economic, technological, and medical disciplines in order to allow them to spend extended academic stays in Germany.11 The foundation’s first annual report shows that the selection committee consisted in part of individuals clearly affiliated to the Nazi regime. These included the president of the German Academic Exchange Service (Deutscher Akademischer Austauschdienst, DAAD), SS-Brigadeführer Ewald von Massow, and high-level representatives of the governmental apparatus. Likewise, the NSDAP representatives of the respective German embassies were also involved.12 Regardless of the actual influence of these “Nazis” on the selection of the grant winners, one particular criterion clearly guided the committee’s deliberations, as is made clear in the annual report’s request for future submissions: “We request that applicants of Jewish blood be kept from submitting applications for the grant in a suitable way – for example, by pointing out the high number of applications.”13 Nevertheless, considering the emphasis the MWT placed on ensuring it could continue its work with as little external interference as possible, such evidence of personal and ideological collaboration should not be interpreted as much more than a manifestation of the aforementioned avoidance strategy. From this perspective, Carl Freytag was correct to reject the notion that the MWT was explicitly National Socialist in character.14 Furthermore, völkisch elements within the MWT’s conceptual thinking might, as suggested previously, manifest themselves in areas outside of the MWT’s direct relations with the Nazi regime. It is therefore important to consider the organization’s institutional and intellectual environment (i.e., the influences upon it and the zeitgeist in which it was situated).

230  Markus Wien The MWT’s connections both to research institutions dedicated to Southeast Europe (most of which were established during the 1930s) and to the general research trends relating to the region may help to provide some insight into the question of the MWT’s “völkischness.” Here we should again emphasize that the proximity between the MWT and National Socialism, on the one hand, and the extent of its völkisch orientation, on the other, cannot be considered one and the same question – and not only on account of the different time frames of these movements. In concrete terms, most of the research institutes that provided academic support for the MWT after its re-establishment in Germany at the beginning of the 1930s had been founded before the Nazis came to power or even before the MWT became the main agent of German economic interests in Southeast Europe in 1931.15 In this connection, we can note a number of such institutes, including the Eastern Europe Institute, which was established in Breslau in 1918. During the 1930s it increasingly focused its research activities on Southeast Europe. Another important institution was the Leipzig Institute for Central and Southeast European Economic Research (Institut für Mittel- und Südosteuropäische Wirtschaftsforschung), founded in 1928. Among the institutes that began work in the 1930s, Munich’s Southeast Institute (Südost-Institut), established in 1930, seems to have been the most prominent.16 Its existence largely overlaps with the period of the Nazi dictatorship, and it is therefore important not to neglect this historical context. Nevertheless, certain schools of German ethnological research (Volks­ tumsforschung) dating back to the late nineteenth century, which are also pertinent to National Socialist ideology, would appear to play a more significant role here. These would allow for the possibility that, during the 1930s, the MWT was influenced, among other things, by völkisch concepts (i.e., ethnocentric intellectual ideas) that were not simply the result of pressure from the regime. According to Willi Oberkrome, these concepts belonged to a “branch of mainstream German historiography” and significantly influenced “large swathes of research on Southeast Europe up until the 1950s.”17 This ethnocentric school of thought came to be established within the German humanitarian, cultural, and social sciences around the turn of the twentieth century. It shifted the focus of academic discourse increasingly towards categories of cultural space and quasi-tribal communities (Landsmannschaften). This intellectual trend became increasingly important after the First World War. As a result of German territorial losses and the collapse of the Habsburg Monarchy, the German minorities in some of the successor states were now left to themselves, and it therefore seemed necessary to provide some form of special protection for the threatened “national substance” (Volkssubstanz). As Oberkrome notes, terms such as “border defense” (Grenzkampf) and “homeland service” (Heimatdienst) thus became common currency.18 From the outset (i.e., shortly after the First World War), this tendency was bolstered by the aforementioned academic institutions – and by others, including the Centers for Research on Cultural Space (Kulturraumforschung) in Bonn, Leipzig, and Innsbruck, and the Foundation for Research on National and Cultural Soil (Stiftung für deutsche Volks- und Kulturbodenforschung).19 Within this context,

Völkisch ideology within the MWT  231 concepts such as “Volkstum” (national traditions), “Kulturboden” (cultural soil), and “Kulturraum” (cultural space) provided a crucial orientation and conceptual framework for the work conducted by these institutes, while also granting it political relevance and “applicability.” In light of the outcome of the First World War, the key priority was the protection and defense of German culture (Deutschtum) in East-Central and Southeast Europe. The notions of “Volkstum” and “Raum” were supposed to make the presence of German minorities in this area seem selfevident and natural.20 German research on East-Central and Southeast Europe therefore initially focused exclusively on German minorities. The Southeast Institute was no exception to this rule, since it had originally been established under the name “Institute for Research on German Volkstum in the South and Southeast” (Institut zur Erforschung des deutschen Volkstums im Süden und Südosten).21 From this perspective, it seems that this academic struggle for the protection of German Volkstum was not directly connected to the concepts and activities of the MWT. Rather than seeking to secure the interests of German minorities, the MWT was concerned to create a German-dominated Greater Economic Area in Southeast Europe. The use of the term Central Europe (Mitteleuropa) as part of the organization’s name might be a source of confusion here, since the MWT always focused on Southeast Europe. “Central Europe” was frequently used as a synonym for “Südosteuropa.”22 Distinguishing between the concepts invoked by the MWT and the ideology of German Volkstum is nonetheless only possible from a superficial perspective. A closer consideration and deeper analysis would reveal numerous links between the two, which would likely offer us the clearest insight into the role of völkisch thought within the MWT. This would be manifested not only in instances of direct cooperation between Volkstum-oriented institutes and the MWT, but also in the broader intellectual climate created or amplified by such institutes. Though the MWT did not focus its efforts on supporting German minorities in Southeast Europe, its leading figures understood the character and functions of the region in a way that reflected the predominant views of these research institutes. This alone opened up various opportunities for mutual cooperation. Regardless of the fact that the MWT was mainly interested in economic cooperation with the Southeast European countries and attempted to depict this cooperation in a way that was attractive to these countries (despite Germany’s anticipated leading role in relation to them) there were at least two ways in which its work overlapped with that of the institutes promoting German Volkstum. First, where one of its key concepts was concerned, namely the Greater Economic Area, the MWT adopted a völkisch notion of space. Assuming that Southeast Europe was a natural area of German influence, a “Hinterland,” the MWT assigned the region certain qualities that accorded with its predetermined and supposedly natural function of supplying Germany with agricultural products and raw materials: “Germany exports . . . high quality goods and know-how, i.e. ‘labor,’ and imports products from the primary sector, i.e. ‘soil,’ which as a nation without space [Volk ohne Raum] we ourselves lack.”23 Second, the German minorities in Southeast Europe played a

232  Markus Wien part in linking the MWT and the proponents of German Volkstum, since the MWT sought to enlist their support in fostering pro-German attitudes and popularizing its own projects.24 On the other hand, the MWT did not regard it as part of its mission to support these minority groups in defending their own identity against a largely Slavic environment. Acting on the basis of traditional concepts of space, the MWT stated that it accepted their “scientific” foundations, as provided by the institutes responsible for promoting German Volkstum. In addition, it would seem fair to say that, whether willingly or not, the MWT facilitated the work of the proponents of German Volkstum, insofar as the establishment of its Greater Economic Area (in point of fact prevented by the developments of the Second World War) would have subjected Southeast Europe to such strong German influence that the proponents of German Volkstum could have carried out their plans without meeting significant resistance. It would be too simplistic, however, to regard this de facto collaboration between the MWT and the proponents of German Volkstum as a side effect or even as somehow unintended. The roles mapped out for Germany and the Southeast European countries in the MWT’s plans were too clear to make such a view tenable. This was also clearly implied in MWT discussions on the potential socioeconomic modernization of the region, including its industrialization. The MWT leadership did not intend to impose any artificial impediments to such developments, since they were regarded as being in Germany’s own interest, yet it was the latter that was clearly prioritized. Modernization, and to a certain extent industrialization, seemed both desirable and realistic to the MWT, yet only insofar as it enabled the countries of Southeast Europe to play their prescribed role in its plans. Only those industries that would be dedicated to processing and preserving agricultural products for their transportation to Germany were to be developed. In addition, industries serving the exploitation of raw materials were to be supported. There is no reasonable doubt that these ideas were rooted in historical German conceptions of “Central Europe” (Mitteleuropa) that predate the First World War. The most prominent modern elaboration on these concepts was given in Fried­ rich Naumann’s 1915 book, Mitteleuropa. The previously mentioned institutes, which were mostly linked with the Foundation for Research on German National and Cultural Soil (Stiftung für deutsche Volks- und Kulturbodenforschung), established in Leipzig in 1928, were rooted in the same traditions. This was also true of the Munich-based Southeast Institute, which regarded itself as a “scientific defense institute for the Southeast.”25 These institutes’ Volkstum research and the MWT’s plans to establish a Greater Economic Area under German leadership can therefore be seen as two sides of the same coin. This is not only true at the conceptual level, but also at the personal, organizational, and financial levels. German governments before and after 1933 gave financial support both to the MWT and to these institutes.26 The proximity between these institutes and the MWT is therefore clear. Insofar as it is fair to describe these institutes as völkisch, it would also be fair to situate the MWT within this broadly völkisch context. Even at the time, however, it was known that the struggle for the consolidation of “Deutschtum” and the MWT’s

Völkisch ideology within the MWT  233 notions were not simply complementary. Instead, a certain tension existed between völkisch or romantico-imperial conceptions of Central Europe and the more “realistic” idea of a Greater Economic Area, as propagated by the MWT. According to Carl Freytag, Harald Rumpf complained as late as 1942 that the proposals for “Central Europe” discussed before the First World War had amounted to a purely economic colonization project that lacked any imperial “myth” (Reichsmythus).27 In fact, these pre-war proposals, which anticipated many aspects of the MWT’s plans during the interwar period, were also rooted to some degree in völkisch and romantic views, including the idea that Central and Southeast Europe was a legitimate or even natural site of German expansion. This paternalistic attitude towards the countries of the region, which was also typical of the MWT, was, however, marked by a more economic and pragmatic tone than one would typically expect from völkisch or Nazi actors. As noted previously, the MWT sought to exhibit a certain historical sensitivity towards Southeast Europe and to promote a sympathetic view of Germany. Since many countries in Southeast Europe became increasingly interested in close economic cooperation with Germany during the 1930s, it seemed more advisable for Germany to relate to them, at least on the surface, in a spirit of collaboration rather than as colonists or “imperialists.” In light of the MWT’s “pragmatic” ethno-cultural paternalism, the SOEG characteristically came to distance itself from the MWT. It is also important to note, as Oberkrome does, that even the institutes for Volkstum research fell behind the “ethno-radical” research that was increasingly promoted by the SS from 1935 on.28 This school of research was entirely devoted to providing scientific support for the “Germanization” of the occupied territories. The results of this research were used to justify policies such as Umvolkung (literally “ethnic conversion,” which in this case refers to resettlement policies designed to “re-Germanize” the territories) or “de-judaization” (Entjudung), as conducted by the SS-controlled National Commissariat for the Consolidation of German Volkstum (Reichskommissariat für die Festigung des deutschen Volkstums).29 Yet this did not result in a complete marginalization of existing institutes: The Southeast Institute, for instance, conformed to the new conditions determined by the SS. According to Seewann, this process was driven by Fritz Valjavec, who worked at the institute from 1935 onward, transforming it into an academic “combat instrument” in accordance with the ideas of the SS.30 By contrast, there is no evidence of similar developments having taken place within the MWT, and, in particular, no evidence of any similar involvement in the Nazi expansion plans, even in an academic role. Despite its close relations and collaboration with the institutional proponents of “Volks- und Kulturbodenforschung,” the MWT always remained independent where conceptual issues were concerned, even if its ideological bases were often similar to those of these institutions. The radical ethnic resettlement and cleansing projects of the SS remained alien to the MWT. Altogether, from 1931 until the end of the Second World War, the MWT maintained a remarkable theoretical continuity, regardless of its occasional personal and practical collaboration with the Nazi regime. Far more characteristic of the MWT is its conflict-avoidance strategy, which

234  Markus Wien is clearly evident in the available sources. These sources also suggest that the MWT never actively opposed the regime. More extensive cooperation with the National Socialists, however, was prevented by the fact that the MWT was too deeply rooted in older conceptions and ideas. At the same time, the MWT managed to remain outside the Nazi “line of fire” thanks to its general policy of operating in the background. Whether this general picture allows us to label the MWT as völkisch remains unclear. There is no reasonable doubt that the MWT was influenced by völkisch thought, as indicated by its cooperation with institutes responsible for promoting German Volkstum. Certain common roots between the MWT and these institutes can be traced back to the period prior to the First World War. It would also seem that these commonalities are more pertinent to the question of whether the MWT was influenced by völkisch ideas than its occasional collaboration with the Nazi regime. There is, however, no evidence of connections between the MWT and non-Nazi völkisch organizations during the Weimar period. The völkisch elements of the MWT were therefore mainly a product of the zeitgeist, just like the MWT itself. During the first half of the twentieth century, this zeitgeist was heavily marked by ethnocentric and völkisch thought. These schools of thought originated in the ethnographic traditions of the nineteenth century and persisted for a few decades after the Second World War. Following the end of the Second World War, new employment opportunities thus emerged for quite a number of the interwar proponents of German Volkstum.31 During the interwar period and the Second World War, the MWT had cooperated with these individuals and had used the results of their research for its own ends. At the same time, however, it was too strongly driven by its interests as an economic organization and lobbyist as not to “domesticate” völkisch elements within its outlook, based as it was on success-oriented pragmatism. The political dimensions of the MWT’s concepts differed from those of völkisch institutions or Nazis. The Nazis, who operated on the basis of concepts such as “blood and soil,” along with romantic images of a peasantry that represented the “genetically healthy” (erbgesund) core of the nation, emphasized an ideology of the Lebens­ raum that involved the subjugation and even annihilation of other nations.32 Nevertheless, the MWT also tended to operate with völkisch categories insofar as it assigned specific characteristics, qualities, and functions to the nations addressed by its plans. The MWT’s de facto definition of the economic character of the Southeast European countries as “agrarian” is a case in point. On the other hand, there is no evidence of any agrarian romanticism within the MWT. It rather appears that the organization was deeply connected to the historical context of the industrial age. Even the concept of “Central Europe” was mainly a political and pragmatic one. It was neither based on any romantic or imperial notion nor on any conception of an ultimate confrontation with Bolshevism and Slavic “Untermenschentum” (subhumans). It was rather placed in the service of the creation of a “Greater Economic Area” that would enable Germany to prevail in future conflicts with the Western Powers.

Völkisch ideology within the MWT  235

Notes 1 See: Günter Hartung, s.v. “Völkische Ideologie,” in Handbuch zur “Völkischen Bewegung” 1871–1918, ed. Uwe Puschner et al. (Munich, New Providence and London: K.G. Saur, 1996). See also: Wolfgang Jacobeit et  al., eds., Völkische Wissenschaft: Gestalten und Tendenzen der deutschen und österreichischen Volkskunde in der ersten Hälfte des 20. Jahrhunderts (Vienna, Cologne and Weimar: Böhlau, 1994). 2 Carl Freytag, Deutschlands “Drang nach Südosten”: Der Mitteleuropäische Wirtschaftstag und der “Ergänzungsraum Südosteuropa” 1931–1945 (Vienna: Vienna University Press, 2012), 338–342. 3 Freytag, Drang nach Südosten, 367. 4 Ibid., 365–366. 5 Markus Wien, Markt und Modernisierung: Deutsch-bulgarische Wirtschaftsbeziehungen 1918–1944 in ihren konzeptionellen Grundlagen (Munich: Oldenbourg, 2007), 195–198. 6 Bundesarchiv Berlin (BArch Berlin), R 8119F, P 6137, fol. 57–58. This and all other citations are the author’s own translations from the German. 7 BArch Berlin, R 8119F, P 6135, fol. 400. 8 Wien, Markt und Modernisierung, 202–206. 9 BArch Berlin, R 8119F, P 6145, fol. 48. 10 BArch Berlin, R 8119F, P 6145, fol. 49. 11 Wien, Markt und Modernisierung, 244. 12 Ibid., 245. 13 BArch Berlin, R 8119F, P 6142, fol. 165. 14 Freytag, Deutschlands Drang nach Südosten, 368. 15 Ibid., 87–89. 16 Wien, Markt und Modernisierung, 53. See also: Klaus Thörner, “Der ganze Südosten ist unser Hinterland”: Deutsche Südosteuropapläne von 1840 bis 1945 (Oldenburg: ça ira, 2000), 385–387. 17 Willi Oberkrome, “Regionalismus und historische ‘Volkstumsforschung’ 1890–1960,” in Südostforschung im Schatten des Dritten Reiches, ed. Matthias Beer and Gerhard Seewann (Munich: Oldenbourg, 2004), 39. 18 Ibid., 40–42. 19 Ibid., 43 20 Ibid. 21 Wien, Markt und Modernisierung, 53. 22 Freytag, Drang nach Südosten, 61–62. 23 BArch Berlin, R 8119F, P 6145, fol. 36. See also: Freytag, Drang nach Südosten, 352–354. 24 Wien, Markt und Modernisierung, 323. 25 Gerhard Seewann, “Das Südost-Institut 1930–1960,” in Südostforschung im Schatten des Dritten Reiches, ed. Matthias Beer and Gerhard Seewann (Munich: Oldenbourg, 2004), 49. 26 Ibid. See also: Wien, Markt und Modernisierung, 57–66. 27 Freytag, Drang nach Südosten, 24. 28 Oberkrome, “Regionalismus,” 45. 29 Ibid. 30 Seewann, “Das Südost-Institut,” 56–57. 31 See Hartung and Jacobeit, n. 1. 32 Markus Wien, “Selektive Wissensimporte: Die Beispieldörfer des Mitteleuropäischen Wirtschaftstags im Kontext des bulgarischen landwirtschaftlichen Ausbildungswe­ sens,” in “Mitteleuropa” und “Südosteuropa” als Planungsraum: Wirtschafts- und kulturpolitische Expertisen im Zeitalter der Weltkriege, ed. Carola Sachse (Göttingen: Wallstein 2010).

236  Markus Wien

Bibliography Archives BArch Berlin: Federal Archives Berlin (Bundesarchiv Berlin), Berlin.

Printed sources and literature Freytag, Carl. Deutschlands “Drang nach Südosten”: Der Mitteleuropäische Wirtschafts­ tag und der “Ergänzungsraum Südosteuropa” 1931–1945. Vienna: Vienna University Press, 2012. Hartung, Günter. “Völkische Ideologie.” In Handbuch zur “Völkischen Bewegung” 1871– 1918, edited by Uwe Puschner, Walter Schmitz, and Justus H. Ulbricht, 22–42. Munich, New Providence and London: K.G. Saur, 1996. Jacobeit, Wolfgang, Hannjost Lixfeld, and Olaf Bockhorn, eds. Völkische Wissenschaft: Gestalten und Tendenzen der deutschen und österreichischen Volkskunde in der ersten Hälfte des 20. Jahrhunderts. Vienna, Cologne and Weimar: Böhlau, 1994. Oberkrome, Willi. “Regionalismus und historische ‘Volkstumsforschung’ 1890–1960.” In Südostforschung im Schatten des Dritten Reiches, edited by Matthias Beer and Gerhard Seewann, 39–48. Munich: Oldenbourg, 2004. Seewann, Gerhard. “Das Südost-Institut 1930–1960.” In Südostforschung im Schatten des Dritten Reiches, edited by Matthias Beer and Gerhard Seewann, 49–92. Munich: Oldenbourg, 2004. Thörner, Klaus. “Der ganze Südosten ist unser Hinterland”: Deutsche Südosteuropapläne von 1840 bis 1945. Oldenburg: ça ira, 2000. Wien, Markus. Markt und Modernisierung: Deutsch-bulgarische Wirtschaftsbeziehungen 1918–1944 in ihren konzeptionellen Grundlagen. Munich: Oldenbourg, 2007. ———. “Selektive Wissensimporte: Die Beispieldörfer des Mitteleuropäischen Wirtschaftstag im Kontext des bulgarischen landwirtschaftlichen Ausbildungswesens.” In “Mitteleuropa” und “Südosteuropa” als Planungsraum: Wirtschafts- und kulturpolitische Expertisen im Zeitalter der Weltkriege, edited by Carola Sachse, 340–362. Göttingen: Wallstein, 2010.

13 When ends become means Post-war planning and the exigencies of war in the discussion about a new economic order in Europe (1939–1945) Raimund Bauer A “New Europe” Is Europe in its economic and political fragmentation able to preserve its peace and its political independence from expanding non-European powers – or is it forced to organize in a federation in order to save its existence?1

Richard Coudenhove-Kalergi’s question, as quoted here, suggests the need for a federal solution to overcome the problem of Europe’s potential marginalization. This problem was framed differently by Hans Krebs, an early member of the National Socialist movement, who emphasized the importance of Germany’s role in meeting this challenge: “Is Germany forced to reorganize this continent in order to save her own existence and that of entire Europe?”2 These thinkers’ calls for reorganizing Europe were merely two of the many different perspectives articulated during the interwar period.3 However, in contrast to other plans for European unification, the Wehrmacht’s control over large parts of the continent had ensured that the realization of völkisch plans – like that of Krebs’s – were within grasp by the summer of 1940. Hence, a vivid discussion about the prospect of a “New Order” for a “New Europe” unfolded. This chapter analyzes the German discussion about a new European order during World War II. Naturally, this is not the first attempt to reconstruct Nazi plans for a “New Europe.” In 1955 Paul Kluke traced the significant changes that the “New Order” discussion experienced, delineating two major phases that were intimately connected to Germany’s military fortunes: the ambitious and ruthless planning that occurred after the defeat of France, and the desperate attempt to mobilize solidarity for the German war effort after Stalingrad, as defeat seemed ever-more likely.4 Following the publication of Kluke’s article, however, other authors identified a third phase in the evolution of the discussion. Jörg Hoensch and Karl Heinz Roth, for example, argue that the invasion of the Soviet Union in June 1941 brought about more radical concepts, because Nazi Germany now ruled a vast territory in the East inhabited by allegedly inferior people.5 However, since the Nazis’ “New Order” rhetoric was not directly reflected in their occupation policy, most historians dismiss such rhetoric as mere propaganda.6 Accordingly,

238  Raimund Bauer Mark Mazower claims that, if anything, the “Nazi vision for Europe, . . . belonged to the sphere of economics, not politics.”7 Yet the verdicts of economic historians are also inconsistent. Some, like Hans-Erich Volkmann, argue that the Nazis took concrete steps to realize a new Europe.8 For others, Nazi Germany’s economic policies were solely driven by the necessities of war.9 On the basis of several representative primary sources,10 this chapter argues that the Nazi’s economic “New Order” planning and the war effort were not mutually exclusive but interdependent projects: During its first phase, the discussion about Europe’s future reconciled the wish to immediately boost the war economy with the long-term objectives of a German-led Großraumwirtschaft (see the “Waging war for a ‘New Europe’ section). However, soon after the invasion of the Soviet Union, some began recognizing the contradiction between Nazi Germany’s colonial phantasies and the necessities of war. Nevertheless, the predominant conceptions still pictured the German Herrenmenschen (“master race”) extracting raw materials, foodstuffs, and cheap labor from the occupied eastern territories (see the “Waging war or creating a ‘New Europe’?” section). But calls for a reappraisal grew louder, until short-term economic benefits were finally given priority. Dreaming of a “New Europe” did not cease in the following years, but the war effort became virtually the only acceptable justification. All concepts of an economic “New Order” that could not claim to contribute to the National Socialist war effort – by appealing to the subjugated people for example  – had to be postponed until after the war (see the “A ‘New Europe’ waging war” section). The final section, “The war and ‘New Europe’: a different reading,” summarizes the argument and presents a new interpretation for why Nazi conceptions of the “New Order” started out as a dispute about the war’s long-term purpose and ultimately evolved into a mere instrument of the German war economy.

Waging war for a “New Europe” From 1933 onward, National Socialist Germany became increasingly belligerent internationally, scrapping the Treaty of Versailles by rebuilding its armed forces, remilitarizing the Rhineland, and annexing Austria and the Czech lands. While the creation of Großdeutschland (“Greater Germany”) was the fulfillment of a “centuries-old yearning”11 for some, others’ ambitions continued to grow with Germany’s expanding power. Even though Germany was beginning to establish a “Großwirtschaftsraum” in “Mitteleuropa”12 – a persistent dream of the German Right13 – National Socialist ideology pointed farther east. In the course of the following years, however, the Wehrmacht’s conquests brought Northern and Western Europe under Germany’s control. In these conquered European regions, völkisch visions of Germanization and resettlement14 – the long-term objectives in the “Protectorate of Bohemia and Moravia” and in former Poland15 – seemed out of place. Thus, numerous German ministries and other institutions began addressing how to exploit Germany’s new European dominance. The result was a broad discussion about a “New Order.”

When ends become means  239 For most Nazi officials, it was clear from the outset that Germany’s interests were paramount: Germany now possesses the political power in Europe to reorganize the economy according to her needs. The political will to exercise this power exists. This means that the countries have to align themselves with us. The economies of the other European countries have to adapt to our needs.16 One possible means to this end was the creation of a customs union and the implementation of a common currency.17 In the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Karl Ritter and his colleague Carl Clodius, assistant chairman in the Department of Trade Policy, endorsed these radical measures. After the war, they wanted the Greater German economic sphere to incorporate the Netherlands, Belgium, Luxembourg, Norway, Denmark, Sweden, Finland, the Baltic States, and Southeastern Europe. Germany was already the most important trading partner for some of these states and, by controlling both trade and the currency, others could possibly be dragged into its sphere of influence as well.18 Supplemented by colonies in Africa, and aided by intensified trade with Russia, such a Großwirtschaftsraum would almost be autarkic.19 The Reichswirtschaftsministerium (Reich Economic Ministry) and the Reichsbank (Central Bank) took a similar line: The German Großwirtschaftsraum . . . will be a unitary economy, in which the rhythm of the economy, the focus of production, and the organization of the economy will be decisively determined by the German executive.20 Thus, the crucial question was how Germany’s influence could be secured. However, both institutions opposed the pursuit of complete autarky and the premature creation of a single market and currency. In the long run, these measures would align the different price levels in the participating countries, thereby thwarting Germany’s efforts to supply its own economy with cheap foodstuffs and raw materials.21 Hence, the Reichsbank and the Reich Economic Ministry advocated individual agreements with foreign states that would establish fixed exchange rates, a suitable trade policy, and the supremacy of German economic interests. In doing so, Germany would retain the benefits of hegemony while also gradually paving the way for a prospective European customs and monetary union.22 Additional economic considerations cast the sensibility of a customs and a monetary union into even greater doubt: If European cooperation was to bear fruit, the active and voluntary collaboration of the other countries was essential.23 Instead of formally imposing Germany’s will on other European countries and immediately integrating them into the “New Europe,” Hermann Göring and Walther Funk sought to informally align Europe’s interests with Germany’s long-run interests: The decisive factor has to be to intertwine the European economies and the Greater German economy as completely and closely as possible. In doing so,

240  Raimund Bauer all measures improving the fulfillment of German demand and resulting in an increased influence of the German economy in the different countries have to be prioritized, while conversely all measures being irrelevant from the point of view of our own Greater German interests, can preferably remain undone or can be postponed.24 Hence, according to two of the most powerful men in the German economy, German political and economic power should be used to perpetuate the Reich’s dominance after the war: While the clearing system should grant control of European trade and money transfers,25 private capital was supposed to stabilize the post-war order by expanding its influence in Europe and gaining access to key industries.26 The Reich Economic Ministry even promoted the view that “the European Großraumwirtschaft should arise as a result of private-sector initiative.”27 These calls fell on fertile ground. After years of profits during the armaments boom, German companies were eager to seize every promising investment opportunity.28 Accordingly, some representatives of the German business community entered the newly occupied territories to seize the new economic opportunities they offered.29 Others contacted the Reich Economic Ministry, hoping that they would be assigned the companies they were interested in.30 Furthermore, the “Wirtschaftsgruppen” – organizations that represented the different sectors of German economy – were asked to formulate their requests for the Europe of the future. Depending on their market position, they either agitated for free trade31 or pressed for measures that would enable them to stay competitive after the war.32 Thus, private business was prepared to contribute to, and enjoy, Germany’s dominance in the “New Order.” The war effort was hardly a central motive during the first years of the “New Order” discussion. Gustav Schlotterer, who was responsible for the key principles of the Großraum, gave many presentations to representatives of the German private sector stressing the urgent need to expand German economic dominance.33 His colleague, Hans Kehrl, explicitly told his audiences that talking about the war economy was of no value; what mattered were preparations for the post-war order.34 It was only Göring who pointed out that Europe should have two simultaneous objectives: it should immediately satisfy the economic demands that the German war effort created,35 and, in the long run, Europe should gradually be transformed into a German-dominated continental economy.36 Generally, before the invasion of the Soviet Union, the “New Order” discussion was primarily an economic one. This discussion was principally conducted by private and governmental economic institutions, and it was primarily focused on economic objectives. The immediate needs of the war economy played a role, but, compared to the attention that long-term considerations of post-war planning attracted, it was a minor one. Convinced that the war would soon be won, Nazi officials and German companies eagerly prepared for the economic “New Order,” even if the most suitable way to realize a German-dominated European Großraumwirtschaft remained contested.

When ends become means  241

Waging war or creating a “New Europe”? Germany’s invasion of the Soviet Union fundamentally changed the “New Order” discussion. In the eyes of leading Nazi officials, Germany was now fighting a war, not only for Lebensraum, but also against the Eastern “Jewish-Bolshevist” threat. Instead of valuable industrial potential, the Wehrmacht had conquered vast areas of fertile soil, full of natural resources and allegedly inferior people. Accordingly, the future that Nazi officials foresaw for these territories differed fundamentally from the prospects for Western and Northern Europe. As to Germany’s previous sphere of influence, the long-term concepts did not change: The objective is the Großraumwirtschaft in a continental-European economic block. . . . In order to achieve this objective, a peaceful cooperation and a methodical division of labor between as many European countries as possible is necessary.37 Naturally, Germany claimed the right to lead this European economic cooperation. By increasing the production of raw materials, and by allocating industrial activities to the areas in which they would be carried out most efficiently, Germany sought to sustain its economy and seize the benefits associated with economies of scale.38 Accordingly, German industry was encouraged to outsource parts of its production to free up as much of the labor force as possible for armaments production. Additionally, attempts to gain influence in the key sectors of the occupied territories continued, even though the results had hitherto fallen short of expectations.39 Germany’s plans for the newly occupied Eastern territories were entirely different. For Hitler, the issue of the Soviet Union’s future boiled down to the question of how to cut up this huge cake into manageable chunks.40 Alfred Rosenberg, head of the Ministry for the Occupied Eastern Territories, favored a völkisch order granting the people in the East their own independent states depending upon their racial value.41 Other Nazis, however, refused to endorse any form of statehood for the people of the East.42 For the time being, Reichskommissariate were created, and international mistrust was to be minimized by not revealing Germany’s actual intentions. The murder or coercive resettling of the local population  – deemed necessary in order to enlarge Germany’s Lebensraum – could be carried out anyway.43 Accordingly, German soldiers were told that they were bearers of an “implacable völkisch idea,” they were fighting for “the extermination of Asian influence in European culture.”44 Political and economic considerations overlapped in the Nazi’s plans for the East: Germany’s supplies depended on the agricultural surpluses of the former Soviet territories, but securing provisions for the Reich and the Wehrmacht amidst the turmoil of war meant shortages for the local Eastern populations. The consequences were welcomed: “Many tens of millions of people will become superfluous in this area and will die or will have to migrate to Siberia.”45 Göring’s

242  Raimund Bauer economic guidelines for the occupied Eastern territories fit into this scheme: The production of foodstuffs and oil had to be prioritized, whereas industry could be neglected as long as it was not essential for the former.46 However, while he declared these “necessities of war to be the governing principle” for now, he sketched out Germany’s long-term objectives as well: “In the long run, the newly occupied Eastern territories will be exploited from a colonial point of view and with colonial means.”47 In order to meet the Reich’s and the rest of Europe’s needs, as many foodstuffs and raw materials as possible were to be extracted from the occupied Eastern territories. By keeping prices and wages at a low level, all of Europe would benefit. Cheap labor meant cheap supplies for industry, and the huge profit margins would enable the Reich to pay back its war debts, without having to burden its own population.48 However, even though the Reich assumed ownership of the publicly owned Soviet economy, German businesses were at first not encouraged to expand into the East. Instead, the Kolkhozes were left untouched in order not to impede agricultural output, and state-led monopoly organizations were established as a means to maximize the exploitation of natural resources for the time being. Private companies were merely involved in the form of appointed trustees. These trusteeships did not imply the right of first refusal in the Eastern territories, however.49 This course of action served two purposes: On the one hand, preserving or establishing any kind of industry in the East was – in Göring’s eyes, for instance – counterproductive, since it would disarrange the intended colonial trade relationship in which manufactured goods are exported in exchange for food and raw materials.50 On the other hand, assigning indispensable small businesses as a reward for meritorious soldiers would attract settlers after the war and facilitate German settlement. From the outset of Operation Barbarossa, however, certain voices objected to these imperious German policies, and instead emphasized the need to win over the local population. While Reinhard Heydrich pointed out the potential benefit of anti-Soviet support that targeted propaganda could trigger,51 others hoped abolishing the Kolkhoz would cause the Red Army to disintegrate.52 Furthermore, the völkisch views of Nazi officials like Rosenberg and Theodor Oberländer led them to advocate a more considerate occupation policy. For Rosenberg, for instance, the Ukrainians belonged to the “European family of people” (Völkerfamilie) because Germanic blood flowed through their veins. Accordingly, he deemed it short-sighted to treat them “like Negros and slaves” if one wanted them to be part of a “reorganization of Europe.” After all, antagonizing millions of people could jeopardize the war effort.53 Similarly Generalfeldmarschall von Reichenau stated: “Naturally, one cannot treat an important European country  .  .  . like a colonial object of exploitation on the one hand and at the same time win her as an ally.”54 Eberhard Taubert, responsible for the Abteilung Ost in the Ministry of Propaganda, called for a new policy for different reasons. He was concerned that enemy propaganda across Europe was capitalizing on the ruthlessness of German occupation policy and was depicting it as a means “to eradicate all small nations and to crack the whip over a formless mass of slaves instead.”55 Oberländer, in

When ends become means  243 contrast, stressed the military dimension: Ukrainian agricultural production was critical for the German war effort, and winning over the local population would not only improve next year’s harvest, but would also ensure the security of fragile supply lines. All that was needed was adequate nutrition, decent treatment, and the prospect of abolishing the Kolkhoz.56 Minor concessions would do no lasting harm and promises did not have to be honored, but both would help to win the war and to reduce the spilling of German blood.57 By arguing that the war had to be won before any concept could be realized, these more conciliatory positions not only prioritized short-term considerations but also associated the “New Order” with the war effort.58 Overall, the invasion of the Soviet Union changed the “New Order” discussion. Aside from Germany’s economic considerations regarding central Europe, the Nazis now drew up long-term plans for the prospective Lebensraum in the East. Institutions from various fields discussed the possible forms of German rule, settlement, and exploitation. In the short run, however, the war effort reigned supreme and spurred demands for a more conciliatory occupation policy whenever long-term planning and short-term considerations collided. Thus, Nazi dreams of a colonial supply of foodstuffs, labor, and raw materials were frequently disturbed by calls for a rethinking of the German “New Order” policy.

A “New Europe” waging war After the Wehrmacht’s defeat at Stalingrad in January  1943, the “New Order” discussion took on a different tone. Now when the Nazis spoke of Europe, the term was shorn of most of its original normative connotation. Instead of German domination and colonies in the East, it referred to an existing community, its common culture and shared fate. Against the backdrop of military setbacks, Nazi officials tried to mobilize the occupied countries to their cause by emphasizing the communist threat and, in the case of a potential Soviet victory, Europe’s doom. Accordingly, the war and its necessities became the focal point of most “New Order” concepts. On 30 January 1943 – the tenth anniversary of the Nazis’ seizure of power and a few days before Field Marshal General Paulus surrendered in Stalingrad – Goebbels issued a proclamation on Hitler’s behalf. Hitler saw two alternatives: Either Germany, her allies, and thus Europe would win the war, or Bolshevism would destroy European culture.59 Goebbels explicitly referred to this scenario a few days later and set a new, corresponding agenda in a directive on the treatment of European nations. The conclusions he drew were meant to alter German occupation policy. In order to prevail over the Soviet Union, not only Germany’s, but all of Europe’s, potential had to be used to full capacity. Therefore, all imperious statements, the talk about colonial policy, and all considerations of Germanization had to stop: “One cannot call the people of the East . . . beasts, barbarians etc. and then expect them to show interest in a German victory. . . . Being careful with expressions, in contrast, helps to reduce German bloodshed and to gain the victory.”60 Instead, their love of liberty, their will to fight, their industriousness,

244  Raimund Bauer and German efforts to rebuild what Bolshevism had destroyed, were to be emphasized. Eberhard Taubert put the new approach paradigmatically: Europe’s solidaristic collective defence is a question of the self-preservation instinct of European mankind. All former disputes and controversies have to fade away in the face of this gigantic conflict. These are family squabbles that have to fall silent, when the common house needs to be saved from the blaze.61 The new European stance that Goebbels endorsed was echoed by others in their statements, speeches, and memoranda. In the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, for example, Joachim von Ribbentrop advocated creating a new European Federation. Such a step would allay the widespread fears in the occupied territories, and help to recruit volunteers for military service and work in Germany, without obstructing any prospective “New Order.” He concluded: “It is my rock solid conviction that, if we act tactically, much German blood does not have to be shed.”62 Similarly, diplomat Cécil von Renthe-Fink recommended presenting Germany as the “champion of a new, better order, in which all European people will find a fair and worthy place.”63 By responding to the occupied territories’ yearning for peace, national autonomy, material prosperity, and social justice, he hoped they would be mobilized to aid the German war effort. Renthe-Fink also pointed out that promises would no longer be binding once the war was won.64 Even Hans Frank, a Nazi hardliner, called for a new approach. He did not care if mincemeat was made out of Poles and Ukrainians after the war,65 but he was convinced that Germany’s occupation policy had mistakenly pursued both long-term and short-term objectives without appropriate coordination while failing to keep the factual possibilities in perspective.66 Thus, he emphasized that the measures he suggested – raising food rations, reviving Polish cultural live, and clarifying Poland’s future within Europe – solely served the purpose of “victoriously ending the European struggle for freedom.”67 Naturally, some racist hardliners were less pragmatic and disapproved of any new conciliatory course. Even someone like Hans-Joachim Riecke, one of the most influential men in German agriculture who, in 1942, had tacitly accepted that millions of people would starve to death because the German need for foodstuffs outweighed any concern for local populations,68 had to defend himself against accusations of being too soft and a pacifist. He earned that reputation for endorsing the reform of land holdings and agricultural property in parts of the former Soviet territories. Riecke defended these measures by pointing out that they could easily be reversed after the war, and argued they were still driven by the same guiding principle: getting the most out of the occupied countries. Even if one considered the reforms to be deceitful, one had to acknowledge their success and contribution to the war effort.69 Erich Koch, Reichskommissar in the Ukraine, by contrast, was one of the hardliners who disagreed with the new approach set out by Goebbels and Taubert. The guidelines for the treatment of “Eastern workers,” for instance, made him furious: If he had to treat them courteously now, he

When ends become means  245 assumed that he had to consider himself lucky to still be allowed to deal severely with criminals and communists. In his eyes, the National Socialist Party was still the inner circle (“Führungsorden”) of the German Volk, not an organization for protecting “Eastern workers.”70 Short-term measures designed to bolster the war effort were not just a political issue. In Albert Speer’s Ministry for Armaments and War Production, a committee was created to Europeanize the war economy, the Planungs-Stab Europa. Being convinced that the Reich bore a disproportionate share of the war burden, this committee established how to bring about “the voluntary willingness of the European states (occupied, allied, and neutral) to make sacrifices for the common struggle for existence.”71 On the one hand, the Planungs-Stab demanded a more rigid policy, and a central German institution, to coordinate the European economy. On the other hand, the committee argued non-German interests should be taken into account and German efforts should primarily rely on people who were sympathetic to the German cause.72 Accordingly, Speer sought to increasingly outsource armaments production to increase Europe’s contribution to the German war effort. After all, every worker replacing a German would free a soldier for the Eastern front.73 In the Ministry of Economics, Hans Kehrl took the same stance: In line with the tasks that have been delegated to the planning office, it is necessary to focus to an increasing degree on the entire economic area accessible to us. Where Großraum-planning promises war-economic gains, the planning has to be expanded from the area of the Reich to the German sphere of influence and to the economic areas of our allies and of neutrals. The limits and the sequencing of this expansion are determined by its value for gaining victory. There is no room for planning that is not suited to bringing us closer to victory.74 This approach faced one neuralgic problem, however: Having monopolized European trade for years, the Reich had piled up huge debts on its clearing accounts, thus diminishing other countries’ will to export. In order to maximize Europe’s contribution, Hans Kehrl suggested aligning other countries’ interests with Germany’s by offering minority interests as security.75 Another memorandum even called for an unrestricted transfer of knowledge. German businesses should not worry about potential post-war competitors, but were expected to share inventions, know-how, and licenses in order to increase Europe’s overall armament output.76 Although the war effort was paramount during the last years of the conflict, and preparations for peacetime had been forbidden several times,77 post-war planning did not cease completely. Even after the Red Army had reached the Vistula, Heinrich Himmler fantasized about how to rule and pacify Soviet territory once it was reconquered: A strip of land populated by Cossacks should protect German settlements in the East, and the promotion of Buddhism would help appease the local population.78 Hellmut Körner, head of the Department for Food and Agriculture in the Reichskommissariat Ukraine, also concerned himself with ideas for the

246  Raimund Bauer East. In his eyes, the Ukraine was to be developed into “a valuable member of the new Europe”79 and all political, administrative, and economic measures should be devoted to this purpose. Although he still derived Ukraine’s value from her fertile soil and her natural resources, he admonished that the mistakes of earlier occupation policy – its indecisiveness, its colonial attitude, and the pillaging – should not be repeated after reoccupation.80 In contrast to these “New Order” concepts, others had not completely lost touch with reality. Private businesses in particular tried to prepare for post-war challenges. In August  1944, SS-Sturmbannführer Backhaus, for instance, was indignant when he learned that German companies were trying to establish ties with foreign firms.81 However, what constituted high treason in his eyes seems to have been common practice among German companies: They braced themselves for demobilization and a “New Order” that was not a National Socialist one.82 Generally, the “New Order” discussion from 1943 onward was dominated by the exigencies of war. What had been a minority position a few years earlier now dominated the discussion. Instead of delineating uncompromising ideas for a post-war “New Order” solely tailored to advance German interests, Nazi officials had been brought back to the present by the most fundamental German interest of all: winning the war. Correspondingly, their ideas regarding Europe’s “New Order” not only took into account the needs and wishes of occupied peoples, they also – at least temporarily – sacrificed core National Socialist principles for the sake of military victory.

The war and “New Europe”: a different reading Even though the overview given previously omits certain aspects and details, the discussion drawn from the selected primary sources conveys the central elements of Germany’s “New Order” discussion during World War II, and of the changes it experienced. However, being able to distinguish three different stages to this discourse is hardly original, and neither is the insight that as the military situation became more desperate, the more the war effort shaped National Socialist policies. However, my analysis departs from previous research in its focus on the interdependence between the long-term “New Order” envisaged in Nazi Germany and the immediate necessities of the war. After the defeat of France, concepts for a “New Order” attracted broad attention in Nazi Germany, eliciting broad approval for turning Germany’s sphere of influence into a Großwirtschaftsraum. Economic institutions carried the idea of “Mitteleuropa”83 further, and tried to turn the “New Order” into a single economic entity that many Germans had aspired to create for quite some time. These ideas revolved around Germany’s informal economic dominance in Europe, autarky, the integration of the Southeastern states, and a reasonable division of labor. The long-term planning associated with these efforts were considered at least as relevant and justified as considerations of how to bolster the war economy, but a connection between these two aspects of the war was hardly established until after the invasion of the Soviet Union.

When ends become means  247 When the invasion of the Soviet Union nullified the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact, anti-communism, anti-Semitism, German’s alleged racial superiority, and economic exploitation amalgamated into more radical long-term concepts, and a rigid and ruthless occupation policy in the former Soviet territories was immediately established. It was the hard core of the Nazi Party that transformed and infused the “New Order” with racism and ideas regarding Lebensraum, ideas that indeed were nothing new in German right-wing thinking.84 Yet after these ideas began frustrating German war aims, more pragmatic standpoints, within the Wehrmacht for instance, or völkisch voices like Rosenberg’s, soon called for a rethinking of priorities. Pointing out that the present course of action fueled resistance that impeded the war effort, they were the first to argue the war would be easier to win with a more considerate policy. The longer the war in the East went on, and the more desperate the military outlook became, the more importance this stance gained. Since more conciliatory “New Order” proposals that resembled the idea of the Reich85 could claim to advance the war effort by mobilizing support for Germany, these ideas remained viable despite running contrary to National Socialist convictions at times. In fact, declaring the necessities of war were the only valid guideline did silence those post-war plans that focused solely on advancing German interests, but at the same time reinvigorated long-term concepts that picked up the arguments brought forward in calls for a rethinking of German occupation policy. Aside from invoking the catastrophe that would envelop Europe following a Soviet victory, the prospect of a “New Order” became a pillar of Germany’s attempt to mobilize solidarity for the German war effort. This analysis of Germany’s “New Order” discussion during World War II has a range of additional implications and raises several important questions: Although the war effort gradually became the only legitimate ground for justification, every phase of the discussion was shaped by protagonists who strove to advance their own interests and notions of a “New Order.” Private businesses initially tried to shape the approaching common European market and eagerly prepared for it, but when they were admonished to sacrifice their technological advantages for the sake of the war effort their support became more reluctant.86 The Wehrmacht’s rapid advance in the East spurred racist and colonial phantasies, especially among those who had endorsed the creation of a Großwirtschaftsraum as a step towards a Germanic Empire, but this vision clashed with the more considerate “New Order” rhetoric towards the end of the war.87 However, even these more benign European concepts that are often depicted as mere propaganda88 had strong supporters for whom these concepts were not merely a means to an end. Alfred Rosenberg, for instance, espoused the same völkisch position at the outset of Operation Barbarossa and at the end of the war.89 Instead of assuming that Nazi Germany’s true colors were never really unveiled except for that short moment when victory over the Soviet Union appeared to be within grasp,90 one might ask whether interpreting the “New Order” discussion as an expression of the different ideological pillars that the National Socialist system rested on is more helpful. The vagueness of the “New Order,” the many different hopes that could be pinned on it, and thus

248  Raimund Bauer its inclusiveness, might be more characteristic of the discussion – and the Third Reich in general – than the identification of a single definitive blueprint might be. The shifting meaning that the different concepts witnessed over the course of the “New Order” discussion cannot be explained by the political power of their authors. The emphasis on economic considerations during the first years of the war cannot establish the primacy of economic groups’ interests, as Marxist historians often emphasize,91 nor does it seem plausible that more inclusive concepts ultimately triumphed due to the rising importance of their exponents.92 Considering the number of imperialist plans that were proposed following the invasion of the Soviet Union, it is also unlikely that these positions were simply not expressed anymore, largely because their objectives were bound to be implemented anyway.93 Conversely, the military outlook had a major impact on the scope and the tenor of the discussion, and this factor cannot be explained by Marxists’ emphasis on economic interests or by the changing power dynamics of elites within the Nazi state or its society. While the initial victories gave rise to a one-sided form of European economic cooperation, the invasion of the Soviet Union opened up the possibility of seizing and settling new Lebensraum. After the war turned against Germany, the focus gradually shifted towards ways to bolster the war effort. Referring to the war conclusively explains the most important watersheds within the “New Order” discussion, but doing so falls short of accounting for the whole development: Even though political power did not grant decisive influence on the debate’s content,94 the tactical use of the “New Order” that Goebbels had decreed95 after Stalingrad was a stunning success. The conciliatory rhetoric dominated the “New Order” discussion until the end of the war. In the reading presented here, neither Stalingrad nor Goebbels were responsible for initiating this turnaround; rather it was the intrinsic logic of long-term “New Order” planning being more and more connected to the short-term necessities of the war. Calls for a more considerate course ultimately prevailed because their claims to aid the war effort made them immune to critique. No matter whether one actually wished for an economic, racial, or federal “New Order,” it was impossible to contest the primacy of the war effort. This led actors to either turn away from the argument or support the new course, either for genuine or merely tactical reasons. Thus, the “New Order” discussion finally ended in agreement on the most urgent short-term necessity as the lowest common denominator: winning the war.

Notes 1 Richard Coudenhove-Kalergi, Paneuropa (Vienna and Leipzig: Paneuropa-Verlag, 1926), 7. – All translations in this essay are my own. 2 See Hans Krebs, Paneuropa oder Mitteleuropa? (Munich: Franz Eher Verlag, 1931), 5. 3 See e.g., Carl H. Pegg, Evolution of the European Idea, 1914–1932 (Chapel Hill and London: University of North Carolina Press, 1983). 4 See Paul Kluke, “Nationalsozialistische Europaideologie,” Vierteljahrshefte für Zeitgeschichte 3, no. 3 (1955). 5 See Jörg K. Hoensch, “Nationalsozialistische Europapläne im Zweiten Weltkrieg. Versuch einer Synthese,” in Mitteleuropa-Konzeptionen in der ersten Hälfte des 20. Jahrhunderts, ed. Richard G. Plaschka et al. (Vienna: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie

When ends become means  249 der Wissenschaften, 1995); Karl Heinz Roth, “ ‘Neuordnung’ und wirtschaftliche Nachkriegsplanungen,” in Krieg und Wirtschaft: Studien zur deutschen Wirtschaftsgeschichte 1939–1945, ed. Dietrich Eichholtz (Berlin: Metropol-Verlag, 1999). 6 See e.g., Wilfried Loth, “Rettungsanker Europa? Deutsche Europa-Konzeptionen vom Dritten Reich bis zur Bundesrepublik,” in Ende des Dritten Reiches  – Ende des Zweiten Weltkriegs: Eine perspektivische Rückschau, ed. Hans-Erich Volkmann (Munich: Piper, 1995), 201; Peter Krüger, “Hitlers Europapolitik,” in Der Nationalsozialismus: Studien zur Ideologie und Herrschaft, ed. Wolfgang Benz, Hans Buchheim, and Hans Mommsen (Frankfurt am Main: Fischer Taschenbuch Verlag, 1993), 124. 7 Mark Mazower, Dark Continent: Europe’s Twentieth Century (New York: Vintage, 1998), 150. 8 See Hans-Erich Volkmann, “Zur europäischen Dimension nationalsozialistischer Wirtschaftspolitik,” in Ökonomie und Expansion: Grundzüge der NS-Wirtschaftspolitik, ed. Bernhard Chiari (Munich: Oldenbourg, 2003), 41. 9 See Marcel Boldorf, “Neue Wege zur Erforschung der Wirtschaftsgeschichte Europas unter nationalsozialistischer Hegemonie,” in Europäische Volkswirtschaften unter deutscher Hegemonie 1938–1945, ed. Christoph Buchheim and Marcel Boldorf (Munich: Oldenbourg, 2012), 11. 10 The idea for this chapter arose out of a much broader analysis of primary sources. However, due to length restrictions, this chapter confines itself to conveying the general idea. 11 Kurt Wirth, Der großdeutsche und der mitteleuropäische Traum von 1815 bis 1938 (Würzburg: Triltsch, 1938), 106. 12 See Alan S. Milward, The New Order and the French Economy (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1993), 28. 13 See Jürgen Elvert, Mitteleuropa! Deutsche Pläne zur europäischen Neuordnung (1918–1945) (Stuttgart: Steiner, 1999). 14 See Heinrich Himmler über die deutsche Siedlungspolitik im Osten, August 24, 1940, Federal Archives Berlin (Bundesarchiv Berlin, BArch Berlin), NS 19/3282, fol. 1–8. 15 See e.g., Götz Aly and Susanne Heim, Vordenker der Vernichtung: Ausschwitz und die deutschen Pläne für eine neue europäische Ordnung (Frankfurt am Main: Fi­scher, 2004), 135–146; Mark Mazower, Hitler’s Empire: Nazi Rule in Occupied Europe (London: Penguin Books, 2008), 185. 16 Aktenvermerk über eine Chefbesprechung im Reichswirtschaftsministerium, July 22, 1940. Printed in Gerhart Hass and Wolfgang Schumann, eds., Anatomie der Aggression: Neue Dokumente zu den Kriegszielen des faschistischen deutschen Imperialismus im zweiten Weltkrieg (Berlin: Deutscher Verlag der Wissenschaften, 1972), 67–75. 17 For a detailed analysis of German post-war currency plans, see Marc Buggeln, “Währungspläne für den europäischen Großraum: Die Diskussion der nationalsozialistischen Wirtschaftsexperten über ein zukünftiges europäisches Zahlungssystem,” in Europäische Integration: Deutsche Hegemonialpolitik gegenüber Westeuropa 1920– 1960, ed. Thomas Sandkühler (Göttingen: Wallstein, 2002). 18 See Aufzeichnungen von Carl Clodius, May 30, 1940. Printed in Hass and Schumann, Aggression, 43–48. 19 See Aufzeichnungen von Karl Ritter, June  1, 1940. Printed in Hass and Schumann, Aggression, 49–52. 20 Ausarbeitung der Volkswirtschaftlichen Abteilung der Reichsbank zur Frage der Neuordnung der deutschen Währung nach dem Kriege unter besonderer Berücksichtigung des Goldproblems, July 4, 1940, BArch Berlin, R 2501/7015, fol. 224–234. 21 See Aktenvermerk über eine Chefbesprechung im Reichswirtschaftsministerium, July 22, 1940. Printed in Hass and Schumann, Aggression, 67–75. 22 See Aktennotiz zu Fragen der wirtschaftlichen Neugestaltung Europas, July 15, 1940, BArch Berlin, R 2501/7017, fol. 106–112.

250  Raimund Bauer 23 See Rede von Ministerialdirigent Gustav Schlotterer auf der Sitzung des Großen Beirats der Reichsgruppe Industrie, October 3, 1940, The Carl Zeiss Archives, Jena (Carl Zeiss Archiv), 3737, fol. 2992–3021 and fol. 3003. 24 Schreiben von Walther Funk an Hermann Göring und Antwort Göring, August 6, and August 17, 1940. Printed in Hass and Schumann, Aggression, 80. 25 See ibid. 26 See Aktennotiz zu den Ausführungen von Dr. Schlotterer, July 29, 1940, BArch Berlin, R 2501/7017, fol. 113–114. 27 Rede von Ministerialdirigent Gustav Schlotterer auf der Sitzung des Großen Beirats der Reichsgruppe Industrie, October  3, 1940, The Carl Zeiss Archives, 3737, fol. 2992–3021. 28 See e.g., John Gillingham, “Zur Vorgeschichte der Montan-Union: Westeuropas Kohle und Stahl in Depression und Krieg,” Vierteljahrshefte für Zeitgeschichte 34, no. 3 (1986). 29 See e.g., Bericht der Reichsgruppe Industrie über eine Reise in die Niederlande, July 12, 1940. Printed in Hass and Schumann, Aggression, 54–57. 30 See e.g., Schreiben des Direktoriums der Friedrich Krupp AG an die Abteilung Bergbau des Reichswirtschaftsministeriums, March 29, 1940. Printed in Wolfgang Schumann and Ludwig Nestler, eds., Europa unterm Hakenkreuz: Die Okkupationspolitik des deutschen Faschismus (1938–1945), [vol. 3:] Die faschistische Okkupationspolitik in Belgien, Luxemburg und den Niederlanden (1940–1945) (Berlin: Deutscher Verlag der Wissenschaften, 1990), 96–97. 31 See e.g., Aus dem Memorandum von Karl Albrecht, Geschäftsführer der Wirtschaftsgruppe Feinmechanik und Optik, für Paul Henrichs, Geschäftsleiter von Carl Zeiss Jena und Leiter der Wirtschaftsgruppe, July 1940. Printed in Dietrich Eichholtz and Wolfgang Schumann, eds., Anatomie des Krieges: Neue Dokumente über die Rolle des deutschen Monopolkapitals bei der Vorbereitung und Durchführung des zweiten Weltkrieges (Berlin: Deutscher Verlag der Wissenschaften, 1969). 32 See e.g., Aus dem Schreiben des Vorstandsvorsitzenden der Vereinigten Aluminiumwerke AG, Ludger Westrick, an den Unterstaatssekretär im Wirtschaftsministerium, Generalleutnant Hermann v. Hanneken, September  4, 1940. Printed in Manfred Menger, Fritz Petrick, and Wolfgang Wilhelmus., eds., Expansionsrichtung Nord­ europa: Dokumente zur Nordeuropapolitik des faschistischen deutschen Imperialismus 1939 bis 1945 (Berlin: Deutscher Verlag der Wissenschaften, 1987), 84. 33 See e.g., n. 22, 23. 34 See Vortrag von Hans Kehrl anlässlich der Beiratssitzung der Industrie- und Handels­ kammer für die Niederlausitz, September 9, 1940, BArch Berlin, R 11/107, fol. 1–17. 35 Göring stressed this aspect in a frequently cited circular a few days later. See Rundschreiben Hermann Görings wegen der planmässigen Ausnutzung der Wirtschaft der besetzten westlichen Gebiete für die deutsche Kriegswirtschaft, August  26, 1940, Fede­ral Archives, Department Military Archives Freiburg (Bundesarchiv, Abteilung Mili­tärarchiv Freiburg, BArch Abt. MA Freiburg), RW 19/619, fol. 200. 36 See e.g., Schreiben Hermann Görings an Walther Funk betreffend die Kontinental- und Großraumwirtschaft, August 17, 1940, BArch Berlin, R 2501/1017, fol. 210. 37 Auszug aus der Ansprache von Geheimrat Fellinger in der Sitzung des AussenhandelsAusschusses, November 8, 1941, BArch Berlin, 5628/448261, unfol. 38 See ibid. 39 See Schreiben an Hermann Göring bezüglich der Kapitalverflechtung mit Holland und Belgien, March 12, 1942, BArch Berlin, R 3101/33.158, fol. 9. 40 See Aktenvermerk Martin Bormanns über eine Besprechung bei Adolf Hitler, July 16, 1941. Printed in Wolfgang Schumann and Ludwig Nestler, eds., Europa unterm Ha­kenkreuz: Die Okkupationspolitik des deutschen Faschismus (1938–1945), [vol. 5:] Die faschistische Okkupationspolitik in den zeitweilig besetzten Gebieten der Sowjet­ union (1941–1944) (Berlin: Deutscher Verlag der Wissenschaften, 1991), 160–164.

When ends become means  251 41 See e.g., Rosenbergs Instruktionen für einen Reichskommissar im Ostland, May  8, 1941. Printed in ibid., 128–131. 42 See Erwägungen des Arbeitswissenschaftlichen Instituts der Deutschen Arbeitsfront zur Nutzung der eroberten Gebiete durch das deutsche Volk, December 1941, BArch Berlin, R 6/602, fol. 11–20. 43 See Aktenvermerk Martin Bormanns über eine Besprechung bei Adolf Hitler, July 16, 1941. Printed in Schumann and Nestler, Europa unterm Hakenkreuz: Sowjetunion, 160–164. 44 See Befehl von Walter von Reichenau, October 10, 1941. Printed in ibid., 203–204. 45 Aus den Richtlinien zur Wirtschaftspolitik in den zu erobernden Gebieten der UdSSR, May 23, 1941. Printed in ibid., 135–143. 46 See Aus den geheimen Richtlinien von Hermann Göring (“Grüne Mappe”), June 1941. Printed in Eichholtz and Schumann, Anatomie des Krieges, 333–335. 47 Hermann Göring über die Grundsätze der Wirtschaftspolitik in den besetzten Ostgebie­ ten, November 18, 1941, BArch Berlin, R 58/225, unfol. 48 See ibid. 49 See Niederschrift über eine Besprechung im Reichswirtschaftsministerium über grundsätzliche Fragen des Einsatzes der Ostgesellschaften, November 21, 1941, BArch Abt. MA Freiburg, RW 31/6, unfol. 50 See Hermann Göring über die Grundsätze der Wirtschaftspolitik in den besetzten Ostgebieten, November 18, 1941, BArch Berlin, R 58/225, unfol. 51 See Ereignismeldung UdSSR, July 26, 1941. Printed in Schumann and Nestler, Okkupationspolitik Sowjetunion, 172–173. 52 Otto Bräutigam: Die landwirtschaftlichen Kollektive in der Sowjetunion, August  6, 1941, BArch Berlin, R 6/87, fol. 14–17. 53 See Alfred Rosenberg: Zur Behandlung der Ukrainer, November 22, 1941, BArch Berlin, R 6/69, fol. 126–128. 54 Walter von Reichenau: Denkschrift des Generalfeldmarschalls von Reichenau zur Ukrainefrage, January 26, 1942, BArch Abt. MA Freiburg, RW 31/203, unfol. 55 Eberhard Taubert über die Auswirkungen der Ostpolitik auf die Stimmung in Europa, June 12, 1942, BArch Berlin, R 55/567, fol. 33. 56 See Theodor Oberländer: Voraussetzungen für die Sicherheit des Nachschubs und die Gewinnung höchster Ernährungsüberschüsse in der Ukraine, October  28, 1941. Printed in idem, Der Osten und die deutsche Wehrmacht: Sechs Denkschriften aus den Jahren 1941–1943 gegen die NS-Kolonialthese, ed. Zeitgeschichtliche Forschung­s­ stelle Ingolstadt (Asendorf: MUT, 1987), 51–63. This publication’s interpretations of the compiled sources exhibit highly revisionist tendencies. However, neither this revisionist, nor the Marxist bias that can be found in editions of sources published in the GDR diminish the value of the primary sources. 57 See Oberländer, Theodor: Die besetzten Gebiete Osteuropas und der weitere Verlauf des Krieges, November 9, 1942. Printed in ibid., 86–101. 58 See Alfred Rosenbergs Richtlinien für die Wirtschaftsführung in den besetzten Ostgebieten, April  1942. Printed in Schumann and Nestler, Okkupationspolitik Sowjet­ union, 280–281. 59 Proklamation Hitlers, January 30, 1943. Printed in Hitler: Reden und Proklamationen 1932–1945  – Kommentiert von einem deutschen Zeitgenossen, vol. II: Untergang (1939–1945), ed. Max Domarus (Munich: Süddeutscher Verlag, 1965), 1976–1980. 60 Aus der Anweisung von Joseph Goebbels an die Reichsleiter, Gauleiter und Gaupropagandaleiter. February 15, 1943. Printed in Hass and Schumann, Aggression, 179–182. 61 Dr. Taubert an Reichsminister Goebbels über eine antibolschewistische Propagandaaktion in Europa, November 15, 1943, BArch Berlin, R 55/1290, fol. 105–107. 62 Aufzeichnung von Reichsaußenminister von Ribbentrop über einen europäischen Staatenbund, March 21, 1943. Printed in Hans Werner Neulen, ed., Europa und das 3. Reich: Einigungsbestrebungen im deutschen Machtbereich 1939–45 (Munich: Universitas, 1987), 106–110.

252  Raimund Bauer 63 Notiz des Gesandten Cecil von Renthe-Fink, September 9, 1943. Printed in Hass and Schumann, Aggression, 198–203. 64 Ibid. 65 See Ansprache Hans Franks vor den politischen Leitern der NSDAP im Distrikt Krakau, January 14, 1944. Printed in Wolfgang Schumann and Ludwig Nestler, eds., Nacht über Europa: Die Okkupationspolitik des deutschen Faschismus (1938–1945), [vol. 2:] Die faschistische Okkupationspolitik in Polen (1939–1945) (Cologne: PahlRugenstein, 1989), 292. 66 See Denkschrift Hans Franks für Adolf Hitler, June 19, 1943. Printed in Schumann and Nestler, Okkupationspolitik in Polen, 274. 67 Ibid., 274. 68 See Schreiben Hans-Joachim Rieckes an die Hauptabteilung Ernährung und Landwirtschaft beim Reichskommissar für die Ukraine, April 22, 1942. Printed in Schumann and Nestler, Okkupationspolitik Sowjetunion, 272–273. 69 See Schreiben von Hans-Joachim Riecke, Ministerialdirektor im Reichsernährungs­ ministerium an Gerhard Klopfer, Staatssekretär in der Reichskanzlei, July 19, 1943, BArch Berlin, NS 19/3863, fol. 6–10. 70 See Schreiben des Gauleiters Erich Koch an Martin Bormann über die Richtlinien zum Einsatz der Ostarbeiter, September 23, 1944. BArch Berlin, R 55/21347, fol. 1–5. 71 Denkschrift des Planungs-Stabs Europa zur Europäischen Wirtschafts-Planung, September 13, 1943, BArch Berlin, R 3/1941, fol. 181–187. 72 Ibid. 73 See Aus einer Aufzeichnung für Joachim von Ribbentrop, September 22, 1943. Printed in Wolfgang Schumann and Ludwig Nestler, eds., Europa unterm Hakenkreuz: Die Okkupationspolitik des deutschen Faschismus (1938–1945), [vol. 4:] Die faschistische Okkupationspolitik in Frankreich (1940–1944) (Berlin: Deutscher Verlag der Wissenschaften, 1990), 283–284. 74 Schreiben Kehrls an die Reichsbeauftragten der Reichsstellen VII bis XVI, XVIII bis XXIX zur Großraum-Planung, December 6, 1943. BArch Berlin, R 3/1975, fol. 2–6. 75 See Hans Kehrls Manuskript für das Europakränzchen, December  16, 1943, BArch Berlin, R 3/1940, fol. 173–177. 76 See Vorschlag zur Mobilisierung der europäischen Wirtschaftsreserven, September 19, 1943, BArch Berlin, R 3/1941, fol. 188–193. 77 See e.g., Ludolf Herbst, Der totale Krieg und die Ordnung der Wirtschaft (Stuttgart: Deutsche Verlags-Anstalt, 1982), 179. 78 Schreiben Heinrich Himmlers an Ernst Kaltenbrunner, July 21, 1944, BArch Berlin, NS 19/3947, fol. 178–181. 79 Denkschrift des Landesbauernführers Körner über die neue deutsche Ukraine-Politik, April  20, 1944. Printed in Schumann and Nestler, Okkupationspolitik Sowjetunion, 549–555. 80 Ibid. 81 See Aus dem Schreiben von SS-Sturmbannführer Backhaus an SS-Standartenführer Rudolf Brandt, August 26, 1944. Printed in Eichholtz and Schumann, Anatomie des Krieges, 459–460. 82 See e.g., Aus dem Bulletin des USA-Außenministeriums über Nachkriegspläne der deutschen Imperialisten, March 30, 1945. Printed in ibid., 490–491; Herbst, Der totale Krieg, 402–409. 83 See Hans-Erich Volkmann, “Zum Verhältnis von Großwirtschaft und NS-Regime im zweiten Weltkrieg,” in Zweiter Weltkrieg und sozialer Wandel: Achsenmächte und besetzte Länder, ed. Wacław Długoborski (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck  & Ruprecht, 1981), 109–110. 84 See e.g., Walther Vogel, Das neue Europa und seine historisch-geographischen Grundlagen (Bonn, Leipzig: Kurt Schröder, 1921), 135–164.

When ends become means  253 85 For an interpretation arguing that the idea of the Reich resembles the late National Socialist “New Order” rhetoric, see Armin Mohler, Die konservative Revolution in Deutschland 1918–1932: Ein Handbuch (Darmstadt: WBG, 1972), 139–140. 86 See e.g., Notiz Küppenbenders über den Besuch bei den Optischen Präzisionswerken Warschau, June 4, 1943, The Carl Zeiss Archives, 22721, unfol. 87 See e.g., n. 70. 88 See Loth, “Rettungsanker Europa?” 89 Just like in 1941, in 1944 Rosenberg advocated an autonomous Ukraine and pointed out that from a “völkisch” point of view Ukraine was definitely a part of Europe. See e.g., n. 41 and Richtlinien für die Behandlung der ukrainischen Frage in Presse und Propaganda, April 1944. Printed in Schumann and Nestler, Okkupationspolitik Sowjet­ union, 556–558. 90 Milward, The New Order, 269. 91 For a very bold example of this interpretation, see Wolfgang Schumann, “Die Beteiligung des Zeiss-Konzerns an der Vorbereitung und Durchführung des zweiten Weltkrieges” (Habil. diss. Friedrich-Schiller-Universität Jena, 1961). 92 According to Mark Mazower, “the new East Ministry itself became something of a joke.” Mazower, Hitler’s Empire, 151. 93 Elvert, Mitteleuropa!, 372. 94 The argumentation outlined previously suggests this conclusion. Furthermore, Hitler issued several orders to stop all post-war planning that have been ignored. See Herbst, Der totale Krieg, 179, 389. 95 See n. 60.

Bibliography Archives BArch Abt. MA Freiburg: Federal Archives, Department Military Archives Freiburg (Bundesarchiv, Abteilung Militärarchiv Freiburg), Freiburg. BArch Berlin: Federal Archives Berlin (Bundesarchiv Berlin), Berlin. The Carl Zeiss Archives (Carl Zeiss Archiv), Jena.

Books and articles Aly, Götz, and Susanne Heim. Vordenker der Vernichtung: Ausschwitz und die deutschen Pläne für eine neue europäische Ordnung. Frankfurt am Main: Fischer, 2004. Boldorf, Marcel. “Neue Wege zur Erforschung der Wirtschaftsgeschichte Europas unter nationalsozialistischer Hegemonie.” In Europäische Volkswirtschaften unter deutscher Hegemonie 1938–1945, edited by Christoph Buchheim and Marcel Boldorf, 1–23. Munich: Oldenbourg, 2012. Buggeln, Marc. “Währungspläne für den europäischen Großraum: Die Diskussion der nationalsozialistischen Wirtschaftsexperten über ein zukünftiges europäisches Zah­ lungssystem.” In Europäische Integration: Deutsche Hegemonialpolitik gegenüber Westeuropa 1920–1960, edited by Thomas Sandkühler, 41–76. Göttingen: Wallstein, 2002. Coudenhove-Kalergi, Richard. Paneuropa. Vienna and Leipzig: Paneuropa-Verlag, 1926. Eichholtz, Dietrich, and Wolfgang Schumann, eds. Anatomie des Krieges: Neue Dokumente über die Rolle des deutschen Monopolkapitals bei der Vorbereitung und Durchführung des zweiten Weltkrieges. Berlin: Deutscher Verlag der Wissenschaften, 1969.

254  Raimund Bauer Elvert, Jürgen. Mitteleuropa! Deutsche Pläne zur europäischen Neuordnung (1918–1945). Stuttgart: Steiner, 1999. Gillingham, John. “Zur Vorgeschichte der Montan-Union: Westeuropas Kohle und Stahl in Depression und Krieg.” Vierteljahrshefte für Zeitgeschichte 34, no. 3 (1986): 393–394. Hass, Gerhart, and Wolfgang Schumann, eds. Anatomie der Aggression: Neue Dokumente zu den Kriegszielen des faschistischen deutschen Imperialismus im zweiten Weltkrieg. Berlin: Deutscher Verlag der Wissenschaften, 1972. Herbst, Ludolf. Der totale Krieg und die Ordnung der Wirtschaft. Stuttgart: Deutsche Verlags-Anstalt, 1982. Hitler: Reden und Proklamationen 1932–1945, vol. II: Untergang (1939–1945), edited by Max Domarus. Munich: Süddeutscher Verlag, 1965. Hoensch, Jörg K. “Nationalsozialistische Europapläne im Zweiten Weltkrieg: Versuch einer Synthese.” In Mitteleuropa-Konzeptionen in der ersten Hälfte des 20. Jahrhunderts, edited by Richard G. Plaschka et  al., 307–325. Vienna: Verlag der Österreichi­ schen Akademie der Wissenschaften, 1995. Kluke, Paul. “Nationalsozialistische Europaideologie.” Vierteljahrshefte für Zeitgeschichte 3, no. 3 (1955): 240–275. Krebs, Hans. Paneuropa oder Mitteleuropa? Munich: Franz Eher Verlag, 1931. Krüger, Peter. “Hitlers Europapolitik.” In Der Nationalsozialismus: Studien zur Ideologie und Herrschaft, edited by Wolfgang Benz, Hans Buchheim, and Hans Mommsen, 104–132. Frankfurt am Main: Fischer Taschenbuch Verlag, 1993. Loth, Wilfried. “Rettungsanker Europa? Deutsche Europa-Konzeptionen vom Dritten Reich bis zur Bundesrepublik.” In Ende des Dritten Reiches – Ende des Zweiten Weltkriegs: Eine perspektivische Rückschau, edited by Hans-Erich Volkmann, 201–222. Munich: Piper, 1995. Mazower, Mark. Dark Continent: Europe’s twentieth century. New York: Vintage, 1998. ———. Hitler’s Empire: Nazi Rule in Occupied Europe. London: Penguin Books, 2008. Menger, Manfred, Fritz Petrick, and Wolfgang Wilhelmus, eds. Expansionsrichtung Nord­ europa: Dokumente zur Nordeuropapolitik des faschistischen deutschen Imperialismus 1939 bis 1945. Berlin: Deutscher Verlag der Wissenschaften, 1987. Milward, Alan S. The New Order and the French Economy. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1993. Mohler, Armin. Die konservative Revolution in Deutschland 1918–1932: Ein Handbuch. Darmstadt: WBG, 1972. Neulen, Hans Werner, ed. Europa und das 3. Reich: Einigungsbestrebungen im deutschen Machtbereich 1939–45. Munich: Universitas, 1987. Oberländer, Theodor. Der Osten und die deutsche Wehrmacht: Sechs Denkschriften aus den Jahren 1941–1943 gegen die NS-Kolonialthese, edited by Zeitgeschichtliche Forschungsstelle Ingolstadt. Asendorf: MUT, 1987. Pegg, Carl H. Evolution of the European Idea, 1914–1932. Chapel Hill and London: University of North Carolina Press, 1983. Roth, Karl Heinz. “ ‘Neuordnung’ und wirtschaftliche Nachkriegsplanungen.” In Krieg und Wirtschaft: Studien zur deutschen Wirtschaftsgeschichte 1939–1945, edited by Dietrich Eichholtz, 195–219. Berlin: Metropol Verlag, 1999. Schumann, Wolfgang, and Ludwig Nestler, eds. Europa unterm Hakenkreuz: Die Okkupationspolitik des deutschen Faschismus (1938–1945), [vol. 3:] Die faschistische Okkupationspolitik in Belgien, Luxemburg und den Niederlanden (1940–1945). Berlin: Deutscher Verlag der Wissenschaften, 1990.

When ends become means  255 ———, eds. Europa unterm Hakenkreuz: Die Okkupationspolitik des deutschen Faschismus (1938–1945), [vol. 4:] Die faschistische Okkupationspolitik in Frankreich (1940– 1944). Berlin: Deutscher Verlag der Wissenschaften, 1990. ———, eds. Europa unterm Hakenkreuz: Die Okkupationspolitik des deutschen Faschismus (1938–1945), [vol. 5:] Die faschistische Okkupationspolitik in den zeitweilig besetzten Gebieten der Sowjetunion (1941–1944). Berlin: Deutscher Verlag der Wissenschaften, 1991. ———, eds. Nacht über Europa: Die Okkupationspolitik des deutschen Faschismus (1938–1945), [vol. 2:] Die faschistische Okkupationspolitik in Polen (1939–1945). Cologne: Pahl-Rugenstein, 1989. Schumann, Wolfgang. “Die Beteiligung des Zeiss-Konzerns an der Vorbereitung und Durchführung des zweiten Weltkrieges.” Habil. diss., Friedrich-Schiller-Universität Jena, 1961. Vogel, Walther. Das neue Europa und seine historisch-geographischen Grundlagen. Bonn, Leipzig: Kurt Schröder, 1921. Volkmann, Hans-Erich. “Zum Verhältnis von Großwirtschaft und NS-Regime im zweiten Weltkrieg.” In Zweiter Weltkrieg und sozialer Wandel: Achsenmächte und besetzte Länder, edited by Wacław Długoborski, 87–117. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1981. ———. “Zur europäischen Dimension nationalsozialistischer Wirtschaftspolitik.” In Ökonomie und Expansion: Grundzüge der NS-Wirtschaftspolitik, edited by Bernhard Chiari, 19–44. Munich: Oldenbourg, 2003. Wirth, Kurt. Der großdeutsche und der mitteleuropäische Traum von 1815 bis 1938. Würz­ burg: Triltsch, 1938.

Part IV

Raumordnung and racism

14 “The Anti-Semite Internationale” The exporting of anti-Jewish scholarship and propaganda by the Third Reich Dirk Rupnow The anti-Jewish policy of the National Socialists was accompanied by the rise of an academic discipline that aimed to address the so-called Jewish Question: namely, Erforschung der Judenfrage (“Research into the Jewish Question”), or Judenforschung for short.1 The leading scholars of this new discipline, which sought to transcend the borders of traditional fields of research, established and consolidated their influence through a series of institutes, publications, and regularly held events. While related disciplines such as Ostforschung (“Research into the East,” or “Eastern Studies”) and Volksgeschichte (“Folk History”) clearly involved anti-Semitic components, they were not solely dedicated to Judaism or the so-called Jewish question. In Judenforschung, however, anti-Semitism was a core principle that informed both the motivation for research and its particular areas of focus. To be sure, Jewish populations were regarded as a negative element that had to be eliminated in both Eastern Studies and Folk History. However, this obscures the fact that throughout the Third Reich, themes of Jewish history were actually considered respectable subjects of research in and of themselves. This is often overlooked in traditional German historiography after the Second World War.2 Nazi anti-Jewish scholarship was never identical to racial biology or anthropology, especially since the latter did not concern itself exclusively with the “Jewish race.” Rather, the broad field of anti-Jewish scholarship was mainly populated by historians, theologians, Germanists, orientalists, classical philologists, jurists, and sociologists who, often in collaboration, addressed questions of political, cultural, intellectual, and social history, as well as the histories of religion, literature, and law. Only on occasion did interdisciplinary collaboration with natural scientists take place. Collaboration with scholars at an international level posed a considerable problem for anti-Semitic scholars and scientists. Such activities were necessary in principle, yet represented a real challenge in practice. Indeed, recognizing the relativism of historical knowledge did not compel anti-Jewish scholars to adopt a model of tolerance and plurality; on the contrary, this recognition drove them to adhere all the more strictly to an exclusive and singular ideology and to ally themselves with their own people, along nationalist lines. They made no attempt to conceal this alliance; on the contrary, this crucially informed their scholarly identity.3 These

260  Dirk Rupnow tendencies were opposed to an understanding of scholarship as a common international undertaking. They also obstructed international cooperation, despite the clear need for research that transcended national borders: Indeed, if one were to assert that all Jews were networked and acting on an international level, as the antiSemites believed from the beginning, then it would be folly to think a solution to the so-called Jewish question could be accomplished by one nation alone. Early attempts at establishing an internationalist tendency within anti-Semitic discourse were made at the Anti-Semitic Congresses of the nineteenth century, the first of which was held in Dresden in 1882 and a second in Chemnitz in 1883. Ultimately, these congresses, which aimed to create an “Alliance Antijuive Universelle” in response to the “Alliance Israélite Universelle,” were almost exclusively attended by German speakers and Hungarians. Several decades later, in 1933, the WWI veteran Ulrich Fleischhauer founded the international antiSemitic news agency Welt-Dienst: Internationale Korrespondenz zur Aufklärung der Judenfrage. The articles, which were initially published in German, English, and French, sought to “clarify the Jewish question.” In 1938, the agency was incorporated into Alfred Rosenberg’s encompassing sphere of influence and publication was expanded into twenty languages, with subscriptions numbering 350,000 by the end of the war. The inauguration of the Frankfurt Institut zur Erforschung der Judenfrage in March 1941 was a key event in the coordinated attempt to establish an international framework for anti-Jewish research. Its mission was very much in contrast with the predominantly national focus articulated at the inauguration of the Forschungsabteilung Judenfrage des Reichsinstituts für Geschichte des neuen Deutschlands (Reich Institute for the History of the New Germany, Jewish Question Research Division) in Munich in 1936: Speaking before an audience of foreign delegates who had been sent to report on the development of anti-Jewish policies in their respective countries (namely, the Netherlands, Norway, Hungary, Romania, Bulgaria, Denmark), Rosenberg called for a “European solution.” It is no coincidence that the journalistic organ of the newly established institute was called Der Weltkampf, or The World-Struggle: Monthly for Global Politics, Racial Culture, and the Jewish Question in All Countries. The ongoing war required the anti-Jewish institutions to relocate, taking with them the voluminous libraries they had looted from all corners of occupied Europe. Parts of the Munich library were sent to Passau at the end of 1943, while particularly precious volumes were given to the Bavarian National Library; the Frankfurt Institute was displaced to Hungen in Upper Hesse, southeast of Gießen; the Institut für Deutsche Ostarbeit (Institute for German Work in the East) was moved from Krakow in autumn 1944 to two different locations in Lower Bavaria (the Castles Zandt and Miltach). Rosenberg even went so far as to prohibit the publication of any further reports about the Frankfurt Institute, in order to avoid provoking Allied air raids.4 It had become apparent that dire consequences could follow from an attempt to bolster the city’s image by making it a locus of antiJewish research.

“The Anti-Semite Internationale”  261 To some extent, Germany’s occupation policy and its alliances with other European states tended to “Europeanize” anti-Jewish research. Under Germany’s leadership, a Europe-wide network of anti-Semitic institutions came into being during the final years of the war, after the defeat in Stalingrad, as the regime was facing imminent collapse. Nazi rhetoric concerning the alleged threats of Bolshevism and plutocracy accelerated this institutional networking.5 At the same time, under the pressure of the war, attempts were made to bundle the anti-Jewish research efforts of the various institutions within Germany and to coordinate their activities.6 In face of its own disintegrating sphere of power, the Nazi regime tried once more to mobilize anti-Semitism as a rallying cry and unifying force.7 After the German army suffered devastating defeats in the Soviet Union and Africa in 1943, German war propaganda – partly at Hitler’s behest – was consolidated and oriented in a uniformly anti-Jewish and anti-Bolshevik direction.8 As early as 1943, the Propaganda Ministry intended to set up an “anti-Jewish working group” at Philippsthal Castle, in close cooperation with Rosenberg’s office. The group was to be granted access to the Welt-Dienst archive and the holdings of the Institut zur Erforschung der Judenfrage for propaganda purposes. To avoid potential understaffing, primarily foreigners were to be employed at the castle.9 Rosenberg’s office was not averse to this proposition, though it strove to keep some distance between itself and explicit propaganda activities: Since the Hohe Schule [the planned, fully Nazified university system] should not intervene in everyday politics, it would be inappropriate to connect it with propaganda on an organizational level. But this does not mean that the work of the external institutes of the Hohe Schule, in particular the one in Frankfurt, cannot contribute to the goals that are pursued in Philippsthal.10 Ultimately, the plan to establish a working group at Philippsthal was abandoned in May 1943, probably for financial reasons.11 At the same time, however, Goebbels began a new anti-Jewish propaganda campaign, with a secret mandate to reinforce the anti-Semitic education of the population. To neglect the “Jewish question” would be “wrong and dangerous,” as he put it; on the contrary, it should remain the “core of our intellectual argument.” It was no longer appropriate to discuss the war without explicitly evoking the “Jewish question” and the Jewish guilt for the war, in spite of the fact that Germany was by now practically “free of Jews.”12 In 1941, in a speech given at the inauguration of the Frankfurt Institute, Wilhelm Grau pointed out that, from a National Socialist point of view, a local European solution to the “Jewish question” was insufficient: The struggle regarding the Jewish question and its uniform solution thus will continue even after the pacification of Europe, because the Jewish power beyond the Atlantic Ocean will not be inclined to submit to the striving for a new order on the old continent. But Europe will solve its Jewish question still within this century.13

262  Dirk Rupnow Since a global solution to the “Jewish question” appeared impossible for the time being from the Nazi point of view, propaganda continued to play an essential role: The Jewish question will remain a central intellectual and political problem for our generation, and the whole world will struggle to resolve it. Jewry itself has moved its intellectual and scientific spheres of power to the American continent, and it will continue to fight against the new European solution to the Jewish question and against the changed attitude towards the Jews by all intellectual and ideological means. Moreover, it will also fight in other fields of combat; it will favor science and scholarship in particular, because it wrongly believes itself to be especially fit and respected in these domains. But Germany, which has already destroyed the Jew politically, is well determined to attack and defeat him intellectually, wherever he appears.14 Propaganda profited from the same material sources and archives as did scholarly research. Though anti-Jewish research wanted to keep its distance from propaganda, this research likely would have constituted a rich reservoir for additional propaganda initiatives. The line between the two is anything but clear. At the beginning of 1944, with Hitler’s permission and with the cooperation of the Propaganda Ministry, the Foreign Office (Franz Alfred Six), and the Reich Security Main Office (RSHA, Paul Dittel), Rosenberg tried to convene a largescale international congress in Krakow on Jewry in World Politics in our Days. Rosenberg meant to exploit the congress for propaganda aims during the final phase of the war.15 It was conceived as the first pan-European anti-Jewish demonstration in history and Rosenberg hoped it would generate moral and political support for Germany.16 Invitations to the congress would come from scholarly institutions such as the Frankfurt Institut zur Erforschung der Judenfrage, and the scholarly part of the program was designed to offer “some decisive political lectures.”17 The draft of the final resolution read as follows: Representatives from almost every European nation convened at a congress to discuss the global Jewish peril, from July 11 to 15, 1944. . . . After thorough examination of the historical development of world politics and the forces active in it today, they unanimously came to the following conclusions: For all peoples, Jewry constitutes a totally alien and parasitical element in the course of the historical development of humanity. This fact appears like a common thread in the history of all nations and can be traced from the first appearance of Jewry to the present day. Movements of resistance against the actions of Jewry appear repeatedly in almost every national history. Because these developments did not occur simultaneously in every nation, Jewry succeeded again and again in resettling in another country, only to later return to those countries that had expelled them, as soon as all memory of them having been there had been lost. . . . This is why we are unanimously convinced that the Jewish question cannot be solved until the last Jew disappears from the

“The Anti-Semite Internationale”  263 European continent and only once the impacts of Jewish activities will have been eliminated on a spiritual and cultural level as well.18 The event, initially scheduled to be held in Prague in July 1944, ultimately did not come to pass; by then, Soviet troops had already advanced to the Vistula. Not only had working committees, film screenings, theater productions, concerts, guided tours, and events for more than 200 participants been planned, but prominent antiSemites from Germany and abroad had already been invited, including Rosenberg, Goebbels, and Ribbentrop. The poorly made preparations for the congress primarily reflect the rapidly diminishing scope of action of anti-Jewish research and of the regime itself; there were, for instance, difficulties with foreign currencies, a lack of transportation and accommodation, and fear of air raids and partisan attacks.19 At this time, Rosenberg’s office also reflected on “the need for greater support from German authorities and agencies in the struggle against Jewry.” The competition for influence and responsibility among those on the German side was deplored as the “German disease of particularism,” especially when compared with a supposedly unified Jewish front in the form of the Soviet Union, United States, and Great Britain, which likewise demanded a “concentration of all German forces.”20 Even the Sicherheitsdienst (SD), the Security Service of the SS, considered the existence of parallel structures in relevant institutions a “German mistake” that should not be repeated abroad.21 It was above all the anti-Jewish news agency Welt-Dienst in Frankfurt, the management of which had been taken over by Rosenberg’s office in order to mask its connection with a propaganda newspaper, that was supposed to serve as a propaganda tool in friendly and neutral countries abroad.22 Supported by the Propaganda Ministry as well as the German Foreign Office and the Party itself, it appeared twice monthly towards the end of the war, with a distribution of over 350,000 copies made available in twenty languages; its primary function was to contribute to the “anti-Jewish education” of foreign workers, prisoners of war, and Legion members.23 As early as 1941, Rosenberg had offered to take over not only the Welt-Dienst and the scholarly journal Weltkampf but also Der Stürmer, the weekly anti-Semitic Nazi tabloid published by Julius Streicher; Rosenberg intended to turn it into a “popular weekly” in order to prevent the “Jewish question” fading from popular consciousness.24 In the Taunus village of Eppenheim, a small hotel called Bergfrieden was specifically set up as a “guest house for enemies of the Jews.” In April/May 1944, a first conference with “French friends” was held there, featuring lectures like The Jews as Masterminds of the Current War (Schwarzburg) and Fifteen Centuries of French Anti-Jewish Tradition (Labroue). At the end of May, another conference was organized with French anti-Semites, this one on The Jewish Power over Europe. At this gathering, Klaus Schickert, historian and head of Rosenberg’s Frankfurt Institut zur Erforschung der Judenfrage, addressed the Jewish question from a scholarly perspective. In June, participants from Hungary came to hear about The Penetration of the European Habitat by the Jews, Judaism and Bolshevism, and The Judaization of the English Upper Class.25

264  Dirk Rupnow In a conversation with Schickert, the Munich historian Karl Alexander von Müller also argued for a “radical organizational solution” in early 1944: all remaining residue of the Munich branch’s split from the Reichsinstitut should be eliminated and Rosenberg’s Frankfurt branch of the Hohe Schule should take over in order to end an “unjustified dualism in Jewish research.” Müller insisted that the Party should have absolute leadership in research on the “Jewish question.” The few real professionals could be pooled and it thus would be clear that the Party and the state pull together.26 Remaining well out of range of competition, rather early on the Foreign Office had a central networking function, its purview extending over the whole field of anti-Jewish research. On the distribution list of the Foreign Office Department DIII “Germany Division” (1940–1943) and Department IIA “Interior” (1943– 1945) for all matters concerning the “Jewish question” and all news concerning anti-Jewish activities and measures, one finds, alongside Eichmann’s department in the Reich Security Main Office, the Ministry of the Interior, the Ministry of Propaganda, the Office of Racial Policy, the “Anti-Semitic Action” coalition, the Reichsinstitut, and the Frankfurt Institute.27 As early as spring 1943, the Foreign Office, which had been tasked with promoting anti-Semitism abroad before the war had even begun, attempted to strengthen its anti-Jewish message and asked, among others, the Reichsinstitut and the Frankfurt Institute to contribute material. The Reichsinstitut quickly demonstrated its willingness to participate.28 At about the same time that Rosenberg was preparing the Krakow Congress, in early 1944, the Foreign Office and the Reich Security Main Office were working together under the umbrella of the “Anti-Jewish Action Service” or “Anti-Jewish Foreign Action” (Information Office VI; later Information Office X, Information Office XIV) with the aim of deepening and strengthening anti-Jewish propaganda abroad, with cooperation from the German foreign missions in Turkey, Spain, Portugal, Sweden, and Switzerland. The activities of the RSHA, Office Rosenberg, and the various institutes for anti-Jewish research were to be centralized. Klaus Schickert of the Frankfurt Institute was active in the “scholarship” department that was responsible for dealing with foreign antiSemitic scholars, scientists, and institutes.29 On a trip through Southeastern Europe to visit German embassies and German scholarly institutions, he tried to get in touch with local scholars and to popularize the work of the Frankfurt institute: The Jewish question has been perceived either as a matter of policy (and concern of the executive that falls under the purview of the Reich Leader SS) or as a question of propaganda. Now, scholarship asserts itself as a third way. It is essential to enter into the intellectual circles of those foreign nations who dismiss any involvement with the Jewish question as “propaganda.” Even if they are politically open-minded, they do not believe it is possible to pursue the Jewish question by scholarly means. On the other hand, today we can see the limitations of the propagandistic treatment. We have to get in touch with the foreign academic circles, and we can do that only when acting from the platform of German scholarship.30

“The Anti-Semite Internationale”  265 Each German foreign mission was to designate an official in charge of the “Jewish Question,” someone who would work closely with the RSHA’s “Aryanization consultants” to intensify the gathering of information, exert greater influence, and ramp up propaganda activities. In April 1944, in the Lower Silesian town of Krummhübel (Karpacz in Polish), a working meeting was held for employees of German missions abroad and for the “Aryanization consultants” in the occupied territories and allied countries, including Six, von Thadden, and Ballensiefen. The conference had been convened to discuss the need for intensified work in the field of international information concerning the “Jewish Question.”31 Ballensiefen and von Thadden both spoke on a matter of a secret nature – specifically, the “situation in Europe regarding anti-Jewish policies and the state of anti-Jewish executive measures.” Six discussed the “physical elimination of Eastern Jewry,” which aimed to deprive Judaism of its “biological reserves.” Schickert lectured on “Scholarship and the Jewish Question.” Lectures were also held on how the “Jewish question” was being handled in Hungary, France, Spain, Switzerland, Italy, Sweden, Denmark, Romania, Bulgaria, Croatia, Slovakia, and Turkey; what anti-Jewish measures were being taken or could be; and on the possibilities of collecting information and antiJewish propaganda. Particular attention was focused on the neutral countries, since they were seen as a good place to begin reinforcing any “anti-Jewish tendencies” in England and the United States that previous research had indicated existed. The plan was to establish an extensive archive at the Foreign Office of materials gathered abroad. Jewish scholars forced to work at the RSHA would be used to evaluate these. Independently, the Propaganda Ministry attempted to establish a “Central Institute for the Jewish Question,” which would be based upon the “AntiJewish World League” in Nuremberg, but this failed after only a short while.32 To facilitate the anti-Jewish propaganda of the Radio, Press, and Culture Department of the Foreign Office, the RSHA put all of the newspaper and magazine materials collected by Office VII at its disposal, in addition to its “Jewish library,” most of which had by then been moved to the Silesian town of Schlesiersee (Sława) near Glogau (Glogów). Ballensiefen spearheaded this project for the RSHA. Near Krakow, “appropriate Jewish scholars” were already processing library materials specifically focused on “The Jew and the War” – that is, the alleged war guilt of the Jews and their behavior as “enemies of the people.” Hitler also requested from Rosenberg that anti-Jewish propaganda activities targeting foreign workers in Germany should be increased.33 In order to direct the attention of world opinion to the supposedly globally coordinated Jewish influence on politics and the economy, a Yearbook of Jewish World Policy was to be published. Again, the point was to present the war as the product of purely Jewish interests. Materials for the publication would be taken from those collected by the Foreign Office, the SD, the Welt-Dienst, the Frankfurt Institut zur Erforschung der Judenfrage, the Reichsinstitut, the Institute for Foreign Policy Research, Stuttgart’s Deutsches Ausland-Institut (Institute for the Study of Germandom Abroad), the Institute for the World Economy in Kiel, the Einsatzstab Reichsleiter Rosenberg (Reichsleiter Rosenberg Taskforce) in Ratibor, the Vienna Correspondence Office of the Foreign Office (the so-called

266  Dirk Rupnow Office Ronneberger),34 and the Reichssippenamt (Kinship Office), which had been moved for storage to Rathsfeld Castle in the Kyffhäuser Hills to protect it from possible air raids. Klaus Schickert was designated the editor in charge.35 The Foreign Office disapproved of the establishment of an “Anti-Jewish Internationale,” in the sense of an umbrella organization meant to consolidate all anti-Semitic currents under German leadership, because they believed it would adversely affect “the development of the delicate little plant of anti-Semitism in many countries.”36 Accordingly, when disseminating anti-Jewish research to foreign countries, special care was taken to build on local traditions, to transform and exploit them for German purposes. During the final phase of the Third Reich, scholarship as well as anti-Jewish research served to legitimize the regime, even as the work was increasingly subordinated. Despite extensive activities throughout the twelve years of the Third Reich, including the establishment of several independent research institutions and diverse research projects, Nazi anti-Jewish research barely progressed beyond its initial phase. Shortly after the Nazi seizure of power, attempts were made to establish this new research field, and considerable momentum developed behind them, if for no other reason than the characteristic pressure of competition that was inherent in the Nazi system. But this competition also was the very reason why no fixed structures were able to emerge before 1945. The fact that many things remained unfinished within the twelve short years of the “Thousand Year Reich” is hardly surprising. Several of these years had to be spent first Nazifying the academic landscape, and then towards the end of the war, a stalemate set in. This means that the actual window for development of a new field of research was in fact less than ten years, which certainly is not enough time to introduce new research agendas, especially when taking into account the inertia of academia. Internally, too, there were debates as to whether or not scholars had been too quickly dismissed from the universities at the start of the Nazification; perhaps too little time had been given them to prove their fitness for the new political order. The academy, it seems, is not as quick to adapt as the bureaucracy.37 This is also true of the effort to internationalize or Europeanize anti-Jewish scholarship and propaganda: Once Europeanization had become a central political claim in the course of the war, it was also adopted by anti-Semitism and expressed in its scholarship. But here again, what was articulated as a theoretical requirement was never fully realized in practice. The German need for control and dominance stood opposed to it and to the differences among national anti-Semitic traditions. Scholarship was thought of as an ideal means to overcome those differences, in contrast to ordinary propaganda. But, due to the exigencies of the ongoing war, scholarly efforts remained necessarily fragmentary. Then again, these circumstances did not diminish the power of anti-Jewish stereotypes and beliefs.

Notes 1 For a comprehensive discussion, see Dirk Rupnow, Judenforschung im Dritten Reich: Wissenschaft zwischen Politik, Propaganda und Ideologie (Baden-Baden: Nomos, 2011). 2 On “Ostforschung,” see Ingo Haar, “ ‘Ostforschung’ und ‘Lebensraum’-Politik im Nationalsozialismus,” in Geschichte der Kaiser-Wilhelm-Gesellschaft im

“The Anti-Semite Internationale”  267 Nationalsozialismus: Bestandsaufnahme und Stand der Forschung, ed. Doris Kaufmann (Göttingen: Wallstein, 2000), 451. 3 Important is also Carl Schmitt’s contemporary construct of “konkrete Ordnung” (concrete order), which establishes connections between normativity and völkisch as well as ideological commitments. Carl Schmitt, Über die drei Arten des rechtswissenschaftlichen Denkens (Berlin: Duncker & Humblot, 1993) [first published in 1934]. 4 Koeppen to Schickert, February 22, 1944, CDJC, CXXXIX-55. 5 Paul Kluke, “Nationalsozialistische Europaideologie,” Vierteljahrshefte für Zeitgeschichte 3, no. 3 (1995): 270. 6 On anti-Jewish propaganda of the Nazi regime during the war see Jeffrey Herf’s detailed study, The Jewish Enemy Nazi Propaganda during World War II and the Holocaust (Cambridge/MA and London: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 2008), and Jeffrey Herf, “The ‘Jewish War’: Goebbels and the Antisemitic Campaigns of the Nazi Propaganda Ministry,” Holocaust and Genocide Studies 19, no. 1 (2005). 7 Die Behandlung der Judenfrage in der deutschen Presse vom 13.6.1944 from the antiSemitic Author Wolf Meyer-Christian to the Ministry of Propaganda, June 13, 1944. Quoted in Max Weinreich, Hitler’s Professors: The Part of Scholarship in Germany’s Crimes against the Jewish People (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1999) [first published in 1946], 235–238. 8 Herf, The Jewish Enemy, 183 et seqq. and 198 et seqq. 9 Schmidt-Burgk an Staatssekretär, Betr. Besprechung mit Hagemeier, January 6, 1943, BArch Berlin, R 55/518, fol. 78. 10 Aktenvermerk, Betr. Aussprache beim RL am 26.2.1943, February  26, 1943 BArch Berlin, NS 8/131, fol. 1. 11 Stuckenberg an Hopf, Betr. Schloß Philippsthal, May  14, 1943, BArch Berlin, R 55/518, fol. 93. 12 Raul Hilberg, Die Vernichtung der europäischen Juden (Frankfurt am Main: Fischer Taschenbuch, 1990), 3: 1087; Erich Goldhagen, “Weltanschauung und Endlösung: Zum Antisemitismus der nationalsozialistischen Führungsschicht,” Vierteljahrshefte für Zeitgeschichte 24, no. 4 (1976): 389. 13 Wilhelm Grau, “Lösungsversuche der Judenfrage,” Weltkampf 1/2 (1941): 15. 14 Wilhelm Grau, “Institut zur Erforschung der Judenfrage,” Weltkampf 1/2 (1941): 19. 15 BArch Berlin, NS 8/132; NS 15/634; R 55/20890. The projected program is in BArch Berlin, R 55/20.890, fol. 3–7; Weinreich, Hitler’s Professors, 219–235; Patricia von Papen, “ “Scholarly” Antisemitism During the Third Reich: The Reichsinstitut’s Research on the “Jewish Question” 1935–1945” (PhD diss., Columbia University, 1999), 241–266. 16 Rosenberg to Bormann, June 16, 1944, CDJC, CXLIII-354. 17 Hagemeyer to Schickert, February  24, 1944, CDJC, CXXXIX-54; Wagner, Besprechungsprotokoll, January 5, 1944, PA AA, R 99.461, Inland II – A/B: Vorbereitung für den antijüdischen Kongreß. 18 Entwurf zur Schlußresolution des Kongresses, o.D., in BArch Berlin, NS 15/634, fol. 6, and CDJC, CXLIII-354 (June 14, 1944). 19 Arbeitsausschußsitzung für antijüdischen europäischen Kongreß am 16.2.1944 in der Wohnung des Dienstleiters Hagemeyer, Dienststelle Rosenberg, PA  AA, R  99.433 (fiche 5354). 20 Hagemeyer, Bericht über die Notwendigkeit einer stärkeren Unterstützung des Kampfes gegen das Judentum von deutschen Behörden und Dienststellen, May  26, 1944, CDJC, CXLIV-410. 21 Protokoll über die Arbeitsbesprechung im Gästehaus Eppenhain am 23. Juni 1944 betreffs Behandlung der Judenfrage in Ungarn und Zusammenarbeit zwischen dem “Welt-Dienst” und den ungarischen Gästen, CDJC, CXLIV-407 (Ballensiefen). 22 Maria Kühn-Ludewig, Johannes Pohl (1904–1960): Judaist und Bibliothekar im Dienste Rosenbergs  – Eine biographische Dokumentation (Hannover: Laurentius, 2000): 216–220.

268  Dirk Rupnow 23 E.g., German (61.500 pieces), French (33.200), English (1.000), Spanish (4.200), Hungarian (8.300), Dutch (43.700), Bulgarian (2.225), Greek (1.500), Ukrainian (26.300), Polish (32.700), Arab (5.000), Serbian (2.000), Croatian (4.100), Italian (4.700), Latvian (5.000). 1944 an increase up to 400.000 pieces was predicted, including copies in Czech (5.200), Lithuanian (1.100), Portuguese (2.300), Slovakian (1.200), Finnish (15.200); Welt-Dienst/Richter an Koeppen, April 16, 1944, CDJC, CXLIV-408; Richter, Papierbedarf des “Welt-Dienst”, June 10, 1944, ibid. Also v. Hahn/AA, Aktennotiz, 22.4.1943, PA AA, R 99.343, Inland II-A/B: Welt-Dienst; sowie BArch Berlin, R 6/195, und NS 20/77. The Welt-Dienst also operated an press agency, the Informationen zur Judenfrage: Ausgewählte Mitteilungen aus der jiddischen und hebräischen Presse, USHMM, RG-11.001M.19, reel 93, fond 1363 RMP, opis 1, folder 164 (Osobyi). 24 Rosenberg to Amann, January 6, 1941, CDJC, CXLIII-328. 25 Weltdienst to Krebs, April 18, 1944, Institute for the History of Frankfurt (Institut für Stadtgeschichte Frankfurt am Main), MA 2.564. 26 Schickert, Aufzeichnung über eine Unterredung mit Professor Karl Alexander von Müller am 26.1.1944 in München, January 29, 1944, CDJC, CXXXIX-56. 27 Christopher R. Browning, The Final Solution and the German Foreign Office: A Study of Referat D III of Abt. Deutschland 1940–1943 (New York: Holmes & Meier, 1978); Hans-Jürgen Döscher, Das Auswärtige Amt im Dritten Reich: Diplomatie im Schatten der „Endlösung“ (Berlin: Siedler, 1987), 203, 213–255, 263, 293–302. Also see Browning on the involved personnel of the foreign office. Because of its fanatism, the “Abteilung Deutschland” was seen as an alien body in the ministry. John P. Fox, “German Bureaucrat or Nazified Ideologue? Ambassador Otto Abetz and Hitler’s AntiJewish Policies 1940–1944,” in Power, Personalities and Policies: Essays in Honour of Donald Cameron Watt, ed. Michael Graham Frey (London: Frank Cass, 1922), 179, referring to an affidavit of Dr. Herbert Siegfried in the Weizsäcker Documents. 28 AA an alle diplomatischen und berufskonsularischen Vertretungen im Ausland, Betr. Die Judenfrage als Faktor der Außenpolitik im Jahre 1938, January 25, 1939, PA AA, Botschaft Paris: Juden und Freimaurer/706, and the written records in PA AA, R 99.336 (fiche 5328). 29 Wagner, Meldung für den Herrn RAM, January  5, 1944, PA AA, R  99.337, Inland II-A/B: Judentum; v. Thadden, Vorlage an Staatssekretär, 12.4.1944, Inland II-A/B: Eröffnung des Instituts zur Erforschung der Judenfrage in Frankfurt/R99.363; Hauserlaß II/1–158/44, May 18, 1944, PA AA, Botschaft Paris, Judenfragen/1.125a; AA/ Inf. XIV, Antijüdische Auslandsaktion, April 28, 1944, PA AA, R 100.849/R100.849a (fiche 2178). 30 Klaus Schickert, Bericht über eine Reise im Auftrag des AA, Inf. XIV (Antijüdische Auslandsaktion) nach Südosteuropa (March–April 1944), o.D., BArch Berlin, BDC/ PK, Klaus Schickert (May 23, 1944). 31 Written record in PA AA, R 99.357 (fiche 5409); IMT, PS-3319. More about the meeting at Krummhübel in Steinkühler, “Antijüdische Auslandsaktion” (with complete protocol); Lutz Hachmeister, Der Gegnerforscher: Die Karriere des SS-Führers Franz Alfred Six (Munich: Beck, 1998), 266, 283. 32 Wagner, Aktennotiz, February 15, 1944, PA AA, R 99.399, Inland II-A/B: Antijüdische Weltliga; Wurm an v. Thadden, April 3, 1944. This is possibly the context for the publication of the periodical Archiv für Judenfragen: Schriften zur geistigen Überwindung des Judentums under the influence of the Propaganda Ministry. Editor is a not identified “Zentralforschungsinstitut Berlin”. The program of the publication named not less than eight planned subgroups: Gruppe A: Der Antijudaismus und seine Begründung, Gruppe B: Jüdisches Volk, Gruppe C: Die humanitäre Mission des Judentums, Gruppe D: Judentum und Wirtschaft, Gruppe E: Judentum und Politik, Gruppe F: Judentum und Publizistik, Gruppe G: Judentum und Kunst, Gruppe H: Judentum und Wissenschaft, only in the years 1943 and 1944 issues in the group A were published including an essay of Gerhard Kittel named: Die Behandlung des Nichtjuden nach dem Talmud (Gruppe A, 1/1943). Weinreich, Hitler’s Professors, 61.

“The Anti-Semite Internationale”  269 33 Written record in PA AA, R 99.337 (fiche 5332). About Hitlers directive to Rosenberg see von Thadden, Aktennotiz, December 14, 1943, PA AA, R 99.336 (fiche 5330); von Thadden, Aufzeichnung über meine Besprechung mit Dienstleiter Hagemeyer von der Dienststelle Rosenberg am 16.12.1943, December 16, 1943, PA AA, R 99.344 (fiche 5354). 34 After his career in the Third Reich (SS-Untersturmführer and member of the SD in Vienna, chief of the field office Ost of the Reichsstudentenführung, chief of the information and studies office of the foreign office in Vienna 1939–1944, and chief of the news service of the Südosteuropa-Gesellschaft, connected to the RSHA; habilitation at the Hochschule für Welthandel in Vienna 1944), Franz Ronneberger (1913–1999) held positions at the Westdeutschen Allgemeinen Zeitung, at the Verwaltungs- und Wirtschaftsakademie Bochum and at the Stifterverband für die Deutsche Wissenschaft. In the field of humanities, he was a professor for sociology and social pedagogy (1964–1980) and taught political sciences and communication at the university of Erlangen-Nürnberg. He is called a pioneer in the field of interdisciplinary communication sciences. Peer Heinelt, ”PR-Päpste“: Die kontinuierlichen Karrieren von Carl Hundhausen, Albert Oeckel und Franz Ronneberger (Berlin: Dietz, 2003). 35 Gesandter Schleier, Betr. Herausgabe eines Jahrbuches der jüdischen Weltpolitik, September 15, 1944, PA AA, R 99.337 (fiche 5333). 36 von Thadden, Aktennotiz, May 21, 1943, PA AA, R 99.392 (fiche 5563). 37 Baeumler, Ergänzung der Aktennotiz [für Rosenberg] vom 3.4.1944, April  3, 1944, o.D., CDJC, CXXXIX-48.

Bibliography Archives BArch Berlin: Federal Archives Berlin (Bundesarchiv Berlin), Berlin. CDJC: Center of Contemporary Jewish Documentation (Centre de Documentation Juive Contemporaine), Paris. ISG Frankfurt am Main: Institute for the History of Frankfurt (Institut für Stadtgeschichte Frankfurt am Main), Frankfurt am Main. PA AA: Political Archive of the Federal Foreign Office (Politisches Archiv des Auswärtigen Amts), Berlin. USHMM: Archives of the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, Washington, D.C.

Printed sources and literature Browning, Christopher R. The Final Solution and the German Foreign Office: A Study of Referat D III of Abt. Deutschland 1940–1943. New York: Holmes & Meier, 1978. Döscher, Hans-Jürgen. Das Auswärtige Amt im Dritten Reich: Diplomatie im Schatten der “Endlösung”. Berlin: Siedler, 1987. Fox, John P. “German Bureaucrat or Nazified Ideologue? Ambassador Otto Abetz and Hitler’s Anti-Jewish Policies 1940–1944.” In Power, Personalities and Policies: Essays in Honour of Donald Cameron Watt, ed. Michael Graham Frey, 175–232. London: Frank Cass, 1922. Goldhagen, Erich. “Weltanschauung und Endlösung: Zum Antisemitismus der nationalsozialistischen Führungsschicht.” Vierteljahrshefte für Zeitgeschichte 24, no. 4 (1976): 379–405. Grau, Wilhelm. “Institut zur Erforschung der Judenfrage.” Weltkampf 1/2 (1941). ———. “Lösungsversuche der Judenfrage.” Weltkampf 1/2 (1941).

270  Dirk Rupnow Haar, Ingo. “ ‘Ostforschung’ und ‘Lebensraum’-Politik im Nationalsozialismus.” In Geschichte der Kaiser-Wilhelm-Gesellschaft im Nationalsozialismus: Bestandsaufnahme und Stand der Forschung, ed. Doris Kaufmann, 437–467. Göttingen: Wallstein, 2000. Hachmeister, Lutz. Der Gegnerforscher: Die Karriere des SS-Führers Franz Alfred Six. Munich: Beck, 1998. Heinelt, Peer. “PR-Päpste”: Die kontinuierlichen Karrieren von Carl Hundhausen, Albert Oeckel und Franz Ronneberger. Berlin: Dietz, 2003. Herf, Jeffrey. “The ‘Jewish War’: Goebbels and the Antisemitic Campaigns of the Nazi Propaganda Ministry.” Holocaust and Genocide Studies 19, no. 1 (2005): 51–80. ———. The Jewish Enemy Nazi Propaganda during World War II and the Holocaust. Cambridge/MA and London: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 2008. Hilberg, Raul. Die Vernichtung der europäischen Juden, vol. 3. Frankfurt am Main: Fi­scher Taschenbuch, 1990. Kluke, Paul. “Nationalsozialistische Europaideologie.” Vierteljahrshefte für Zeitgeschichte 3, no. 3 (1955): 240–275. Kühn-Ludewig, Maria. Johannes Pohl (1904–1960): Judaist und Bibliothekar im Dienste Rosenbergs – Eine biographische Dokumentation. Hannover: Laurentius, 2000. Rupnow, Dirk. Judenforschung im Dritten Reich: Wissenschaft zwischen Politik, Propaganda und Ideologie. Baden-Baden: Nomos, 2011. Schmitt, Carl. Über die drei Arten des rechtswissenschaftlichen Denkens. Berlin: Duncker & Humblot 1993 [first published in 1934]. Von Papen, Patricia. ““Scholarly” Antisemitism During the Third Reich: The Reichsinstitut’s Research on the “Jewish Question” 1935–1945.” PhD diss., Columbia University, 1999. Weinreich, Max. Hitler’s Professors: The Part of Scholarship in Germany’s Crimes Against the Jewish People. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1990 [first published in 1946].

15 Heralds of a “new order” Mussolini, Hitler, and the purging of Europe* Patrick Bernhard

German National Socialists and Italian Fascists shared a murderous vision: to create forcibly homogenized national societies in a Europe reorganized under the aegis of a new racist order. Indeed, violent social policy and violent foreign policy were inextricably interwoven and contingent upon each other in both regimes. As Mussolini and Hitler saw it, only the internal cohesion of the Italian and German people would enable them to dominate Europe, and in turn, achieve their vision of a new type of state. Thus, “revolution was a prerequisite for expansion, and expansion for revolution,” to cite an apt formulation by MacGregor Knox.1 Despite the striking commonalities between Fascist Italy and Nazi Germany, scholars have generally regarded the German Neue Ordnung and the Italian Nuovo Ordine as having developed largely independently of each other and as mainly characterized by differences in ideology and practice.2 Furthermore, many researchers of National Socialism and Italian Fascism persist in understanding them as largely distinct phenomena.3 This narrative of difference is based in part on the real differences that doubtless existed between the two dictatorships – the Holocaust, for example, marks a fundamental difference. At the same time, however, the narrative of difference is also the expression and result of the propagation of powerful national stereotypes against the backdrop of the political imperatives of the Cold War, which have continued to affect historiography to this day. These political considerations have made it convenient to manufacture an anti-fascist foundational myth for post-war Italy, in which the idea of a fundamental difference between a relatively harmless Fascist Italy and an utterly dominant and evil Nazi Germany was essential.4 Moreover, the conviction that Hitler’s regime and the Holocaust he launched were utterly unique became a core element of West German identity: German guilt was not supposed to be relativized by comparisons with other dictatorships.5 Given this backdrop, it should no longer come as a surprise that, to date, scholars have rarely explored the question of the extent to which National Socialism and Fascism mutually influenced each other.6 Yet as soon as one poses this question and adopts a transnational perspective, it becomes apparent that the two regime’s visions were actually interwoven and interdependent in a number of ways. This interdependence can be witnessed in the ideas underlying their national visions as well as their implementation. Clearly, the Rome-Berlin Axis was not held together

272  Patrick Bernhard solely by traditional military and foreign policy interests, but was also based on a racist ideological foundation. This common ground became the basis for their joint practices aimed at the “purification” of Europe from the racial and political enemies of the two regimes. I will develop this thesis in three steps. The first part looks at how Mussolini’s policy of social cleansing and imperialistic expansion was perceived during the Weimar Republic and in the early days of the Nazi regime. As will be argued, Fascism, which had achieved power in 1922, served to radicalize pre-existing German fantasies of regeneration and lent them realistic content, because Fascism actually put them into practice, thereby giving evidence for their legitimacy as well as their practical feasibility. Mussolini “had simply done it,” as Hitler once put it.7 The second part of the chapter addresses the ongoing ideological rapprochement between the two regimes as embodied in the Rome-Berlin Axis proclaimed in 1936. The focus of this part is on the shared idea of a Jewish-Bolshevik world conspiracy. The chapter will examine the factors that favored the emergence of this notion. In addition, it will explore the extent to which this shared idea shaped plans by the two regimes for violent expansion across the European continent and the creation of a “new order.” The third part of the chapter looks at the concrete practices of persecution and “purification” jointly set in motion by the two regimes. Two aspects are central: first, the collaboration between Italian and German police forces at the international level beginning after 1936; and second, the various interactions between Italian and German occupation policy in Europe and Africa that arose during the Second World War.

Salutary terror: fascist practices of social cleansing as sources of inspiration during the Weimar Republic and early Nazi regime Lament about Europe’s supposed moral, political, and biological decadence and the campaign for a comprehensive program of regeneration of its peoples were core elements in a discourse about the “crisis of modernity” that was manifest in many European societies since the turn of the century. The concerns about social decline were closely linked to the decreasing European birth rate in the first half of the twentieth century, the emancipation of women, and political upheavals in the wake of the First World War, as a result of which previously authoritarian regimes were dissolved in favor or liberal-pluralistic democracies, or, as occurred in Russia following the 1917 October Revolution, in favor of a communist dictatorship. Scholars have extensively documented the discourse of crisis and hopes for Europe’s rebirth.8 Yet until now, researchers have largely overlooked the critical role Fascist Italy played in this process. Mussolini literally became the “great white hope” for all those who feared that the Europeans would soon be overtaken and marginalized by increased non-European birth rates, especially in Asia.9 At the same time, the fascist dictator was seen as a bulwark against communism, which was regarded as the most serious political manifestation of degeneracy.

Heralds of a “new order”  273 This was largely the case for Germany during the interwar period. Many Germans shared Mussolini’s obsession about demographic developments and his social Darwinist worldview, according to which the supposedly superior races had every right to rule over the supposedly inferior ones.10 In their eyes, what distinguished Mussolini was that he did not limit himself to bemoaning alleged social evils, but rather moved directly into action and instituted comprehensive measures to support those who were considered racially valuable while at the same time rigorously combatting those elements regarded as socially dangerous. Germans paid close attention to Mussolini’s creation of a comprehensive repressive apparatus, his advanced police methods, as well as a broadly interlinked archipelago of prisons and penal colonies.11 German jurists also took note that Mussolini’s state was among the first in Europe to embed “protection of the race” as an integral part of its penal code.12 In this context, the Italians took rigorous steps against anyone who worked against the state-sponsored programs to increase the birth rate. For example, women who underwent an abortion were severely punished. Positive feelings for the fascist regime peaked in the oft-repeated contention by leading German population scientists, including Erwin Baur, ‎Eugen Fischer, and Fritz Lenz, that Mussolini was the only person capable of protecting the “white race” from decline and fall.13 Hitler and his men also showed fascination for Italian Fascism and its politics of regeneration (rigenerazione). They were particularly interested in the violent exclusion of dissidents from Il Duce’s Società nazionale, which was the ideological equivalent of the Nazi Volksgemeinschaft, and roughly translates as “People’s Community.”14 Prior to 1933, the German Führer made repeated reference to what he saw as Italy’s exemplary suppression of communism and socialism; in fact, Mussolini’s Black Shirts acted with great brutality after Mussolini’s seizure of power and murdered over 400 of their opponents in cold blood.15 As Hitler had previously proclaimed at an NSDAP meeting in 1922, Italy demonstrated that it was the “only country” with the “will to follow through” in the battle against communism.16 He spoke of this battle as being of the greatest import: Europe found itself at a “turning point” between two worldviews – nationalism and internationalism (the latter meant to refer to communists, freemasons, and Jews). Hitler often called attention to the anti-Semitic nature of Italian Fascism.17 Italy was resolutely battling against these “parasites on the body of the nation,” Hitler proclaimed, referring to the brutal actions taken against dissidents and deviants as if they were obligatory hygienic measures.18 The “extraordinary work of purification” that Italy had launched through Mussolini also served to vindicate Hitler after his failed Beer Hall Putsch of November 1923.19 Charged with high treason, Hitler declared to the Court that Mussolini’s vigorous programs against the alleged work of corruption, especially on the part of the communists, would ultimately justify his attempted coup; after all, he was trying to protect the nation from the threat of a Bolshevik dictatorship. While Hitler also spoke of Kemal Atatürk’s coup in Turkey, he particularly singled out the historical importance of Italian Fascism. He described the Fascist March on Rome as the “classical example” of a profound social revolution.20

274  Patrick Bernhard Around the same time, Wilhem Frick, who would later become interior minister after Hitler’s seizure of power, and was in charge of the judicial and police persecution of German communists and socialists, issued an even harsher statement. History had taught the National Socialists, as Frick stated in a 1929 speech, that blood must flow in the battle to “exterminate the Marxists,” as had taken place in Italy through “dictatorship and terror.”21 In this way, Frick refrained from drawing on the experience of his own movement in battling its political enemies; instead, his fantasies of violence and murder were spurred on from abroad. Thus, he extrapolated from the example of Italy to imagine a new German society “purified” from communism. The National Socialists recognized the truly revolutionary potential of the fascist social vision at an early point, and saw that its potential was not limited to violence against the internal enemies of the regime, but rather was an enabler of forced homogenization, internal mobilization, and expansionism. The Nazis evoked Italian colonialism as a model of success. As they noted in their publications, ever since Mussolini’s seizure of power in October 1922, the Italian regime had pursued a bloody war of conquest in North Africa. Italy’s colonialist efforts were not simply about winning new territory for the Italian Volk, as was made clear by the central party newspaper, the Völkischer Beobachter.22 As a result of the conflict, Italy found itself in a permanent state of war, and this had engendered a “warrior spirit” in her people. The Nazis saw fascist imperialism as having major reverberations on the nation: Violence and war were useful instruments to fundamentally transform the Italians into a nation of new fascistic men who had internalized the “values” of “Order, Hierarchy, and Discipline,” as Hitler’s chief ideologue, Alfred Rosenberg, proclaimed.23 The “anthropological revolution” that Mussolini intended to introduce with the creation of an uomo nuovo (new man) also resonated in Hitler’s public utterances. Hitler was familiar with the ideas of Italian fascism through, among others, Margherita G. Sarfatti’s 1926 biography of Mussolini translated into German, which the NSDAP recommended as training material.24 Hitler’s 1935 Reichsparteitag speech in Nuremberg is a good example. It is among his most frequently cited speeches, and it addressed German youth, demanding they be as “swift as a greyhound, as tough as leather, and as hard as Krupp steel.” Less often cited, however, is the sentence that follows, “We have to educate a new man so that our People are not destroyed by the symptoms of the degeneration of our time.” Hitler had expressed these sentiments even more clearly a few years earlier during a meeting of the NSDAP in Munich, where he made a direct connection between the social policy of Italian Fascism and his own movement, even referring to Nazism as the direct successor of what the Italian dictator had set in motion. Hitler told his supporters that Mussolini had created a “different Volk” in just six years. “In just the same way,” National Socialism would also create a new German Volk as soon as they assumed power, Hitler asserted. This vision of the future earned thunderous applause from his audience.25 Of course, the notion of a “new man” and the regeneration of a people had a long tradition, especially in German ideological history, and its secular versions

Heralds of a “new order”  275 can be traced back to the beginnings of the modern era.26 Yet it is important to note that National Socialism did not limit itself to evoking this German national tradition, but explicitly referred to the “new man” of Fascism. Making this reference actually changed the original concept. The bonds with Mussolini’s regime revised and radicalized the idea of a new man – what was fundamentally new was the extremely violent way the “new man” was to be implemented by a regime that regarded itself as totalitarian.

Fantasies of domination and conquest: the meaning of ideology within the fascist alliance The Rome-Berlin Axis proclaimed in 1936 was no mere marriage of convenience. As discussed in the previous section, the Axis was instead also based on a racist ideological foundation, which found expression for both peoples in doing battle against their enemies and conquering Lebensraum. The two regimes came to an early recognition that they needed each other in order to turn their ideas into reality. The necessity to close ranks emerged early from the two regime’s shared idée fixe of a communist-inspired world conspiracy. From Hitler’s and Mussolini’s points of view, combatting this conspiracy specifically demanded a level of international cooperation capable of countering the international activity they ascribed to Bolshevism. Such cooperation demanded ideological alignment. The challenge of overcoming Bolshevism was seen as requiring the “fascistization” of European nations, as the Völkische Beobachter explained in 1930, thus adopting a common slogan of Mussolini’s state.27 The National Socialists took on this idea soon after Hitler’s seizure of power. As expressed by the newly founded Gestapo, they wanted to create a “block of states” that were to be turned into the “center of a political defensive front of civilized European states against political criminality.”28 This aim represented a fundamental intersection between German and Italian ideas. In Italy, Mussolini was pursuing entirely parallel goals, as the Bavarian envoy to Rome learned through a fascist informant. Il Duce saw the workings of “international forces” that would stop at nothing to overthrow him and thus Fascism.29 The background was the 1924 murder by fascist thugs of the socialist leader Giacomo Matteotti, approved by Mussolini, but the object of harsh international criticism. Mussolini came up with the obsessive idea that “worker’s regimes” in Great Britain and France were behind a movement to topple him. To stand up to this alleged socialist conspiracy, Mussolini proposed the formation of a “nationalist block of states” made up of Italy, Germany, Austria, Hungary, and possibly Turkey. Mussolini felt bolstered in his conspiracy theory by international responses to his war of aggression in Abyssinia in October 1935. Even the halfhearted sanctions issued by the League of Nations felt to the Italian dictator like ample justification for destroying the national powers in Europe. In conversations with the Nazi political leadership shortly after the Italian invasion of the African nation at the end of 1935, Troilo Salvotti, a fervent fascist negotiator, was clear about his proposal for possible cooperation in persecuting socialists and

276  Patrick Bernhard communists. He described a “Jewish-Freemason Internationale” standing behind international criticism of Italy.30 In fact, Il Duce became ever-more determined in his war against communism, as was noted by members of his inner circle in 1936.31 Beyond this, as we have learned from the recently published diaries of his lover Clara Petacci, Mussolini was also making hateful speeches against the Jews during this period. He called the Jews “disgusting” and said they should “all be destroyed.” “I will imprison them all. . . . They will come to know the steel fist of Mussolini. . . . It is time that the Italians realize that they can no longer be exploited by these snakes.”32 Overall, it is hard to overestimate the radicalizing impact of the imperial ambitions of the two regimes. The aggressive policy of expansion pursued by Fascist Italy and Nazi Germany since the mid-1930s in Europe as well as Africa had major reverberations in both regimes. This was initially true for Hitler’s repressive absorption of areas with German minorities into the German Reich, especially the annexation of the Sudetenland in October  1938. Hitler’s aggressive foreign policy served to intensify the expansionist thinking that had already been a part of Italian Fascism since the late 1920s.33 Mussolini adopted one of Germany’s favorite formulations, asserting in 1936 that a “people (Volk) cannot live without space (Raum).”34 We can also see on the Italian side that the Nazi idea of race functioned as a model, as an integrating framework that linked the new territories with the German Reich. Their successful “unification” was essentially based upon the “notion of blood.” In a discussion between German and Italian racial experts, which took place only a few days after the Wehrmacht invaded the Sudetenland, the Roman representatives were eager to make extensive comparisons to their own situation.35 As noted by Telesio Interlandi, one of the most extreme anti-Semites in the Mussolini regime, Fascist Italy faced a very similar problem: It was important to integrate the many ethnic Italians living outside Italy into the Fascist Empire proclaimed in 1936, but at the same time, the Empire included ever-larger numbers of inhabitants of “foreign” races. On a map of the new Empire, Interlandi showed his German interlocutors the territories he considered especially problematic: the areas of Southern France and Tunisia occupied by Italy. In fact, Italy had laid claim to these and other areas, including Corsica, since the end of the nineteenth century, plus a part of the Balkans and Greece, and they intended to integrate them all into a united Italy and, in this way, “redeem” them.36 It was also in relation to these imperialist concerns that Interlandi spoke about the anti-Semitic laws that Fascist Italy enacted in the fall of 1938. According to Interlandi, an unequivocal definition was required of who would be considered a “true” Italian within this expanded territory and who would not. The new Empire also needed to have its boundaries defined in racial terms. And the German Reich had provided Italy with a promising model with its racial legislation. This serves as an indication that the two earlier attempts to explain the emergence of an antiSemitic legislative agenda in Italy have been inadequate. Such legislation did not occur simply to meet German expectations, with the Italians following along only half-heartedly since they had not been outspoken racists, as we can read in oftenapologetic portrayals of Italian Fascism.37 Nor was the expulsion of the Jews from

Heralds of a “new order” 277 the fascist “Società nationale” a process entirely independent from Nazi Germany, as has been argued for some time by those excessively trending towards revisionism. Rather, there needs to be a third, post-revisionist reading of this history that also applies to the racial policies of other authoritarians to openly fascist regimes during those years. The German model was exemplary, precisely because people were in fundamental agreement with the Nazis – in the interests of their own Volk and at the forefront of violent expansionism, they felt the need to separate the races.38 In the case of Italy, ever-closer contact with the Third Reich under the aegis of the Rome-Berlin Axis was superimposed upon a long-standing national tradition of autochthonous racist thinking and behavior. Whatever Italy borrowed was voluntary at every step along the way, and based on a shared ideological foundation.39 In the reverse direction, however, Fascist Italy’s aggression against the African continent was also a source of inspiration for the Nazi regime. The Abyssinian war had a particularly major impact. This was the conflict that truly made the Führer feel “happy,” as a seemingly cheerful Joseph Goebbels noted in his diaries in early August 1935.40 As the German propaganda minister explained, war had become inevitable. To Hitler, Italy’s impending attack on Abyssinia offered a huge chance to revise the Versailles post-war order in Europe. The massive international crisis created by Mussolini’s claims on the Horn of Africa would allow Germany to “break her chains,” as Hitler said a few weeks later.41 With France and Britain preoccupied by the African conflict, the Reich would have free hand to expand in Europe. “Our finest hour is soon to come,” Goebbels remarked, concluding that the inner circle of the Nazi regime was deeply impressed by the war. Thus, for Hitler, the invasion of Abyssinia was much more than a traditional colonial war; it was a door opener to his own aspirations for Empire in Eastern Europe, a realm he intended to use as the habitat of the German New Man.42 At the same time, Hitler recognized that imperialism represented a major common denominator for Germany and Italy. For the German dictator, the fascist regime had shown its true face in Africa. By expanding its Lebensraum and resettling thousands of colonists in new Italian-dominated territories, Mussolini was pursuing goals that Hitler characterized in a memoir as “substantiated by the Volk.”43 Thus, the key factor was no longer the Italian nation, but rather, the Italian Volk and its racist future, which was to be ensured through an empire. Hitler often returned to the theme of the close connection between social policy and expansionist policy for both of the fascist regimes in the late 1930s.44 He made a number of important inferences from this link for the war he planned to wage in Europe, as for example in his well-known 1936 memorandum on autarchy.45 In this memorandum, Hitler emphasized that only the Third Reich and muchadmired Fascist Italy were capable of having sufficient impact on German and Italian society and be sufficiently committed to the common goal of war to make possible a field campaign against the communist Soviet Union “with any prospect of success.” Thus, the ability to fully mobilize the nation was part of the core identity of fascist regimes, and therefore an important component of dictatorial selfcharacterization. Other states, “infected by Marxism,” lacked resolve or backing

278  Patrick Bernhard from their societies. As Hitler saw it, authoritarian (but not fascist) regimes were still forced to secure the stability of the leadership through policy and the military; they were “unable to direct this armed hand outwards for the preservation of their states” against the communist menace. Western democracies, according to Hitler, were in an even worse position: In these countries, the social centrifugal forces were much too powerful to permit effective defense of the nation. They simply lacked enough cohesion. This may have been a clear misestimation on Hitler’s part, but it helps explain his aggressive behavior in 1939, when he felt essentially backed by his Italian Axis partner. The emphasis here is on “essentially.” The two regimes were often united at an ideological level, but when it came to implementing their shared goals, there were often tangible difficulties. Part of the reason for this was doubtless the persistence of mutual resentments.46 In addition, their difficulties in collaboration resulted from the fact that, as a general principle, international cooperation was still in its infancy.47 A comparative look shows that ultranationalistic regimes were not the only ones with major difficulties in cross-border collaboration; democratic states also had their troubles. Mutual mistrust was so great, for example, that the US FBI and its British equivalent MI6 were unable to get beyond the very first steps in their security service collaboration.48 Nazi Germany and Fascist Italy were not immune to such difficulties, and found themselves part of a common trend as they battled to attune and coordinate their war efforts.49

Creating racial empires: the persecution of the “Undesirables” and the Axis occupation of Europe and Africa Military cooperation between Nazi Germany and Fascist Italy is a prime example of the broader difficulties facing the Axis partners. Because of these shortcomings, scholars have often overlooked the fact that, despite any nationalist resentment, there were many aspects of the Axis alliance where the collaboration proceeded relatively smoothly. Actually, the Axis project was characterized by a myriad of initiatives, as Ruth Ben-Ghiat has recently pointed out.50 The history of the Axis alliance has only been partially researched to date, but the findings already allow us to see that it went far beyond joint war efforts. The agenda was far broader: A major goal was to reconcile nations that were still enemies in the aftermath of the First World War, along with mutual learning, and the two nations pursued these goals in a number of arenas. The New Order envisioned by the National Socialists and Italian Fascists aimed at harmonizing existing legal and social orders, a process not unlike what has taken place in the European Union, but for the Axis, under the auspices of anti-liberal and racist principles. Areas of mutual cooperation and exchange included civil and penal legislation, welfare policy, urban development and settlement policies, and police work, especially the joint prosecution of enemies across national boundaries.51 A key indication of the character of the fascist alliance is that repression was one of the first areas of cooperation between the two regimes, and for many years

Heralds of a “new order”  279 continued to be one of the most important. In 1940, the German embassy still described the status of German-Italian collaboration in glowing terms – “in virtually no other area” was the Axis partnership structured more closely than in the area of the police.52 In fact, the Police Treaty concluded in 1936 did contain extraordinarily far-reaching provisions.53 It provided for comprehensive exchange of information, especially about political enemies, and the interlocking of newly created institutions in the two nations, specifically including the appointment of police attachés at the embassies in Rome and Berlin. Overall, well over 15,000 individuals in Italy and Germany fell into the crosshairs of the two nations’ repressive apparatus in this way. Among the first targets pursued were the “political enemies” of the two regimes; that is, communists and socialists living in exile. Only a short time later, they included all those who did not match the racist and social “ideals” of the two dictatorships – homosexuals, career criminals, prostitutes, the “work shy,” and deserters. Ultimately, the list also included individual Jews who had fled Germany to what they were hoping was a safer Italy in the wake of Hitler’s seizure of power in 1933. They were arrested and remanded to the territory of the other Axis partner. Police and other officials spoke about the “purification” of the Volk and argued that such undesirables ought to be “used up” in their country of origin, by which they meant forced labor or, worse yet, internment in a concentration camp.54 Moreover, police collaboration had more far-reaching effects. For example, it resulted in greater standardization, especially in coordinating the procurement and sharing of suspects’ fingerprints.55 Second, in the course of their collaboration, German and Italian police came to a unified understanding about whom to consider as dangerous; in this way, collaboration led to ideological accord. This process is especially impressive at the level of international policing. The International Criminal Police Commission, the forerunner of Interpol, was founded in 1923 in Vienna, and during the 1930s, Italy and Germany increasingly set the agenda for its work.56 The fascist model made a deep impression on conservativenationalistic representatives from other countries. In private conversations with Reinhard Heydrich in 1938, for example, police representatives from Sweden, Norway, and Denmark expressed considerable sympathy for Germany’s attitude towards the “Jewish Problem,” even if they did not fully approve of the radical measures taken against the Jews.57 Other prime targets for the Commission were the Sinti and Roma.58 In the early 1930s the members of the Commission agreed to create a special department to combat what they called “the gypsy nuisance”: Roma and Sinti were depicted as people who crossed Europe’s new national borders without control and were also seen as born criminals.59 The Commission decided that the international “gypsy problem” could no longer be dealt with by nation-states one by one, and, instead, such national measures needed to be complemented by anti-Gypsy measures at the international level. In fact, the Commission set up an international “Gypsy registry” in Vienna in 1936.60 The registry contained police photographs, fingerprints, genealogical data, and information on the family networks of those recorded. These measures undoubtedly introduced routines of persecution in Europe, and

280  Patrick Bernhard they help to explain the often seamless collaboration of the Gestapo and SS with local police forces in territories occupied by Germany. In addition, the image of the “gypsy” as an enemy became a fixed category in battling the enemies of the fascist states. Third, the close collaboration between police forces built mutual trust, which was the precondition for further collaboration. Participants got to know and appreciate each other through frequent international visits – such visits were undertaken not only by chiefs of police, but also by rank-and-file policemen belonging to the repressive apparatus of each Axis nation.61 In a few instances, genuine friendships seem to have developed, as for example between Heinrich Himmler and his counterpart Arturo Bocchini.62 Fourth, such contacts resulted in ideological radicalization. For example, a member of Bocchini’s staff asserted in 1937 that, compared to the Gestapo, his own police officers were too lax in their anti-communist efforts, so he pressed for a much harsher policy against allegedly subversive elements.63 What is very clearly apparent from these examples is that the German model spurred discontent with the status quo among the radical forces in Italy. Police collaboration did not come to an end as war broke out in 1939 – on the contrary, it actually intensified. The work shifted from combating internal enemies to combatting external enemies. The Axis powers’ occupation policy during World War II – marked by exploitation, mass violence, and ethnic cleansing – was the result of an explosive mixture of collaboration and learning, on the one hand, and competition and differentiation, on the other, which further impelled the spiral of radicalization observable in the development of both regimes.64 Indeed, we do not find strict parallels between German and Italian occupation forces; rather, each nation’s area of rule had reciprocal impacts on the repressive practices of the other. The fact of competition between the two Axis powers provoked an escalation of violence that often had gruesome consequences for the people who were affected. The Balkans area is a striking example.65 As James Burgwyn and Lidia Santarelli have shown using the example of Slovenia, Dalmatia, and Greece, the execution of hostages and the deportation of thousands of civilians to concentration camps erected by the Italians themselves cannot be fully explained on the basis of intensified partisan activity or fascism’s own racial ideology.66 An additional motivation was competition between the two Axis partners. Mussolini wanted to prove to Hitler that Italy was also capable of conquering a nation. This proof included mass executions and forced labor and also comprised an open and deliberate “hunger policy,” which conservative estimates suggest resulted in the death of at least 200,000 Greek citizens. To conclude, in this realm, we can observe progressive concordance between the violent practices of the two regimes. This concordance was also true regarding anti-Semitic measures. Of course, the persecution of the Jews was the cause of ever-greater friction within the fascist alliance. A few Italian officers refused to hand over the Jews in their area of jurisdiction to the Germans. However, this did not by any means always take place for humanitarian reasons, as Jonathan Steinberg, in particular, has suggested, thereby perpetuating the unreflective national stereotype of the good-hearted Italians.67 In fact, other motivations played a major role. On the Italian side, there was a desire

Heralds of a “new order”  281 not to let its Axis partner interfere in Italy’s internal affairs, and to demonstrate that Italy could independently manage the territories it occupied. There were also purely economic and strategic motives. Jews who paid huge sums to state officials, for example, were able to avoid being arrested and recruited for forced labor.68 Further, by refusing to hand over Jews who lived in the Italian-occupied territories to the SS, Italian generals who feared punishment as war criminals sought to present themselves as potential future partners to the British and Americans.69 What is even more unsettling, however, is the recurrent instances in which the Italians cooperated with the Germans in persecuting Jews. The Eastern Front is a good example. As very recent studies have shown, Italian troop formations behind the front were all too willing to serve as henchmen for the Germans. They had no qualms about helping them combat the partisans and even handed over captured Jews to the firing squads of the SD (Sicherheitsdienst).70 As Thomas Schlemmer has persuasively shown, these crimes were at least in part ideologically motivated; field communications he cites from ordinary Italian soldiers clearly embodied racist and anti-communist stereotypes. However, it was in North Africa that the persecution of the Jews went the furthest. Indeed, the local Italian authorities conducted a program of persecuting the Jews that was largely independent of the Germans, which in addition was extremely brutal and went well beyond what took place in other Italianoccupied territories.71 At the same time, however, there was some collaboration and exchange with German authorities here as well. Thus, the Italian authorities informed German civil and military offices about their repressive actions against Arabs and Jews and embedded SS officers in their own colonial police, thereby giving them full access to the Italian intelligence apparatus in North Africa. In addition, the Italian occupation authorities even adopted German organizational structures of anti-Semitic repression. They created Jewish Councils (Judenräte) in Tunis modeled on the German example. From November 1942 until their retreat, the Axis powers ran a short-lived occupation regime in Tunisia, before their last beachhead on the African continent fell in May  1943. The German occupation authorities had installed a Jewish Council a short time earlier, which was intended to facilitate the organization of Jewish forced labor. The Germans transferred their earlier experiences with the exploitation of Jewish individuals in France and Eastern Europe to Africa.72 The Italian occupying authorities made immediate use of this outside knowledge resource and similarly set up a Jewish Council, and with its help, organized forced labor by Tunisian Jews. This was a unique occurrence in the Italian-ruled territories. It is possible that German-Italian collaboration in matters related to the persecution of Jews even went a step further. Thus, the local chief of the Italian colonial police, Ugo Presti, handed over a list with the numbers of Jews living in Libya to German authorities in October 1942.73 This event is of great import; since the Wannsee Conference, which had taken place only a few months earlier in January 1942, Heydrich and his people were making efforts to obtain reliable information about the numbers of Jews living in the areas ruled by the Axis powers. Future research will have to determine whether Fascist Italy deliberately helped

282  Patrick Bernhard to register people that the Germans were already planning to annihilate. As Götz Aly and Karl Heinz Roth asserted some time ago, collecting statistical information about the Jewish population was the first step along this pathway.74 If this suspicion were to be confirmed, it would show that Africa, along with Europe, was within the sphere of influence of the Holocaust.75

The blueprint for a racial Europe: some concluding remarks In the process of exchange and collaboration between Nazi Germany and Fascist Italy, one detects the outlines of a blueprint for the People’s Fascist and National Socialist Europe of the future, a vision tirelessly invoked by both Hitler and Mussolini. They repeatedly stylized themselves as the heralds of a “new order” and the opening of a new age.76 The often-invoked Rome-Berlin Axis was not just a purely propagandistic chimera designed to laboriously cover over the tensions and conflicts within the fascist alliance, as earlier researchers so often claimed.77 Instead, the alliance contained real substance. Thus, it was the resolute wish of both dictators that despite all mutual resentments and difficulties in international collaboration, the regeneration and restructuring of Europe on a racist ideological foundation should become a reality. The goal was nothing less than the “purification” of the areas under the control of the Axis powers from Bolshevism and “Jewry”. Violence was the key means to accomplish this goal in two ways: It served the implementation of this murderous program, and at the same time, was intended to transform both Italians and Germans and to create fully militarized communities. Both dictatorships invested substantial material and human resources in their efforts to accomplish these goals. As this chapter has shown, the two nations collaborated on a wide range of areas, at the heart of which was police cooperation. A “police axis” was in existence even before the two nations agreed to the Pact of Steel in 1939. The fact that much of what the dictators had hoped for from the collaboration between their regimes was only partially accomplished or had failed should not lead us to conclude that they had lacked the will to infuse life into the Axis. Rather, we should recall two elements: First, the two regimes were forced to experiment with new pathways, since transnational cooperation was generally in its infancy during this period. Second, both dictatorships found themselves with little time in which to transform their visions into reality – visions that were intended not only to encompass huge territories but also future generations. Both Hitler and Mussolini were aware of this fact and revealed themselves as impatient and unyielding towards their own populations, which often seemed to them to still be too weak and decadent.78 It is equally clear that the collaboration between National Socialists and Italian Fascists was not an egalitarian partnership, but rather a relationship marked by competition and dominance. The participants themselves were quite aware of this circumstance, and ultimately accepted it as natural, despite all the frictions within the alliance, since it matched their Social Darwinist worldview. Thus, Mussolini often declared that Hitler was right when he made autonomous decisions;

Heralds of a “new order”  283 in Hitler’s place, he would have acted no differently. The German Volk was inherently a dominant people.79 The situation of intense competition between the dictators also explains the mounting radicalization of the two regimes. National Socialism and Fascism were constantly competing to outdo each other ever since Mussolini seized power in 1922. In other words, competition spurred on the business of fascism. This applied to the ideas and the practices of a politics targeting the regeneration of the people. Until now, historical research has paradoxically described this idea less from a European perspective and more along national lines. However, if we want to better understand the destructive dynamics of these two regimes, it makes good sense to take a harder look at the reciprocal interconnections between them and to reformulate our understanding of the New European Order as being an entangled project of the Axis powers.

Notes * Translated from the German by Lucais Sewell, [email protected]. 1 Pathbreaking, MacGregor Knox, “Conquest, Foreign and Domestic, in Fascist Italy and Nazi Germany,” The Journal of Modern History 56, no. 1 (1984). See also Alexander De Grand, “Mussolini’s Follies: Fascism in Its Imperial and Racist Phase, 1935–1940,” Contemporary European History 13, no. 2 (2004); and recently highly illuminating Roberta Pergher, “Le Opzioni in Sudtirolo e la politica demografica fascista: Tra nazionalizzazione e mancata segregazione razziale,” Geschichte und Region/ Storia e regione 18, no. 2 (2009). 2 From the perspective of Nazi Germany: Birgit Kletzin, Europa aus Rasse und Raum: Die nationalsozialistische Idee der Neuen Ordnung (Münster: LIT, 2000). From the perspective of Italian Fascism: Davide Rodogno, Fascism’s European Empire: Italian Occupation during the Second World War (Cambridge: CUP, 2006) and Monica Fioravanzo, “Die Europakonzeption von Faschismus und Nationalsozialismus (1939– 1943),” Vierteljahrshefte für Zeitgeschichte 58, no. 4 (2010). 3 On the state of the field, see Thomas Schlemmer, Lutz Klinkhammer and Amedeo Osti Guerrazzi, ed., Die “Achse” im Krieg: Politik, Ideologie und Kriegführung 1939 bis 1945 (Paderborn: Schöningh, 2010). 4 Most recently Roberta Pergher and Giulia Albanese, “Introduction: Historians, Fascism and Italian Society – Mapping the Limits of Consent,” in In the Society of Fascists: Acclamation, Acquiescence and Agency in Mussolini’s Italy, ed. Roberta Pergher and Giulia Albanese (New York: Palgrave MacMillan, 2012). 5 Mary Fulbrook, German National Identity After the Holocaust (Cambridge: Polity Press, 1999). 6 Kiran Patel, “In Search for a Transnational Historicization: National Socialism and its Place in History,” in Conflicted Memories: Europeanizing Contemporary Histories, ed. Konrad H. Jarausch and Thomas Lindenberger (New York: Berghahn, 2007). Resuming some of the latest literature Christian Goeschel, “Italia Docet? The Relationship between Italian Fascism and Nazism Revisited,” European History Quarterly 42 (2012). 7 So Hitler in one of his famous table talks, see the entry of 21/22 July 1941, in Adolf Hitler, Monologe im Führer-Hauptquartier 1941–1944: Die Aufzeichnungen Heinrich Heims, ed. Werner Jochmann (Hamburg: Knaus, 1980), 43–44. 8 See, for instance, Mark Mazower, Dark Continent: Europe’s Twentieth Century (London: Allen Lane, 1998).

284  Patrick Bernhard 9 On Mussolini’s claim to save the “white race” from decay, see Ruth Ben-Ghiat, Fascist Modernities: Italy, 1922–1945 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2001), 20. 10 Intriguing G. Bruce Strang, “ ‘Places in the African Sun’: Social Darwinism, Demographics and the Italian Invasion of Ethiopia,” in Collision of Empires: Italy’s Invasion of Ethiopia and its International Impact, ed. G. Bruce Strang (Farnham and Burlington: Ashgate, 2013). 11 Michael R. Ebner, Ordinary Violence in Mussolini’s Italy (Cambridge: CUP, 2011). On the German perception of fascist policing see Patrick Bernhard, “Konzertierte Geg­ nerbekämpfung im Achsenbündnis: Die Polizei im Dritten Reich und im italienischen Faschismus, 1933–1943,” Vierteljahrshefte für Zeitgeschichte 59, no. 2 (2011): 328. 12 Stephan Kuttner, “Das neue italienische Strafgesetzbuch: Seine Entstehung und die wichtigsten Abweichungen vom Vorentwurf 1927,” Zeitschrift für die gesamte Straf­ rechtswissenschaft 51 (1931); Kurt Bunge, Das italienische Strafgesetzbuch vom 19. Oktober 1930 (Berlin and Leipzig: de Gruyter, 1933). 13 Letter of Eugen Fischer to Dr Davenport, Director of the Carnegie Institution of Washington, June 19, 1929, Archive of the Max Planck Society, Berlin (Archiv der MaxPlanck-Gesellschaft, AMPG), Rep. 3, 23, fol. 322. See also one of the most important handbooks for genetics: Erwin Baur, ‎Eugen Fischer, and Fritz Lenz, eds., Menschliche Erblehre und Rassenhygiene, vol. 2, 3rd ed. (Munich: Lehmann, 1932), 414. On Fi­scher see Hans-Walter Schmuhl, The Kaiser Wilhelm Institute for Anthropology, Human Heredity and Eugenics (Dordrecht: Springer, 2008), 116. 14 Pier G. Zunino, L’ideologia del fascismo: Miti, credenze e valori nella stabilizzazione del regime (Bologna: Il Mulino, 1985); Martina Steber and Bernhard Gotto, eds., Visions of Community in Nazi Germany: Social Engineering and Private Lives (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014). 15 Sven Reichardt, Faschistische Kampfbünde: Gewalt und Gemeinschaft im italieni­ schen Squadrismus und in der deutschen SA (Cologne: Boehlau, 2002), 58–59. 16 Hitler: Sämtliche Aufzeichnungen 1905–1924, ed. Eberhard Jäckel and Axel Kuhn (Stuttgart: DVA, 1980), 683 et seqq. Cf. the almost identical speeches Hitler gave in 1927: Hitler: Reden, Schriften, Anordnungen – Februar 1925 bis Januar 1933, vol 2: Vom Weimarer Parteitag bis zur Reichstagswahl Juli 1926  – Mai 1928, part 1: Juli 1926  – Juli 1927, ed. Bärbel Dusik (Munich: Oldenbourg, 1992), 315 and Hitler: Reden, Schriften, Anordnungen – Februar 1925 bis Januar 1933, vol 2: Vom Weimarer Parteitag bis zur Reichstagswahl Juli 1926 – Mai 1928, part 2: August 1927 – Mai 1928, ed. Bärbel Dusik (Munich: Oldenbourg, 1992), 748. 17 See most recently Kilian Bartikowski, Der italienische Antisemitismus im Urteil des Nationalsozialismus 1933–1943 (Berlin: Metropol-Verlag, 2013). 18 Hitler: Reden, Schriften, Anordnungen, vol. 3: Zwischen den Reichstagswahlen Juli 1928 – September 1930, part 2: März 1929 – Dezember 1929, ed. Klaus A. Lankeit (Munich: Oldenbourg, 1994), 31. 19 Der Hitler-Prozess 1924: Wortlaut der Hauptverhandlung vor dem Volksgericht München, part 4: 19.–25. Verhandlungstag, ed. Lothar Gruchmann and Reinhard Weber in collaboration with Otto Gritschneder (Munich: K.G. Saur, 1999), 1574. 20 Hitler: Sämtliche Aufzeichnungen, 1116. 21 Günter Neliba, Wilhelm Frick: Der Legalist des Unrechtsstaates  – Eine politische Biographie (Paderborn: Schöningh, 1992), 45. 22 “Italiens Wehrmacht,” Völkischer Beobachter, September 17, 1927. 23 Alfred Rosenberg, Der Zukunftsweg einer deutschen Außenpolitik (Munich: Eher, 1927), 40. See similar Zeitwende 9, no. 2 (1933): 167 and Wissen und Wehr 15 (1934): 235. 24 Margherita G. Sarfatti, Mussolini: Lebensgeschichte (Leipzig: P. List, 1926), 115. See also Ludwig Bernhard, Das System Mussolini (Berlin: Scherl, 1924), 18. 25 Hitler: Reden, Schriften, Anordnungen, vol. 2, part 2, 827. See his almost identical remarks in a conversation with Italian embassador Cerrutti: Cable of the Italian Embassy in Berlin to the Italian Foreign Ministry, July 6, 1933, Historical Archive of

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39 40 41

42 43

the Italian Foreign Ministry, Rome (Archivio Storico del Ministero degli Affari Esteri, ASMAE), affari politici 1931–1945, Germania, b. 13, fasc. 1. Gottfried Künzlen, Der neue Mensch: Eine Untersuchung zur säkularen Religionsgeschichte der Moderne (Munich: Fink, 1994). Völkischer Beobachter, November 7, 1930. Memo of the Foreign Office, March 14, 1934; and note of von Bülow-Schwante, September 18, 1935, Political Archive of the German Foreign Office, Berlin (Politisches Archiv des Auswärtigen Amts, PA AA), R 100748, fiche 1909. Memo of the Bavarian Envoy to Rome on “Mussolini’s plans” (about 1932), Bavarian Main State Archives, Munich (Bayerisches Hauptstaatsarchiv, BayHStA), MA, 103082. Report of Troilo Salvotti on his trip to Germany, December 31, 1935, Central State Archive, Rome (Archivio centrale dello Stato, ACS), MI, DGPS, Divisione Polizia Politica, fascicoli per materia, b. 172, fasc. 16. Memo No 4348 of the Italian political police, January 4, 1936, ibid. Entry of October 11, 1938, in Claretta Petacci, Mussolini segreto: Diari 1932–1938 (Milan: Rizzoli, 2009) (translated into English by the author). Aristotle A. Kallis, Fascist Ideology: Expansionism in Italy and Germany 1922–1945 (London and New York: Routledge, 2000), 50. Benito Mussolini, Opera Omnia, ed. Edoardo Susmel and Duilio Susmel (Florence: La Fenice, 1966 [reprint of 1st ed., 1959]), vol. 28, 58. Report of Rudolf Frercks on his meeting with Italian racial experts, October 10–19, 1938 in Rome, PA AA, Deutsche Botschaft Rom, 710A. Omer Bartov and Eric D. Weitz, eds., Shatterzone of Empires: Coexistence and Violence in the German, Habsburg, Russian, and Ottoman Borderlands (Indiana University Press, 2013). For this and the following, see Olindo De Napoli, “The Origin of the Racist Laws under Fascism: A Problem of Historiography,” Journal of Modern Italian Studies 17, no. 1 (2012). A similar argument is advanced for the Hungarian, Bulgarian, and Slovak cases by Zoltán Vági, László Csősz, and Gábor Kádár, The Holocaust in Hungary: Evolution of a Genocide (Lanham: AltaMira Press, 2013), 1; Tatjana Tönsmeyer, s.v. “Holocaust in Slovakia,” in Antisemitism: A Historical Encyclopedia of Prejudice and Persecution, ed. Richard S. Levy (Santa Barbara: ABC-CLIO, 2005); James Frusetta, “The Final Solution in Southeastern Europe: Between Nazi Catalysts and Local Motivations,” in The Routledge History of the Holocaust, ed. Jonathan C. Friedman (London: Routledge, 2011). On the importance of politics of racial regeneration in the 1930s in Hungary, Bulgaria, Rumania, and Slovakia, see Christian Promitzer, Sevasti Troumpeta, and Marius Turda, eds., Health, Hygiene, and Eugenics in Southeastern Europe to 1945 (Budapest: Central European University Press, 2011); and Rory Yeomans and Anton Weiss-Wendt, eds., Racial Science in Hitler’s New Europe, 1938–1945 (Lincoln/NE: University of Nebraska Press, 2013). See also Carlo Moos, Ausgrenzung, Internierung, Deportation: Antisemitismus und Gewalt im späten italienischen Faschismus 1938–1945 (Zurich: Chronos, 2004). Joseph Goebbels, Die Tagebücher von Joseph Goebbels: Sämtliche Fragmente, part 1: Aufzeichnungen 1924–1941, vol. 2: 1.1.1931–1931.12.1936, ed. Elke Fröhlich (Munich: K.G. Saur, 1987), 504. See Hermann Graml, “Das Versagen der internationalen Solidarität,” in 1939 – An der Schwelle zum Weltkrieg: Die Entfesselung des Zweiten Weltkriegs und das internatio­ nale System, ed. Klaus Hildebrand, Jürgen Schmädeke and Klaus Zernack (Berlin and New York: de Gruyter, 1990), 254. Mark Mazower, Hitler’s Empire: How the Nazis Ruled Europe (New York: Penguin, 2008). Adolf Hitler, “Denkschrift und Richtlinien über die Führung des Krieges im Westen vom 9.10.1939,” in Dokumente zur Vorgeschichte des Westfeldzuges 1939–1940, ed. H. A. Jacobsen (Göttingen: Musterschmidt, 1956), 4.

286  Patrick Bernhard 44 See Kallis, Fascist Ideology, 38. 45 Unsigned Memorandum (August  1936), in Documents on German Foreign Policy: From the Archives of the German Foreign Ministry, Series C 1933–1937: The Third Reich: First Phase, vol. 5: March  5–October  31, 1936 (Washington, D.C.: United States Government Printing Office, 1966), 853–862. 46 Slightly overemphazising this aspect is Malte König, Kooperation als Machtkampf: Das faschistische Achsenbündnis Berlin-Rom im Krieg 1940/41 (Cologne: SH-Verlag, 2007). 47 Volker Barth, “Internationale Organisationen und Kongresse,” Europäische Geschichte Online (EGO), URL: www.ieg-ego.eu/barthv-2011-de, URN: urn:nbn:de:0159– 2011121203. 48 Bernhard, “Konzertierte Gegnerbekämpfung,” 260. 49 On the military cooperation on the ground that was often much better than previously thought, see Thomas Schlemmer, Invasori, non vittime: La campagna italiana di Russia 1941–1943, 2nd ed. (Rome: Laterza, 2009). 50 Ruth Ben-Ghiat, “A  Lesser Evil? Italian Fascism in/and the Totalitarian Equation,” in The Lesser Evil: Moral Approaches to Genocide Practices, ed. Helmut Dubiel and Gabriel Motzkin (New York: Routledge, 2004), 139. 51 On the attempts to converge the legal frameworks, see Alessandro Somma, I giuristi e l’asse culturale Roma-Berlino: Economia e politica nel diritto fascista e nazio­ nalsocialista (Frankfurt am Main: Klostermann, 2005). On common social policies, see Daniela Liebscher, Freude und Arbeit: Zur internationalen Freizeit- und Sozialpolitik des faschistischen Italien und des NS-Regimes (Cologne: SH-Verlag, 2009). On the exchange of knowledge in the field of settlement policies, colonialism, and urban planning, see Patrick Bernhard, “Borrowing From Mussolini: Nazi Germany’s Colonial Aspirations in the Shadow of Italian Expansionism,” Journal of Imperial and Commonwealth History, 41 (2013) and Patrick Bernhard, “Metropolen auf Achse: Städtebau und Großstadtgesellschaften Roms und Berlins im faschistischen Bündnis 1936–1943,” in Berlin im Nationalsozialismus: Politik und Gesellschaft 1933–1945, ed. Rüdiger Hachtmann, Thomas Schaarschmidt and Winfried Süß (Göttingen: Wallstein, 2011). On the convergences of the legal framework of the Axis occupation system, see Werner Best’s paper “Die deutschen Aufsichtsverwaltungen: Vergleichende Übersicht,” Národní archiv, Prague (National Archives, NA), RG 1300, sig. 109– 104/1054, ka. 58 Srovnání německé správy ve Francii, Belgii, Nizozemí, Norsku, Dánsku a v Protektorátu Čechy a Morava vyhotovené W. Bestem, 1941, 25. 52 Confidential letter of the German Embassy in Rome to the German Foreign Office, February 7, 1940, PA AA, Deutsche Botschaft Rom, 69. 53 For this and the following, see Bernhard, “Konzertierte Gegnerbekämpfung.” 54 Letter of the German Consulate in Milan to the German Embassy in Rome reg. the deportation of undesired Germans, October  15, 1938, PA AA, Deutsche Botschaft Rom, 693c. 55 See the data sheet of the International Criminal Police Commission for the identification of international criminals, Archival holdings of Interpol, Lyon (Archives d’Interpol). See also ACS, MI, DGPS, Divisione Polizia Politica, fascicoli per materia, b. 172, fasc. 3. 56 On the German attempts to control the commission, see letter of Reinhard Heydrichs to Arturo Bocchini, January 30, 1938, ACS, MI, DGPS, Divisione Polizia Politica, fascicoli per materia, b. 172, fasc. 3, and confidential letter of Oskar Dressler to Reichskriminaldirektor Arthur Nebe, May 1938, Yad Vashem Archives, Jerusalem (YV Archives), Record Group 0.105, File Number 1. Cfr. on the difficulties to develop a joint strategy see report of Heydrich on the XIV conference of the ICPC in Bucharest, June 24, 1938, Federal Archives Berlin (Bundesarchiv Berlin, BArch Berlin), R 43/II 907. 57 Report of Reinhard Heydrich on the XIV meeting of ICPC in Bucharest in 1938, Archives of Interpol, Lyon, Series historical documents.

Heralds of a “new order” 287 58 On the persecution of Romani people, see pathbreaking Amedeo Osti Guerrazzi, “Der italienische Faschismus und die ‘Zigeuner’,” Jahrbuch für Antisemitismusforschung 18 (2009). 59 Thomas Huonker, Regula Ludi and Bernhard Schär, Roma, Sinti und Jenische: Schwei­zerische Zigeunerpolitik zur Zeit des Nationalsozialismus (Zurich: Chronos, 2001), 35. 60 See letter of Dr. Schultz, permanent reporter of ICPC, to Norman Kendell, Scotland Yard, May 9, 1936, The National Archives, Kew/London (TNA), PRO, MEPO 3/2047. 61 On the visit of a delegation of Italian Carabinieri to German-occupied Poland, see “Italienische Polizeioffiziere im GG,” Deutschlanddienst, March  27, 1942, also in BArch Berlin, R 57, 942; and on the visit of a German delegation to Italy “Der Besuch in Italien,” Der Deutsche Polizeibeamte 4 (1936): 902–903. 62 Bernhard, “Konzertierte Gegnerbekämpfung,” 247. 63 Memo No. 441­RG 30/492 of the Italian political police, 28 June  1937, ACS, MI, DGPS, Div. AAGGRR, Ufficio rapporti con la Germania, b. 2 (1937), RG 30. 64 Similar Kallis, Fascist Ideology, 139. 65 On the brutal Italian occupation regime, see most recently Amedeo Osti Guerrazzi, The Italian Army in Slovenia: Strategies of Antipartisan Repression, 1941–1943 (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2013). 66 James Burgwyn, Mussolini’s Conquest of Yugoslavia 1941–1943 (New York: Enigma, 2005); Lidia Santarelli, “Violenza taciuta: I crimini degli italiani nelle Grecia occupata,” in Crimini e memorie di guerra: Violenze contro le popolazioni e politiche del ricordo, ed. Luca Baldissara and Paolo Pezzino (Naples: L’Ancora Del Mediterraneo, 2004). 67 Jonathan Steinberg, All or Nothing: The Axis and the Holocaust 1941–1943 (London: Routledge, 1990). 68 Secret report of a German intelligence officer regarding the relations of Jews and Arabs with Italian authorities in Tripoli, February  7, 1942, Federal Archives, Department Military Archives, Freiburg (Bundesarchiv, Abteilung Militärarchiv Freiburg, BArch Abt. MA Freiburg), RH-23, folder 112. I am grateful to Dan Michman for bringing this document to my attention. 69 See MacGregor Knox, “Das faschistische Italien und die ‘Endlösung’, 1942/43,” Vierteljahrshefte für Zeitgeschichte 55, no. 1 (2007), and Hans Woller, Geschichte Italiens im 20. Jahrhundert (Munich: Beck, 2010), 186. 70 Thomas Schlemmer, ed., Die Italiener an der Ostfront 1942/43: Dokumente zu Mussolinis Krieg gegen die Sowjetunion (Munich: Oldenbourg, 2005). 71 For this and the following, see Patrick Bernhard, “Behind the Battle Lines: Italian Atrocities and the Persecution of Arabs, Berbers, and Jews in North Africa during World War II,” Holocaust Genocide Studies 26, no. 3 (2012) and Bernhard, “Konzer­ tierte Gegnerbekämpfung.” 72 Wolfgang Proske, “Zwei Rollen für Erwin Rommel beim Aufmarsch der Wehrmacht in Libyen und Ägypten, 1941–1943,” in Täter Helfer Trittbrettfahrer: NS-Belastete aus dem östlichen Württemberg, ed. Wolfgang Proske (Reutlingen: Der Freiheitsbaum, 2014). 73 Confidential report of the German Consul General in Tripoli, von Walther, for the German Embassy in Rome, October 27, 1942, PA AA, R 100860, Fiche 2213. 74 Götz Aly and Karl Heinz Roth, The Nazi Census: Identification and Control in the Third Reich (Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 2004). 75 Skeptical is Dan Michman, “Die Juden Nordafrikas im Visier der Planer der ‘Endlösung’?” in Die Wannsee-Konferenz am 20. Januar 1942, ed. Norbert Kampe and Peter Klein (Cologne: Böhlau, 2013), 379–397. 76 Fernando Esposito, Mythische Moderne: Aviatik, Faschismus und die Sehnsucht nach Ordnung in Deutschland und Italien (Munich: Oldenbourg, 2011), 315.

288  Patrick Bernhard 77 Exemplary Manfred Funke, “Hitler, Mussolini und die ‘Substanz’ der Achse,” in Nationalsozialistische Diktatur 1933–1945: Eine Bilanz, ed. Karl. Dietrich Bracher, Manfred Funke and Hans-Adolf Jacobsen (Bonn: Bundeszentrale für politische ­Bildung, 1983). 78 Exemplary are Hitler’s remarks on the alleged decadency of many inhabitants of German cities. See entry of January 31, 1942, in Adolf Hitler, Monologe, 244–248. 79 Entries of March 19 and April 10, 1939, in Claretta Petacci, Verso il disastro: Mussolini in guerra – Diari 1939–1940 (Milan: Rizzoli, 2011).

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Index

Abendland 48, 57, 60, 62, 65 Abetz, Otto 78 Abyssinia, Abyssinian 275, 277 academia 1, 3, 5, 7 – 8, 11, 157, 210, 213, 266 academics, academic 5, 155, 180, 209, 212, 264; attraction of Nazi Germany 182; background, careers, merits, migration, paths, positions, qualification 157, 178 – 179, 181, 184, 205, 208, 210; contacts, relations 102, 205, 209, 229; disciplines 259; discourse 230; elite(s) 180, 226; entanglement 5, 157; exchange 5, 176 – 177, 180 – 181, 183 – 185, 206, 229; as government officials and political advisors 35, 113, 157, 180; institutions 8, 102, 230; journals 44; landscape, system, world 12, 208, 266; research as legitimation for certain policies 206 – 208, 230 – 231, 233; taking part in the discourse on Europe 49, 72, 78, 84 – 85, 182; traditions 157; see also scholarship, scholars, scholarly Academy of Sciences in Vienna 205 – 213 Africa, African (territories) 159; as battleground in World War II 143, 261, 281; European colonies in 103, 116, 128, 239; Fascist Italy’s and Nazi Germany’s occupation of 14, 274, 276 – 278; occupation policy in 272, 281; persecution of Jews in 281 – 282; seen as part of Europe 119, 126 African Americans 105 agrarian 2; countries, economies, societies 11, 77, 152, 159, 161, 163, 228, 234; industrialization 156; “overpopulation” 152, 154 – 163; policy 137, 155, 162; products 159; romanticism 234; science and scientists 137, 141, 155, 167n49

agricultural: countries 84; exploitation, periphery servicing Nazi Germany 78, 84, 140 – 141; “mobilization” 138; policy 11, 139 – 141; production 11, 140; products 135, 137; research 11, 137 – 138, 141 – 143; schools and research institutions 140, 145 agriculture 77, 135 – 138, 140 – 141, 144 – 145; collectivization of 62; research in 137, 140; see also agricultural Ahnenerbe (SS) 144, 180 Albania 142, 165n16 Alexander von Humboldt-Stiftung (Alexander von Humboldt Foundation) 3, 178 Allies, Allied (powers) (war enemies of Germany in World War I) 58 Allies, Allied (powers) (war enemies of Germany in World War II) 6, 75, 81, 106, 112, 117, 144, 181, 260 allies (to Germany) 2, 4, 44, 46, 49, 64, 73, 77, 79, 103, 177 – 178, 209, 243, 245, 265; see also Axis (powers) “Americanism” 62 – 63, 65, 94 – 95 Andrašević, Bogumil 162 anti-Bolshevism, anti-Bolshevist, antiBolshevik 6, 8, 31, 127, 261; see also anti-communism, anticommunist anti-communism, anti-communist 59 – 60, 64, 86, 116 – 120, 127, 243, 247, 280 – 281; see also anti-Marxist; communism, communists, communist anti-democratic 95, 116, 127 anti-European 5 – 6, 45, 48, 100, 114; see also un-European anti-Jewish 13 – 14, 259 – 266; see also anti-Semitism, anti-Semites, antiSemitic anti-liberal 6, 95, 116, 127, 278

294 Index anti-Marxist see anti-communism, anti-communist anti-Semitism, anti-Semites, anti-Semitic 7 – 8, 13, 45, 58 – 59, 61 – 62, 84, 86, 98, 122 – 123, 129, 161 – 162, 213, 226, 247, 259 – 261, 263 – 264, 266, 273, 276, 280 – 281 anti-Slavism 161 Antonescu, Ian 49 Arab, Arabs 105, 281 “Aryan” 9, 45, 52n23, 61, 205, 208, 210 Asia, Asian 64, 78, 120, 142; stereotypes about (“Asia” and “Bolshevism”, “Asiatic barbarism”) 6, 62, 73, 241, 272 ASIA (cinema) 192 – 193, 198 assimilation 28, 30, 32, 100 Atatürk, Kemal 273 Atlantic (world) 62, 114, 116, 144, 261 Außenpolitisches Amt der NSDAP (NSDAP office of Foreign Affairs) 4 Ausschuss für Nationalitätenrecht (Committee for Nationalities Law) 31 Austria, Austrians, Austrian 1, 27, 32, 57 – 61, 65, 139, 143, 206 – 207, 210 – 211, 213, 275; Anschluss, annexation of 2, 57, 74, 205 – 206, 215n25, 238; nationalist/völkisch circles and academic experts 4, 9, 28, 32, 34, 205 – 206, 213; see also NSDAP Austria-Hungary see Habsburg (Empire/dynasty) Austrofascism, austrofascist system 59 auswärtige Kulturpolitik see cultural diplomacy Auswärtiges Amt, AA (German Foreign Office/Ministry of Foreign Affairs) 113, 120, 123 – 124, 127, 165n25, 197 – 198, 239, 244 autarky, autarkic 13, 75, 136 – 138, 141, 144 – 145, 239, 246 autonomy, autonomous 3 – 4, 29, 32 – 33, 36, 44, 47, 58, 119, 126, 167n49, 244, 253n89, 282 Axis (powers) 2, 5, 9, 14, 64, 72 – 73, 76 – 77, 80, 84 – 86, 97, 101, 103 – 104, 106, 112, 115 – 116, 139, 156, 189 – 191, 193, 195 – 196, 199, 210, 271 – 272, 275, 277 – 283; see also allies (to Germany) Axmann, Artur 1 Azores 112, 116 – 117 Bachofen von Echt, Adolf 139 Backe, Herbert 137

Backhaus (SS-Sturmbannführer) 246 Balkan countries/states/Peninsula/region, Balkans 36n7, 49, 84, 135, 137 – 138, 142, 144 – 145, 155 – 156, 159, 162 – 163, 163n1, 276, 280 Ballensiefen, Heinz 265 Baltic States, Baltics 11, 179 – 180, 182, 184, 239 Bälz, Erwin Toku 196 – 198 Barth, Johannes 197 – 198 Basque country 80 Bauer, Wilhelm 206 Baur, Erwin 273 Behnke, Heinz 142–143 Behrends, Hermann 31 – 32 Belgium, Belgians, Belgian 3, 64, 79 – 81, 179 – 180, 184, 239 Berber, Friedrich 45 Berbers 99, 105 Best, Werner 33 – 35, 79, 286n51 Bićanić, Rudolf 159, 161, 167n49 Biennale (International Film Festival) 12, 195 – 196 biology, biological 10, 45, 48, 95, 98 – 99, 104 – 105, 135 – 137, 143 – 145, 162, 208, 259, 265, 272 Black Americans 105 blood and soil 135, 234 Bocchini, Arturo 280 Boehm, Max Hildebert 30 – 31, 36n7, 37n8, 37n12, 37n15 “Bolshevism”, “Bolsheviks”, “Bolshevik” 6, 9, 13, 29, 44 – 45, 49 – 50, 60, 62 – 63, 65, 73, 77, 86, 118, 182, 234, 243 – 244, 261, 263, 273, 275, 282; see also anti-Bolshevism, antiBolshevist, anti-Bolshevik; “JudeoBolshevism”, “Jewish-Bolshevik”, “Jewish-Bolshevist” Brandsch, Rudolf 29 Braun, Otto 141 Briand, Aristide 48 Brinkmann, Carl 155 Britain, British see Great Britain, Britain, British, England, English Brittany 80 Brunner, Otto 206 Bulgaria, Bulgarians, Bulgarian: economy 2; German hegemony over 2, 77; political agenda in and foreign policy of 77, 83, 85, 138, 140, 161; relations with Nazi Germany 104, 144, 157, 177 – 178, 260; scientific research in

Index  295 and on 144, 156 – 157, 159, 162, 265; Soviet influence in 83; viewed at in Nazi Germany 46, 183 Burgdörfer, Friedrich 157, 161 Cabral (de) Moncada, Luís 115, 117, 119 Canaris, Wilhelm 103, 116 Cartel of German Academies of Sciences 205, 209 – 210 Castilian 98 Catalonia 80 Catholic nationalism, “National Catholicism”, Catholic national, national Catholic 94, 97, 103 Central Europe, Central European 2, 10, 27 – 29, 35, 59 – 60, 74 – 75, 77 – 78, 82, 154, 156, 159, 161, 206 – 207, 213, 230 – 234, 243 Central European Economic Conference see Mitteleuropäischer Wirtschaftstag Centro Superior de Investigaciones Científicas (Center for Advanced Scientific Research, CSIC) 102 – 103 Charilaos, Epaminontas 147n37 Charles V 95 – 96, 100 – 101 Chimika Lipasmata (chemical company) 140, 143 Churchill, Winston 76 Cinecittà (film studio) 194 clearing (financial system) 240, 245 Clodius, Carl 113, 239 Cold War 128, 271 collaboration, collaborationist 3, 14, 64, 72, 76, 81, 120, 123, 125, 139, 143, 177, 190, 196, 198, 211, 225, 229, 232 – 234, 239, 259, 272, 278 – 282 colonial, colonies, colonists, colonization 161, 274, 277, 281; European colonies outside Europe 10, 82, 93 – 94, 97, 116, 125, 128, 135, 143, 239; exploitation by Nazi Germany 13, 78, 113, 138, 154, 180, 227, 233, 238, 242 – 243, 246 – 247; see also empire, imperial; “Lebensraum” (“living space”) Columbus, Christopher 10, 93 Comitati d’azione per l’Universalità di Roma (CAUR) 4 communism, communists, communist 8, 62, 95, 97, 102, 178, 183, 193, 245, 272 – 279; see also anti-communism, anti-communist Consejo de la Hispanidad (Hispanic Council) 103

conservatism/conservativism, conservatives, conservative 2 – 4, 7 – 8, 10, 48, 73, 78, 80, 84, 94 – 96, 104, 155, 159, 279 – 280 cooperation 11 – 14, 35, 63, 114, 119 – 120, 143, 145, 157, 178, 189 – 191, 194 – 199, 206 – 207, 212, 229, 231, 233 – 234, 239, 241, 248, 260 – 262, 264, 275, 278, 282 Cordeiro Ramos, Gustavo 121 Coudenhove-Kalergi, Richard von 48, 237, 248 Crete (island) 140, 142 – 144, 147n26 Crimean Tatars 181 Croatia, Croats, Croatian 2 – 3, 46, 83, 86n2, 89n56, 104, 155 – 157, 161 – 162, 167n49, 178, 182, 265 cultural diplomacy 3, 11, 136, 143, 177 – 179, 181, 184 – 185, 209 cultural-political see cultural diplomacy Currentul (newspaper) 84 – 85 Czech 34, 268n63 Czechoslovakia, Czechoslovak Republic, Czechoslovak 28, 32, 57, 74, 238 Daitz, Werner 47, 52n32, 75, 113 Darré, Walther 137 “Day of the Race” (Día de la Raza) 93 – 94, 102 – 103, 106 Degrelle, Léon 79 DEGRIGES (Deutsch-griechische Warenausgleichsgesellschaft) 141 (Western) democracies, democrats 6, 33, 272, 278 democracy 84, 99, 127 democratic 28, 62, 83, 85, 119; countries 45, 278; see also anti-democratic Denmark, Danes, Danish 76, 78, 82, 89n46, 104, 155, 179, 239, 260, 265, 279 Deutsche Akademie (German Academy) 3, 136 Deutsche Forschungsgemeinschaft (German Research Society) 137 Deutscher Akademischer Austauschdienst (German Academic Exchange Service, DAAD) 3, 176 – 178, 229 Deutscher Schutzbund für die Grenz- und Auslandsdeutschen (German Defence League for Frontier Germans and Germans Abroad) 29, 36n7 Deutsches Ausland-Institut, Stuttgart (Institute for the Study of Germandom Abroad) 265

296 Index Deutsches Auslandswissenschaftliches Institut (German Institute of Foreign Science) 104, 113 Deutsches Institut für Auslandskunde 113 Deutsche Wissenschaftliche Institute (German Cultural Institutes) 3 – 5, 207 Deutsch-Japanische Gesellschaft (German-Japanese Society) 192, 198 Deutschnationale Volkspartei (German National People’s Party) 7, 29 – 30 Dietmar, Hellmuth 123 – 124 diplomacy, diplomats, diplomatic 2 – 3, 10, 71, 77, 80, 102, 112, 116, 118 – 128, 139, 244 discourse 3 – 4, 11, 97, 99, 103, 105, 113, 116, 153 – 154, 163, 230, 260, 272; on/ about Europe 2, 5, 9, 12, 43 – 44, 46 – 50, 57, 63, 65, 68n34, 114 – 115, 127, 246; of Hispanidad 93 – 94, 97, 99, 101, 105 Dittel, Paul 262 diversity 4, 47, 71, 84, 86 Dnevnik (newspaper) 83 Dobruja (region) 83 Dölger, Franz 139 Donaueuropa (newspaper) 10, 73, 84 Dönitz, Karl 65 Drescher-Kaden, Karl Friedrich 211 Dumba, Konstantin 139 Eastern Europe, Eastern European 9, 13, 27, 59 – 60, 74, 82, 113, 137, 154, 156, 161, 230, 277, 281 Eastern Europe Institute 230 economics 1, 3, 8, 73 – 74, 153, 157, 160, 238 economists, economic experts/elites 11 – 12, 74 – 75, 86, 135, 152, 154 – 163, 226 – 228 economy, economic 45, 59, 62, 141; autonomy, self-sufficiency 44, 119, 136, 138; “backwardness” 152, 154; blocs 78; boundaries 47, 152, 154; “capability” 48; collaboration, entanglement, integration, relations, ties 5, 11, 71, 73 – 74, 78, 81, 84, 86, 94, 139, 155, 158, 228, 231, 233, 239, 241, 248; crisis, instability, “turmoil”, misery, problems 2, 29, 62, 76 – 77, 115, 153; domination, dependence, exploitation, hegemony, imperialism, influence 2, 94, 114, 126, 128, 135 – 136, 138, 140 – 141, 179, 184, 226, 240, 246 – 247, 265; institutions, organizations 145,

234, 240, 246; interests 2, 12, 153, 157 – 158, 160, 163, 229 – 230, 239, 248, 281; order paradigms 12 – 13, 62, 65, 73 – 5, 78, 80 – 1, 84 – 5, 112 – 13, 119, 125 – 8, 136, 145, 153, 155, 163, 178 – 179, 233, 237 – 248; policy 2, 81, 116, 135, 139, 184, 227 – 228, 233, 239, 248; propaganda 73, 76, 231; research 152 – 161, 229 – 230; upswing 189; war 81; see also economists, economic experts/elites; Großwirtschaftsraum; war economy Ehlich, Hans 179 – 180 Eichmann, Adolf 123, 264 Eindeutschung (Germanization) 71, 77, 179 – 184, 233, 238, 243 Einsatzstab Reichsleiter Rosenberg (Reichsleiter Rosenberg Taskforce) 265 elite, elites 10, 12, 35, 72 – 73, 82, 86, 105, 118 – 119, 121, 157, 160, 162 – 163; clubs 8; conservative, traditional, old 7, 48, 178; governing, ruling 83, 158, 160; local, native 10 – 11, 71, 84, 102, 178, 180, 193, 205, 211, 226 – 227, 248; racial 184 empire, imperial 34, 44 – 45, 75, 95 – 101, 104, 116, 277 – 278; see also (Fascist) Italy, Italians, Italian, Italian Fascism; Great Britain, Britain, British, England, English; Greater Germanic Reich, Greater Germanic Empire; Habsburg (Empire/dynasty); imperialism, imperialists, imperial, imperialist, imperialistic; informal empire England, English see Great Britain, Britain, British, England, English Essen, Werner 31 Estado Novo 115, 118 – 119, 128 Estonia 29, 37n8, 180, 183 ethnic, ethnically, ethnicity, ethnos 7 – 8, 28 – 30, 46 – 47, 58, 62, 79, 104, 161, 180, 183, 213, 233; “cleansing”, “ethnic consolidation”, “ethnic conversion”, “ethnic homogenization”, “ethnic transformation” 11, 71, 80, 162 – 163, 166n39, 179 – 180, 207 – 208, 233, 280; minorities 7, 11, 27, 32, 74, 85, 161 – 162, 230 – 232, 276; mixing 97; see also resettlement; settlement; Volksdeutsche (ethnic Germans); Volksgruppen (ethnic/ethnonational groups) ethnocentric see völkisch

Index  297 ethnological research 230, 233 “ethnonational community” see Volksgemeinschaft ethnonational groups’ law see Volksgruppen law (Volksgruppenrecht) ethnonationalist see völkisch ethnopolitics, ethnopolitical, ethnic policies 30 – 31, 33 – 34, 179 europäische Großraumwirtschaft see Großwirtschaftsraum “Europäische Neuordnung” see “New Europe” Europäischer Jugendverband (European Youth Federation) 1, 104 Europäische Schriftsteller-Vereinigung (European Writers’ Union) 5 European culture 1, 13, 46 – 47, 241, 243 European economic bloc see Großwirtschaftsraum European federation, European confederation 113 – 114, 237, 244 European integration 7; after 1945 6; before 1933 48; of countries into the Nazi “New Order” or the German Reich 10, 76, 84, 86, 114, 246; see also economy, economic Europeanism 100, 127 Europeanization 266 European Nationalities’ Congress 28, 32 European Writers’ Union see Europäische Schriftsteller-Vereinigung European Youth Federation see Europäischer Jugendverband expansion, expansionism, expansionist foreign policy 2, 12, 14, 33, 48, 59 – 60, 65, 73, 79, 114, 120, 135 – 136, 138, 226 – 227, 229, 233, 245, 271 – 272, 274, 276 – 277 Falange, Falangists, Falangism 10, 93, 95 – 106 Fanck, Arnold 191 fascism, fascists, fascist 2 – 4, 6 – 8, 10 – 11, 14, 48 – 50, 58, 64, 73, 78 – 80, 84, 96 – 98, 101, 103, 106, 116, 127 – 128, 178, 181 – 182, 189, 192, 195, 213, 271 – 283; see also Falange, Falangists, Falangism Fascist Italy, Italian Fascists see (Fascist) Italy, Italians, Italian, Italian Fascism Ferro, António 120 – 121 “Festivity of the Race” see “Day of the Race”

Finland, Finns, Finnish 36n7, 49, 77 – 78, 104, 239 First World War 27, 46, 58, 72 – 74, 82, 135, 139, 153, 161 – 162, 196 – 197, 230 – 234, 272, 278; see also World War I Fischer, Eugen 273 Flanders, Flemish 79 – 80, 104, 181 Fleck, Ludwik 163 Fleischhauer, Ulrich 260 Foerster, Richard 197 foreign cultural policy see cultural diplomacy foreign students 11, 176 – 177, 180 – 181, 183 Formosis, A. 139 France, French 3, 84, 143, 160, 193, 260, 265, 277, 281; attitude towards German occupation 81 – 82; collaboration with Nazi Germany 3, 64, 72, 78, 263; fall of, German defeat of, German victory over 45, 73, 76, 116, 237, 246; invasion in, occupation of 82; place in the “New Order” 78 – 80, 120, 184, 276; refugees in 72; seen and depicted as an enemy in Nazi Germany and Fascist Italy 44, 47, 72 – 73, 84, 136, 275; Soviet influence in 119 Franco, Francisco 97, 102 – 103, 106 Franco’s dictatorship, Francoism, Francoist, Francoist Spain, Franco regime 95, 97 – 98, 100 – 106 Frangeš, Otto 155 – 157, 159 – 160, 162, 169n80 Frank, Hans 31, 244 Freisleben, Rudolf 143 Frente de Juventudes (Youth Front) (Falange) 104 Frick, Wilhelm 274 Frohwein, Hans 114, 120 Fundação Nacional para a Alegria no Trabalho (National Foundation for Joy at Work, FNAT) 121 Funk, Walther 239 Generalgouvernement (General Government) 32, 35, 39n37, 182 Generalplan Ost (General Plan for the East) 137, 162, 180 Generalplan West 79 geopolitics, geopolitical 11, 34, 62, 75, 116, 124, 128, 135 – 136, 152, 157, 160, 178

298 Index German Academy see Deutsche Akademie German-Bulgarian Institute for Agriculture 142, 145 German-Greek Institute for Biology 143, 145 German-Greek Society 139 Germanic 6, 12, 33, 46, 52n23, 61, 64, 79, 99 – 100, 120, 179 – 182, 184, 211, 242; see also Greater Germanic Reich, Greater Germanic Empire Germanisches Begabtenwerk (Germanic Organization for Gifted Students) 181 Germanization see Eindeutschung German-Japanese Society see DeutschJapanische Gesellschaft German Reich Association of German Academies 210 – 211 German Research Council see Reichsforschungsrat German Research Society see Deutsche Forschungsgemeinschaft “German science” 207, 209, 211, 213 Gestapo 102, 275, 280 Giménez Caballero, Ernesto 96, 100 Goebbels, Joseph 1, 6, 12, 44, 46, 76, 113, 120, 189, 192, 194 – 195, 197, 243 – 244, 248, 261, 263, 277 Goecker, Fred 141 Göring, Hermann 239 – 242 Gotzamanis, Sotirios 141 Grau, Wilhelm 261 Gravelli, Asverso 4 Great Britain, Britain, British, England, English 6, 77, 80 – 82, 84, 112, 116 – 117, 123, 143, 156, 160, 163, 193 – 194, 277 – 278, 281; foreign political/ economic relations of 118, 137; language 7, 43, 152, 157, 260; in Nazi plans for Europe 80, 265; political/ economic interests 2, 74, 116; seen and depicted as an enemy in Nazi Germany and Fascist Italy 1, 44 – 45, 73 – 74, 76, 137, 263, 275; viewed at in other countries (besides Germany) 81 – 82, 116, 125, 157 Greater Economic Area see Großwirtschaftsraum Greater Germanic Reich, Greater Germanic Empire 30, 35, 57, 65, 79, 184, 247 Greater German Reich 57, 60, 63 – 65, 68n39, 206 – 207

Greece, Greek 3, 5, 11, 83, 86n2, 135, 137 – 145, 162, 164n16, 170n90, 178 – 179, 227 – 228, 276, 280 Greek-German Society 139 Großraum see Großwirtschaftsraum Großraumpolitik see Großwirtschaftsraum Großraumwirtschaft see Großwirtschaftsraum Gross, Hermann 156 – 157, 228 – 229 Großwirtschaftsraum (Greater Economic Area) 6, 12, 47, 74 – 75, 86, 113, 128, 155 – 156, 158, 178, 228, 231 – 234, 239 – 241, 245 Guglielmotti, Umberto 85 Habsburg (Empire/dynasty) 58 – 60, 230 Hasselblatt, Werner 31 – 32, 35 – 36 Hassell, Ulrich von 193 – 194, 227 Haushofer, Karl 135 – 136, 145 Henlein, Konrad 28 Hervay, Karl von 139 Hess, Rudolf 136 Hess, Victor F. 208 Heydrich, Reinhard 242, 279, 281 High Command of the German Army see Oberkommando der Wehrmacht Himmler, Heinrich 49, 79, 103, 142, 144, 180, 183, 245, 280 Hirsch, Hans 206 “Hispanic race” (Raza de la Hispanidad) 10, 93, 98 – 99, 104 – 105 Hispanidad 10, 93, 95, 97 – 101, 103 – 106 Hispanismo 94 – 95, 105 Hitler, Adolf 2, 44 – 47, 49, 52n32, 57, 63, 65, 71, 75 – 76, 78 – 79, 82 – 84, 96, 113 – 114, 117, 120, 122, 135 – 136, 184, 197 – 198, 207 – 208, 212, 225 – 227, 241, 243, 261 – 262, 265, 271 – 280, 282 – 283 Hitlerjugend (Hitler Youth, HJ) 1, 14, 121 Hlinka Party 83 Höhn, Reinhard 33, 113 Höllberg (German consul in Lisbon) 123 Hollmann, Anton 155, 165n25 Holocaust 62, 129, 271, 282 – 283 Hoyningen-Huene, Oswald von 117 Hugelmann, Karl Gottfried 34 humanitarian 123 – 124, 230, 280 humanities 12, 178 – 179, 205 – 206, 211, 213 Hungary, Hungarians, Hungarian: discourse on the “New Europe” and public opinion in 10, 73, 78, 83, 85; German hegemony over and occupation

Index  299 of 2; minorities in other countries 85, 161 – 162; in Nazi German and Fascist Italian plans 275; as part of Southeastern Europe 164n16; regional policy and conflicts 77, 83 – 85, 162; relations with Germany 4, 84, 104, 144, 177, 260, 263; research on 265; right-wing groups and fascist movement 3, 7 Hunke, Heinrich 127 IG Farben 156 Ilgner, Max 227 imperialism, imperialists, imperial, imperialist, imperialistic 10, 14, 33, 59, 73, 75, 94 – 99, 101, 113 – 114, 120, 128, 136, 179, 184, 205 – 206, 211 – 212, 233 – 234, 248, 272, 274, 276 – 277 independence, independent 2, 4, 10, 58, 78 – 81, 115, 120, 126, 136, 144, 155, 157, 228, 233, 237, 241, 266, 277, 281 Indigenous Americans, Indigenous peoples 94, 97, 105, 144 – 145; see also Native Americans Indonesia 64 industrialization 11, 154, 158 – 159, 163, 232 informal empire 2, 135, 179 Institut für Auswärtige Politik (University of Hamburg) 113 Institut für Deutsche Ostarbeit (Institute for German Work in the East) 260 Institut für Mittel- und Südosteuropäische Wirtschaftsforschung (Institute for Central and Southeast European Economic Research) 12, 165n18, 230 Institut für Weltwirtschaft (Institute for the World Economy), Kiel 104, 156 – 157, 265 Instituto Bernardino de Sahagún of Anthropology and Ethnology 103 Instituto de Estudios Políticos (Institute of Political Studies, IEP) 103 – 104 Institut zur Erforschung der Judenfrage (Institute for Research on the Jewish Question) 13, 260 – 265 Interlandi, Telesio 276 International Criminal Police Commission 279 Internationale Filmkammer (International Film Chamber) 12, 191, 194 – 196, 198 – 199 International Film Chamber see Internationale Filmkammer

internationalism 4, 28, 177, 273 interwar period 4, 58, 154 – 155, 161, 213, 233 – 234, 237, 273 Ipsen, Gunther 161 Ireland 80, 146n13 Itami, Mansaku 191 (Fascist) Italy, Italians, Italian, Italian Fascism 5, 100, 161; as part of the “New Europe” and role model to other countries besides Germany 4 – 5, 7, 10, 83 – 84, 86, 99 – 102, 104, 116, 199, 272, 277, 282; discourse on/about Europe 2, 85 – 86, 4 – 5, 271, 275; economic independence 78; expansionist foreign policy and occupation policy 2, 14, 77 – 78, 138 – 139, 141, 271, 274, 276 – 277, 280 – 281; film propaganda 190; in comparison with Nazi Germany 271; influence on/influenced by and cooperation with Nazi Germany 2, 5, 12 – 14, 104, 189 – 199, 271 – 283; racial and anti-Semitic policy 265, 276 – 277, 280 – 281; Soviet influence on 119 Jagwitz, Eberhard von 127 Janko, Sepp 161 Japan, Japanese 2, 5, 12, 64, 102, 189 – 193, 195 – 198 Jew, Jews, Jewish, “Jewry”: and democracy 83; exclusion of (or plans for exclusion of) from institutions, national communities and the Nazi “New Europe” 1, 8 – 9, 45 – 46, 59, 61, 100, 105, 162, 208, 210, 229, 259, 261 – 263, 273; as objects of state policies and propaganda campaigns 10, 30, 44 – 46, 105, 122, 160, 265, 276; perceived as destroyers of culture 1, 45 – 46, 208; persecution of 1, 3, 13 – 14, 62, 121 – 124, 265, 276; refugees 116, 123 – 124, 128 – 129, 279; research on 13, 259 – 266, 279 – 281; see also antiJewish; anti-Semitism, anti-Semites, anti-Semitic; Holocaust; “JudeoBolshevism”, “Jewish-Bolshevik”, “Jewish-Bolshevist”; “plutocracy”, “plutocrats”, “plutocratic” “Jewish problem”, “Jewish question” 13, 30, 100, 122 – 124, 129, 162, 259 – 265, 279 “Judeo-Bolshevism”, “Jewish-Bolshevik”, “Jewish-Bolshevist” 9, 14, 44 – 45, 62, 241, 272; see also anti-Bolshevism,

300 Index anti-Bolshevist, anti-Bolshevik; “Bolshevism”, “Bolsheviks”, “Bolshevik” Junta de Relationes Culturales (Board of Cultural Relations) 102 Juntas de Ofensiva Nacionalsindicalistas (National-Syndicalist Committees of Attack, J.O.N.S.) 96 Kaiser Wilhelm Institute for Biology 143, 145 Kaiser Wilhelm Institute for Brain Research 142 Kaiser Wilhelm Institute for Breeding Research 137, 142 Kaiser Wilhelm Institute for Research on Cultivated Plants 142 Kaiser-Wilhelm-Gesellschaft (Kaiser Wilhelm Society) 137, 144 – 145 Kanellopoulos, Aggelos 140, 147n37 Kanellopoulos, Nikolaos 140, 147n37 Kehrl, Hans 240, 245 Kenner, Hedwig von 139 Klauss, Herbert 33 Klemperer, Victor 43 Knoll, Fritz 207 Koch, Erich 244 Kopač, Đuro 161 Körner, Hellmut 245 Koshirô, Matsumoto 196 Kosovo 162 Kraft durch Freude 121 Krebs, Hans 237 Krümmer, Ewald 127 Laín Entralgo, Pedro 97, 100 Latin America, Latin countries 10, 93 – 97, 99, 101 – 103, 105, 120, 168n57 Latin American Cultural Association 103 Latvia, Latvian 33, 180 Laval, Pierre 49 League of Nations 27 – 28, 30, 275 “Lebensraum” (“living space”) 9, 32, 34, 46, 59 – 60, 63, 65 – 66, 75, 128, 136, 138, 144 – 145, 161, 184, 227 – 228, 234, 266 Ledesma Ramos, Ramiro 96 Legião Portuguesa (Portuguese Legion, LP) 118, 121 Lenz, Fritz 273 Leon, Gheorghe N. 160, 168n63 Leone, Eduardo Metzner 117 Libya 181 Liga Apărării Naţional-Creştine (National Christian Defense League) 7 Lingua Tertii Imperii (LTI) 43, 49

List, Friedrich 75, 159 Lithuania, Lithuanian 180 Loesch, Karl Christian von 28, 31, 33 Logothetopoulos, Konstantinos 141 López Ibor, Juan José 99 Lorković, Mladen 178 L’Unione Cinematografica Educativa (LUCE) 190 – 191 Luther, Martin 123, 127 Luxembourg 79, 81, 239 Macedonia (region) 85, 138 – 140, 162 Mackensen, Lutz 184 Madeira 116 Madgearu, Virgil 159 Maelicke, Alfred 162 Maeztu, Ramiro de 95, 105 Magyar Nemzeti Függetlenségi Párt (Hungarian National Independence Party) 7 Manchukuo 192 – 193, 198 Manoilescu, Mihail 156 – 157, 159, 161, 166n39 Manuilǎ, Sabin 162, 170n86 Maravall, José Antonio 100 – 101 Masleša, Veselin 165n17 Massow, Ewald von 176 – 177, 229 Matteotti, Giacomo 275 Maura, Antonio 94 Melzer, Karl 195 Menéndez y Palayo, Marcelino 94 – 95 Merkl, Adolf Julius 32 Metaxas, Ioannis 140 Meyer, Konrad 137, 144 Ministry for the Occupied Eastern Territories see Reichsministerium für die besetzten Ostgebiete Mirković, Nikola 159, 168n54 Mitteleuropa 6, 74, 238, 246, 248; see also Central Europe, Central European Mitteleuropäischer Wirtschaftstag (Central European Economic Conference, MWT) 6, 12, 178, 225 – 234 Mocidade Portuguesa (Youth Legion, MP) 121 modernity 7, 115, 272 modernization 7, 169n66, 232 Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact 190, 247 Monaco, Eitel 196 Monroe Doctrine 74 – 75 morale, morality, moral, morally 59 – 60, 63, 76, 80, 82, 95 – 96, 98 – 101, 112, 115, 117, 213, 262, 272 Moravia 32 – 33, 35, 58, 60, 74, 238 Morsbach, Adolf 177, 185n10

Index  301 Mosley, Oswald 4 Müller, Karl Alexander von 264 Mussert, Anton Adriaan 49, 79 Mussolini, Benito 2, 4, 14, 49, 78, 117, 119, 121, 190, 197, 271 – 277, 280, 282 – 283 Nationaal-Socialistische Beweging (NSB) 49, 64, 79 nationalism, nationalists, nationalist 3 – 4, 8 – 10, 13, 58 – 59, 73 – 74, 79, 84, 95, 97, 101, 104 – 105, 116, 121, 127, 135, 177, 182, 191, 206, 213, 259, 273, 275, 278 – 279; see also Catholic nationalism, “National Catholicism”, Catholic national, national Catholic; (new) nationalist Europe, (new) nationalist order; völkisch National Socialist party see NSDAP Native Americans 105; see also Indigenous Americans, Indigenous peoples Naumann, Friedrich 232 Nazi Party see NSDAP Netherlands (Low Countries), Dutch 3, 9, 49, 57, 61 – 65, 72, 79 – 80, 82, 104, 179 – 181, 239, 260 Neubacher, Hermann 141 neutrality 80, 106, 116 – 118, 192 Neuwirth, Hans 28 Nevros, Konstantinos 143 “New Europe” 1, 6, 9 – 10, 12 – 13, 33, 43, 45 – 46, 48 – 50, 63, 71, 73 – 74, 78 – 80, 83 – 85, 100, 113, 119, 126, 138, 145, 176, 178 – 182, 184 – 185, 196, 205, 211 – 213, 237 – 239, 241, 243, 246 “new European order” 2, 6, 64, 71 – 73, 80, 82, 84, 86, 100, 104, 112, 115, 118, 120, 124, 127 – 129, 176 – 177, 182 – 184, 196, 199, 210, 237, 244, 283 (new) nationalist Europe, (new) nationalist order 1, 6 – 8, 10 – 11 “New Order”, new order 10 – 12, 27, 33, 35, 43, 47, 57, 60 – 62, 65, 71 – 73, 75 – 76, 78 – 79, 83 – 85, 93, 99 – 100, 103 – 104, 106, 112 – 113, 115, 118 – 121, 123 – 126, 128, 145, 237 – 238, 240 – 241, 243 – 244, 246 – 248, 261, 271 – 272, 278, 282 Niethammer, Gunther 143 Noack, Hermann 44 Normandy 181 North America 35, 62, 76; see also United States (of America), USA, (US-) Americans, US, (US-)American Northern Europe 11, 156, 241 Northwestern Europe 11, 177, 179

Norway, Norwegian 3, 50n1, 82, 104, 179 – 181, 183, 239, 260, 279 NSDAP 4, 31, 66, 71, 101, 121, 127, 135, 139 – 140, 183, 207 – 208, 210, 212 – 213, 225 – 226, 229, 245, 247, 273 – 274; Austrian 58 NS-Studentenbund (Nazi Student League) 176 Nuovo Ordine 271 Oberkommando der Wehrmacht (High Command of the German Army) 142 Oberländer, Theodor 162, 170n82, 242 occupation, occupying 27, 33, 35 – 36, 64, 112, 181, 280; of regions in Africa 278, 281; of regions in Central Europe 35; of regions in East Europe 9, 13, 35, 57, 65 – 66, 74; of regions in Northern Europe 78; of regions in Western Europe 9, 57, 64 – 66, 71; policy and strategy 60 – 61, 71, 80, 82, 141, 183, 227 – 229, 237, 242 – 244, 246 – 247, 261, 272, 280 – 281; reaction to 72 – 73, 80 – 82; restricted autonomy under 3, 61, 63; see also collaboration, collaborationist occupied 60, 63, 65, 71, 100, 104, 123 – 124, 137, 209, 240 – 241, 243 – 246, 265, 280 – 281; Europe 2, 34, 260; by Japan 192; regions in Africa 276; regions in East Europe and the Soviet Union 3, 11, 113, 142, 144, 179, 238, 241 – 242; regions in Northern Europe 11, 179 – 180; regions in Southeastern Europe 138, 142, 178 – 179, 228, 233; regions in Western Europe 11, 61, 64, 80, 179 – 180 Oikonomidis, Leonteios 147n37 Operation Barbarossa 116, 123, 182, 242, 247 Ott, Eugen 198 “overpopulation” 11, 135, 152 – 163 Paechter, Heinz 43 pan-Americanism, pan-American 94 – 95; see also “Americanism” pan-Europeanism, pan-European 1, 57, 178, 190, 262 pan-Germanic 33 pan-Germanism, pan-German 205 – 206, 213 Paris Peace Conference treaties see Versailles (Treaty of) Partito Nazionale Fascista 4 Paulus, Friedrich 243 Pavelić, Ante 156

302 Index peace treaties of Versailles see Versailles (Treaty of) Peloponnese 140, 142 – 144 persecution 112, 121, 128, 272, 274, 278 – 279, 287n58; of Jews 67n21, 122 – 123, 280 – 281 Pester Lloyd (newpaper) 78 Petacci, Clara 276 Peters, Wolfgang 85 Petrocochinos, Themistocles 139 Pflüger, Hermann 115 Philipp II 96 Philippines 93 Pistor, Erich 139 “plutocracy”, “plutocrats”, “plutocratic” 6, 9, 44 – 45, 72, 74 – 77, 84 – 85, 118, 182, 261 Poland, Poles, Polish 182, 244, 265, 287n61; demographic development in 156; German invasion of, occupation of, subjugation of 3, 9, 32, 34, 39n37, 60 – 61, 65, 82, 130n25, 182; “Germanization” in 238; German occupation authorities in 57, 61; relations with (pre-war period) 5; resistance to offers for cooperation with Nazi Germany 46; seen and treated as “nonEuropeans” by Nazi Germany 9, 46, 61 Portugal, Portuguese 10, 77, 96, 100, 102, 195, 112 – 129, 264 Porunca Vremii (newspaper) 84 Praschniker, Camillo 139 Primo de Rivera, José Antonio 96, 99, 102 Primo de Rivera, Miguel 94 Primo de Rivera, Pilar 96 propaganda, propagandistic 2, 10, 14, 30, 33, 61 – 62, 73, 82, 101, 115, 117, 121, 176, 183, 189 – 190, 193, 209, 212, 242, 259, 261 – 266; use of the term and the concept of “Europe” as 6, 10, 49, 65, 68n34, 71 – 73, 76 – 77, 80 – 82, 113 – 114, 120, 128, 181, 184 – 185, 237, 247, 282 Propaganda Ministry see Reichsministerium für Volksaufklärung und Propaganda Protectorate of Bohemia and Moravia 32 – 33, 35, 60, 238 public opinion 29, 80, 82 – 84, 122, 129 Puerto Rico 93 PVDE (Portuguese political police) 124 Quirinetta (cinema) 192 – 194, 198 Quisling, Vidkun 4, 43, 82

race, racial, racially: “Aryan”, “Germanic”, “Indo-Germanic”, kinship, “white” 9, 45 – 46, 52n23, 61, 65, 273, 284n9; cleansing, “purification”, “reordering” 79, 102, 272; concept, definition, ideas, ideology, theory, worldview 10, 13, 46 – 47, 64, 98 – 99, 104 – 105, 126, 135, 181 – 182, 206, 247, 276, 280; definition of nationhood or Volk membership 58; “desent” as a synonym for 31; dissent over 4, 46, 79, 104; elite 184; “enemies” 14, 45 – 46, 208, 272, 276; experts, research, researchers 45, 182, 208, 259, 276; groups 63, 79; hierarchy 48, 105, 135, 181, 183, 185, 238, 241, 247, 273; Hispanic, Spanish 10, 93 – 95, 98 – 99, 103 – 105; legislation 32, 208, 273, 276; “mixing” 46, 62, 98; plans for a “New Europe” defined by, “pure Europe”, reshaping of Europe 12, 45 – 46, 50, 57, 60 – 61, 64, 71, 75 – 76, 79, 86, 114, 128, 206, 248, 276, 282; policy 1, 8, 76, 100, 103, 179 – 180, 184, 205, 213, 277 – 278; segregation 28, 277; underlining the importance of 44, 75, 208 racism, racist 14, 50, 57, 59, 75, 79, 93, 97 – 99, 105, 152, 160 – 161, 179, 181 – 184, 226, 244, 247, 271 – 272, 275 – 279, 281 – 282 Raschhofer, Hermann 35 Rassepolitisches Amt der NSDAP (NSDAP Office of Racial Policy) 183, 264 Ratzel, Friedrich 135 Rauter, Hanns Albin 49 Rechinger, Karl Heinz 142 Reconquista 99, 105 Red Army 212, 242, 245 Reichenau, Walter von 242 Reich Press Office 1, 44 Reichsarbeitsgemeinschaft für Raumforschung 113 Reichsfilmkammer (Reich Film Chamber, RFK) 192 – 193 Reichsforschungsrat (German Research Council) 137, 142 Reichsinstitut für Geschichte des neuen Deutschlands (Reich Institute for the History of the New Germany) 13, 206, 260, 264 – 265 Reichskommissariat für die Festigung des deutschen Volkstums (National Commissariate for the Consolidation of German Volkstum, RKFDV) 31, 233

Index  303 Reichskommissariat Ostland 31, 179 Reichskulturkammer (Reich Chamber of Culture, RKK) 189 Reichsministerium für die besetzten Ostgebiete (Reich Ministry for the Occupied Eastern Territories) 180 – 181, 241 Reichsministerium für Volksaufklärung und Propaganda (Reich Ministry of Public Enlightenment and Propaganda, RMVP) 1, 14, 31, 104, 189, 192, 261 – 263, 265 Reichssicherheitshauptamt (Reich Security Main Office, RSHA) 33, 123 – 124, 179 – 180, 262, 264 – 265, 269n34 Reichssippenamt (Kinship Office) 266 Reichsstelle für Raumordnung 113 Reichswirtschaftsministerium (German Ministry of Economic Affairs) 239 Reithinger, Anton 113, 156 – 157, 166n27 Renthe-Fink, Cécil von 244 repression 81, 105, 126, 208, 278, 281 resettlement 71, 135, 142, 152, 162 – 163, 233, 238; see also “ethnic cleansing”; settlement resistance movement against Nazi Germany 5 – 6, 72, 80 – 81, 138, 144, 226, 247 Ribbentrop, Joachim von 45, 49, 113, 176, 244, 263 Riccardi, Raffaello 78 Ridruejo, Dionisio 98 Riecke, Hans-Joachim 244 Rischka, Kurt von 140 Ritter, Karl 239 Rodríguez-San Pedro Díaz-Argüelles, Faustino 94 Roma 8, 13 – 14, 279; see also Sinti Romania, Romanians, Romanian 7, 77, 84 – 85, 89n50, 104, 156 – 157, 159 – 162, 164n16, 166n27, 166n39, 168n50, 170n86, 177, 179, 182, 260, 265 Rosenberg, Alfred 4, 6, 13 – 14, 47, 181, 241 – 242, 247, 253n89, 260 – 265, 274 Rothmaler, Werner 143 – 144 Rumpf, Harald 233 Russia, “Russia”, Russian, “Russian” 60, 85, 118 – 119, 142, 154, 161, 239, 272; see also Soviet Union, Soviet citizens, Soviet Rust, Bernhard 209 – 211 Ryti, Risto 78

Saint-Germain (Treaty of) 58 Saktouris, Antonios A. 139 Salazar, António de Oliveira 10, 77, 112, 115 – 129 Salvotti, Troilo 275 Sarfatti, Margherita G. 274 Scandinavia 60, 72, 79 Schartau, Otto 143 Scheel, Gustav Adolf 176 Scheibe, Arnold 142 Schellenberg, Walter 116 Schickert, Klaus 263 – 266 Schiemann, Paul 33 Schirach, Baldur von 1, 14, 46 Schlotterer, Gustav 240 Schmitt, Carl 33 – 34, 74 – 75, 104, 113, 267n3 scholarship, scholars, scholarly 3, 9, 11 – 13, 27 – 31, 33 – 36, 152, 156 – 157, 159 – 161, 163, 166n38, 179, 189 – 191, 208, 259 – 260, 262 – 266, 271 – 272, 278; see also academia; academics, academic scholarships 11 – 12, 177 – 184 Schroeder, Emil 124 Schuschnigg, Kurt 60 science, sciences, scientists, scientific 1, 5, 7 – 8, 11, 27 – 28, 50, 79, 103 – 104, 113, 135 – 138, 141 – 145, 153 – 155, 157 – 158, 160, 163, 179, 181 – 182, 205 – 213, 230, 232 – 233, 259, 264, 273 Scotland 80 Sección Femenina (Women’s Section) (Falange) 104 self-determination 29, 65, 228 self-sufficiency, self-sufficient 74 – 75, 119, 135 – 136, 138, 143 – 145; see also autarky, autarkic Selys Longchamps (Baron de) 211 Seraphim, Hans-Jürgen 154 – 155, 165n18, 168n66 Seraphim, Peter-Heinz 162, 169n81 Serbia, Serbians, Serbian 3, 159, 161, 178, 227 – 228 Serrano Suñer, Ramón 77, 102 – 103 settlement (of ethnic groups) 28, 135, 137, 162, 164n14, 242 – 243, 245; see also “ethnic cleansing”; resettlement Seyss-Inquart, Arthur 9, 57 – 66 Seyss-Inquart, Emil 58 Sicherheitsdienst (Security Service, SD) 31, 33 – 34, 81, 126 – 127, 183 – 184, 263, 265, 269n34, 281 Silva Dias, José Luís da 122

304 Index Sinti 13 – 14, 279; see also Roma Six, Franz Alfred 262, 265 Slavs, Slavic 46, 52n23, 58, 62, 120, 135, 161, 232, 234 Slovak (newspaper) 83 Slovakia, Slovaks, Slovak, Slovakian 2, 4, 46, 77, 83, 89n56, 104, 178, 182, 265, 285n38 Slowo (newspaper) 83 social cleansing 14, 272 Società nazionale 273 solidarity, solidaristic 118 – 119, 161, 189, 237, 244, 247 Southeast Europe, Southeastern Europe, Southeast European, Southeastern European 2, 5, 10 – 13, 46, 59 – 60, 75, 77, 83, 85, 135, 138, 144, 152 – 163, 177 – 179, 181, 184, 226 – 234, 239, 264 sovereignty 10, 74 – 75, 79, 86, 120, 126 Soviet Union, Soviet citizens, Soviet 1, 3, 13, 44, 49 – 50, 62, 78, 82 – 85, 118 – 119, 123, 138, 142, 144, 209, 237 – 238, 240 – 248, 261, 263, 277; see also Russia, “Russia”, Russian, “Russian” Spain, Spaniards, Spanish 2, 10, 49, 77, 83, 93 – 106, 116, 118, 124, 144, 264 – 265 Spanish Civil War 2, 93, 95 – 98, 101 – 102, 105, 117 – 118 Späth, Ernst 209 spazio vitale 78 Speer, Albert 245 Spielhofer, Hans 189 Srbik, Heinrich von 205 – 213 SS (Schutzstaffel) 6, 31, 33 – 34, 49, 63, 71, 76, 79 – 80, 103, 142 – 143, 176, 179 – 182, 229, 233, 246, 263 – 264, 280 – 281 SS-Ahnenerbe see Ahnenerbe (SS) Stalin, Josef W. 62 Stalingrad (battle of/German defeat at) 13, 44, 63, 65, 68n34, 212, 237, 243, 248, 261 Stier, Günter 31 Stojanov, Stojan 159, 162 Stratigos, Georgios 139 Streicher, Julius 263 Stroux, Johannes 209, 211 Stubbe, Hans 142 – 143 Stuckart, Wilhelm 34, 75, 79 Sudetenland 2, 32, 74, 276 Südosteuropa-Gesellschaft (Southeast Europe Society, SOEG) 226

Südost-Institut (Southeast Institute) 230 – 233 Surányi-Unger, Theo 84 Sweden, Swedes, Swedish 78, 114, 123 – 124, 239, 264 – 265, 279 Switzerland 36n7, 114, 182, 264 – 265 Taubert, Eberhard 242, 244 Thadden, Eberhard von 265 Thrace (region) 85, 138, 140 Tovar, Antonio 98, 100 Tovar de Lemos, Pedro 10, 112, 118 – 129 Transylvania 84, 162, 170n88 Treaty of Saint-Germain see SaintGermain (Treaty of) Treaty of Versailles see Versailles (Treaty of) Trenker, Luis 191, 194 Tribuna, La (newspaper) 85 Tsolakoglou, Georgios 139, 141, 147n26 Turkey, Turks, Turkish 60, 147n28, 162, 165n16, 264 – 265, 273, 275 Ukraine, Ukrainians, Ukrainian 13, 182 – 184, 242 – 246, 253n89 “Umvolkung” (“ethnic conversion/ transformation”) 179 – 180, 233; see also Eindeutschung (Germanization) un-European 5; see also anti-European União Nacional (National Union, UN) 121 Union Académique Internationale 12, 209, 211 – 212 Unión Ibero-Americana (Ibero-American Union) 94 United Kingdom see Great Britain, Britain, British, England, English United States (of America), USA, (US-) Americans, US, (US-)American 1, 12, 43, 45, 62, 74 – 75, 82, 103, 117, 157, 168n54, 190 – 191, 193 – 195, 263, 265, 278, 281; see also “Americanism” Ustaša (Ustasha) 3, 46, 162, 178 Vahlen, Karl Theodor 210 – 211 Vajta, Franz 84 Valjavec, Fritz 233 Vallejo Nájera, Antonio 98 – 99, 102 Vavilov, Nikolai I. 142 Veiter, Theodor 32 Verband der deutschen Volksgruppen in Europa (Association of German Ethnic Groups in Europe) 29, 31, 37n16 Versailles (Treaty of) 27, 34, 47, 58 – 59, 65, 74, 213, 238, 277

Index  305 Vichy-France see France, French Vlaams Nationaal Verbond (VNV) 79 Volk (people), Völker (peoples) 9, 11 – 12, 27 – 36, 44 – 48, 58 – 65, 79, 82 – 83, 85, 93 – 94, 96 – 101, 103, 105, 114, 123, 126, 135 – 138, 153, 159 – 161, 180 – 181, 184, 192, 196, 206 – 208, 210, 212 – 213, 231, 237 – 238, 241, 245 – 246, 259, 262, 265, 271 – 272, 274 – 277, 283 Völkerfamilie (family of peoples) 9, 13, 46, 74, 86, 242 Völkergemeinschaft 75 völkisch 2 – 4, 6 – 9, 11, 13, 27, 30, 34 – 35, 47, 49 – 50, 58, 65, 72, 79 – 80, 85, 135, 152, 160, 161, 163, 179, 183 – 184, 205 – 207, 210, 225 – 226, 229 – 234, 237 – 238, 241 – 242, 247 Volksdeutsche (ethnic Germans), ethnic German 29, 33, 47, 81 Volksgemeinschaft (People’s Community) 29, 47, 62, 206, 273 Volksgruppen (ethnic/ethnonational groups) 27 – 33, 37n16, 37n17, 85, 95, 160 Volksgruppen law (Volksgruppenrecht) 9, 27, 32 – 33, 35 Volkstum (national culture) 12, 28, 30 – 32, 35 – 36, 180, 231 – 234 Volkswissenschaften (“Volk studies/ sciences”) 9, 27 – 28, 31, 230 – 234, 236 Volpi, Giuseppe 195

Walz, Gustav Adolf 30 – 31 Wannsee Conference 123, 281 war economy 13, 71, 137, 158, 238, 246; see also economy, economic Wehrmacht (German army) 12, 60 – 61, 68n31, 71, 142 – 144, 196, 228, 237 – 238, 241, 243, 247, 261, 276 Weimar Republic 59, 135, 177, 225, 272 Werberat der deutschen Wirtschaft (Advertising Council of German Industry) 127 Werner, Helmut 197 Western Europe 2, 10, 57, 60, 66, 71 – 72, 75, 77, 79 – 80, 82 – 84, 117, 154 – 156, 159, 161, 238 Wettstein, Otto von 142, 144 Wetzel, Erhard 180 Wilhelm, A. 139 Wilmowsky, Tilo von 178, 226 wirtschaftlicher Großraum see Großwirtschaftsraum Wolzt, Leonhard 139 World War I 27, 29, 177, 206 – 207, 211; see also First World War Wüscht, Johann 161

Wagemann, Ernst 156, 159, 166n31 Wales 80, 156 Wallonia 80, 104, 181

Ziebarth, Erich 139 Zimmermann, K. 142 Zoepke, Kurt 141

Ypsilantis, Emanuel Prince 139 Yugoslavia, Yugoslavian 2, 83, 142, 155 – 159, 161 – 162, 164n16, 165n17, 167n49, 168n54