Wildt RSHA Spirit
Wildt RSHA Spirit
Wildt RSHA Spirit
To cite this article: Michael Wildt (2005) The Spirit of the Reich Security Main Office (RSHA),
Totalitarian Movements and Political Religions, 6:3, 333-349, DOI: 10.1080/14690760500317685
To link to this article: http://dx.doi.org/10.1080/14690760500317685
MICHAEL WILDT
Hamburg Institute of Social Research
MichaelWildt
1469-0764
Original
Taylor
6302005
michael_wildt@his-online.de
00000Winter
&
Article
Francis
(print)/1743-9647
2005Ltd and Political
(online)Religions
Totalitarian
10.1080/14690760500317685
FTMP_A_131751.sgm
and
Francis
Movements
When, on 16 September 1942, Heinrich Himmler met his senior officers (SS- und
Polizeifhrer) of the occupied Soviet territories, he not only informed them about
the precarious course of war, and that Germany had underestimated the military
strength of the Soviet army. He not only talked about his main topic, how to
refresh the German national body with those children whom German soldiers
had had by Russian women. Himmler also sketched his design of a new pagan
religion based on the eternal laws of blood (die ewigen Gesetze des Blutes).
From Himmlers perspective, the threat of the extinction (Volkstod) of the
Germans had existed because fewer children were being born.
If there is no inner moral restoration (seelische innere Umkehr), then we
Germans will become extinct. In that case we will have defeated the
vanguard of Asia, because we had Adolf Hitler on our side, but the fight
which will come after, whether with a Russia renewed out of Siberia or
with some other people is one we will no longer be able to win. This inner
moral restoration can only mean devotion to our ancestors (Ahnen). In
everything I do, I have to accept responsibility to my ancestors. Those
ancestors have granted honour, reputation, glory, health, blood, power of
body and soul to me, so I do have the duty of passing this legacy on to my
descendants. I am not allowed to treat this legacy in my own individualistic
way
This beloved Nordic blood, our own Germanic people, from which we
come and to which we owe everything, which is really the best on this
earth, which has given this earth meaning, form, and culture, this people
rises up because of Adolf Hitler. And all of us, as SS members, as the
knights of the Reich, can be proud to help fulfil this task. After thousands
of years, in the course of eternal change, there will be descent and decline
once again until, from the remnants of this blood, which we have
implanted, there will rise another spring, another ascent in this eternal
cycle of dying and being born just as Fate, the immortal forefather
(Urahne), has preordained it. So do your duty everywhere you find yourselves and you will fulfil your fate as the law has ordered it.1
Correspondence Address: Michael Wildt, Hamburger Institut fr Sozialforschung, Mittelweg 36, D-20148
Hamburg, Germany. Email: michael.wildt@his-online.de
ISSN 1469-0764 Print/1743-9647 Online/05/030333-17 2005 Taylor & Francis
DOI: 10.1080/14690760500317685
334
M. Wildt
Most scholars who have considered the concept of political religion in relation
to Nazism have treated National Socialism as if it was a religion, and compared its
political symbols and rituals with religious liturgy and worship.2 Dealing with
political religion by suggesting analogies of this kind poses problems. The first
lies in the assumption underpinning conventional interpretations of secularisation in modern times. It tends to treat religion as if it had vanished and been
replaced by politics.3 From this perspective, religion remained an essentially premodern phenomenon. Now disguised as politics, it was an irrational and antiEnlightenment world view that had to fight back. The second misapprehension is
the assumption that takes National Socialism as an ideological entity which had
to make a clear decision between adopting a religious character and a secular
one.4 The various ideas, imaginings and discourses within the Nazi regime about
religion in general, and Christianity in particular, and the right way to deal with
them, are necessarily neglected when this perspective is adopted.5
In contrast to the definition of political religion as the sacralisation of politics
(Emilio Gentile), Himmler had been eager to create a National Socialist pagan
religion in its own right, not distinct from, and autonomous of traditional religious institutions,6 but as a renaissance of pagan cults and beliefs. It was
designed to be apart from Christianity, but within a framework of traditional or
more precisely, what Himmler regarded as traditional vlkisch religious institutions. Blood was to be the substantive and sacred centre of this Germanic
religion. The eternal chain of genealogy meant more than a philosophy of history.
It entailed the transcendence of all the individual links in the chain, since all
individuals had to fulfil their biological destiny, otherwise the chain threatened to
break. The moral choice between being a saint and a sinner, the responsibility of
Everyman before the Creator, and even obedience to the law (Himmler of course
did not mean the Law of the Holy Bible, but the law of blood, the law of nature)
should turn every member of the Germanic people into a believer, a member of a
Germanic religion.
Ever since becoming Reichsfhrer SS in 1929, Himmler had occupied himself
with issuing instructions for the SS mens observation of new religious rituals.
Instead of Christmas and Easter, they should celebrate the solstice in December
as well as in June. Every major SS unit was to be responsible for one archaeological site which was to serve as an exemplar of Germanic glory and history.
Himmler himself had been committed to establishing the cultic status of rock
monuments near Detmold, called Externsteine, which were regarded as a
Germanic sanctuary, as well to the grave of the medieval king Heinrich I in the
Quedlinburg cathedral. An old castle named Wewelsburg near Paderborn was
earmarked to become the ritual centre of the SS religion, and Himmler spent a lot
of money to refurbish the masonry.7
Himmler did not win over the Nazi lite in general, or even Hitler in particular,
to his attempt to establish an anti-Christian religion of blood and genealogy. He
had always held a minority position. And without doubt there were several
bizarre, psychic details in Himmlers construction of history and faith. However,
to regard them as the abstruse and irrelevant obsessions of one individual would
be to underestimate the intention, persistence and symbolic power of his activities. They were not the mere private hobbyhorse of Heinrich Himmler, but had
constituted an ambitious attempt to establish a religious system, spiritual as well
as practical, for the litist organisation of the forthcoming Great Germanic
Empire. Himmler wanted to release the SS from the Christian culture of the
Perspectives on SS Perpetrators
Testifying on 3 January 1946 at the Nuremberg trial of the principal war criminals,
Otto Ohlendorf at the time still in his late thirties shocked his listeners with the
frank admission that he, as the leader of Einsatzgruppe D, had been responsible for
the murder of 90,000 people in the Soviet Union during 194142. Even 50 years on,
US prosecutor Telford Taylor remembered Ohlendorf as a handsome young man,
who had spoken softly and with great precision and apparent intelligence. Taylor
recalled the paralysing silence in the courtroom which had followed Ohlendorfs
detached and emotionless testimony only too clearly.10 It was also 50 years later
that Daniel Goldhagen, in his book Hitlers Willing Executioners, raised a key question. Most reflections on Nazi perpetrators or explanations of their deeds had
sought and continue to seek possible motives that might have induced ordinary Germans to commit genocide. There must have been factors that had eroded
moral barriers or cultural boundaries in such a way as to have rendered ordinary
people capable of perpetrating monstrous crimes. What Goldhagen asked was:
were the perpetrators indeed forced to commit these crimes, or were they willing,
336
M. Wildt
even eager, to persecute and exterminate the Jews? Did these men murder because
they had to, or because they were allowed to do so?11
Of course, one cannot answer this question simply by supporting one side or
the other. Obviously, there is no simple or unambiguous answer. The significance, however, lies in the asking. There are, in fact, numerous images of Nazi
perpetrators. First, there is the image of the SS men as sketched by Eugen Kogon,
a former inmate of the Buchenwald camp, in the immediate post-war period. He
portrayed them as brutal, poorly educated, primitive and socially deprived
individuals, unable to hold down normal jobs in civil society.12 Even when the
Nuremberg Trials revealed that the German lite lawyers, physicians, officers
and entrepreneurs were deeply involved in the mass murder and genocide, a
majority of post-1945 Germans were still eager to believe that these men were
exceptions, a misled criminal minority. Furthermore, in the atmosphere of the
beginning of the Cold War, it was not long before former war criminals were
viewed as unjustly sentenced warriors against communism, who now should be
released from prison.
The second image of the perpetrators of Nazi crimes is the picture of Adolf
Eichmann in his glass booth in the Jerusalem District Court. Hannah Arendts
book, and her dictum about the banality of evil, shaped the image of Nazi perpetrators in the decades that followed.13 This was due not only to the impact of her
reasoning and her brilliant prose style, but was also the result of a concurrent shift
within the social sciences. This is confirmed by the fact that Raul Hilberg, who
published his famous book on the Holocaust in the same period, also portrayed
the perpetrators as part of the normal, smoothly functioning modern bureaucracy
that was responsible for genocide.14 Hilberg was interested not so much in individuals as in administration, bureaucracies, procedures and structures. He was a
student of Franz Neumann, who had close ties to the Frankfurt Institute for Social
Research, which particularly emphasised the aspects of overarching and somewhat anonymous social structures.
During the 1950s and 1960s, social scientists in the Western world increasingly
favoured structuralist theories and concepts, and this shift affected historiography as well. In Germany, a substantial number of historians supported the
concept of a historical social science and shifted the focus of their work from
historical actors as the subjects of history to research on impersonal social structures, large-scale social phenomena such as class, social status or interest groups
and to the analysis of enormous quantities of data on economic development.
This modern approach to the social sciences also influenced the historiography of
National Socialism and the Holocaust, and promoted a structuralist perspective
on the Nazi regime and National Socialist society.
For many years, the bureaucrat, the technocrat, the armchair culprit was (and
continues to be) the dominant image of the perpetrators of Nazi crimes. These
perpetrators focused on their own duties, accepted the administrative tasks
assigned them, and carried them out correctly and conscientiously without feeling responsible for the overall consequences. In short, they perceived themselves
as small cogs in a huge machine that was beyond their control. This image not
only corresponded to the defence formulated by numerous perpetrators, but also
matched the daily experience of many individuals in a modern, bureaucratic society with a clear-cut division of labour. Genocide was seen as an industrialised,
production-line form of killing. The bureaucrat became an unsentimental technocrat of power (an expression used by Hans-Ulrich Thamer), a technician of death,
338
II.
M. Wildt
Characteristic Features of the RSHA Leadership Corps
A total of about 3,000 people, including secretaries and lower officials, were
employed in the RSHA in Berlin. About 400 men (and one woman) had positions
at the highest level, as Referenten (departmental officials), Gruppenleiter or
Amtschefs (heads of office). Of these, I have chosen a sample of 221 individuals
who constituted the leadership corps that worked in the RSHA more or less
continuously. When one examines the biographies of these RSHA leaders, one
finds a strikingly homogeneous generational group: 77 per cent were born after
1900; most were from lower-middle-class families and were the first in their
families to attend university, with two thirds of this group actually completing
their university degrees, and one third (or 50 per cent of those who studied at
university in the first place) gaining a doctoral degree.
The generation of those who were children or youngsters during the First
World War and, from their perspective, were therefore denied the opportunity of
proving themselves on the front lines, formed the reservoir from which the
RSHA recruited its leadership corps. For this young generation, the lack of opportunity to prove themselves as brave warriors represented an enduring blow to
their self-confidence. It infused them with a feeling that they would have to prove
themselves in the future. And the fact that these young men became such
merciless, cruel officers during the Second World War may be related to the
circumstance that they had never seen a battlefield before, that they had not been
soldiers like their fathers or older brothers, that they lacked the image of martial
masculinity.
During the First World War, the far-off battles were brought close to home
especially by newspapers, which were published as often as three times a day and
portrayed the war as a game on a drawing-board, as manoeuvres with armies of
tin soldiers. Those soldiers triumphantly marched on, held strategically important hills, or temporarily withdrew for tactical purposes to straighten the front
lines. For these men, war was in the words of the renowned German journalist
Sebastian Haffner, born in 1907 a great game, which they played every day
seriously, but not physically. War was a playground, not a battlefield, an arena
for competition where nations intermingled and were destroyed without blood,
death and pain. This was a generation of young gamblers and of non-believers
in bourgeois society.18 What these youngsters experienced first-hand was not so
much the so-called home front during the First World War as post-war shortages,
political upheaval, revolution, violence and hatred. They lived through the postwar economic disaster leading to the hyperinflation of 1923, which turned
bourgeois society upside down. This last point was of major importance, as bourgeois values such as hard work, diligence and thrift and attendant adages
asserting that one would enjoy a peaceful old age if one only worked hard and
saved ones money became worthless. Living in such times meant that one came
to despise bourgeois values: the promises of bourgeois society seemed to be a
deception.
Discontinuity, a break with the past and a focus on the future became the
hallmarks of this generation. This generation also made youth its programme to a
degree unequalled by any other generation in twentieth-century Germany. But
this was not youth in the usual sense of the word, implying a normal genealogical generation conflict. Rather, youth heralded the design of a new world, basing
its appeal and its uncompromising demands on the collapse of the old. Parading
340
M. Wildt
designed a model of law and of the state that had little in common with either the
Weimar constitution or the theories of the Prussian philosopher Georg Wilhelm
Friedrich Hegel. Their concept of leadership was not based on laws or legal
principles, but rather on history and actions.
Leadership, action, ideas these were the dominant elements in the political
thinking of these young men. Leadership, they maintained, was based on knowledge of the organic development of nature and people and was confirmed by
deeds. A leader proved himself through the superiority of his deeds and their
success. Success alone counted and legitimated both actions and ideas. Deeds
legitimated themselves. The world view (Weltanschauung) of this generation was
characterised by a specific structure of political thought rather than by specific
political content. Politics was always understood as a dramatic, absolute,
unlimited expression of the will, which was not to be subordinated to regulatory
norms or moral laws.
What is significant in the academic debates of this generation about state, Volk
and Weltanschauung is the connection between theory and practice, between ideology and politics. None of these young academically educated men who imagined
that they were the future lite of a New German Reich regarded themselves as intellectuals, as disinterested scholars. Scholarship had to be political; Weltanschauung
had to prove itself in practice; ideas could prove their worth only through deeds.
Those who were to become the leaders of the RSHA did not want to be bookworms
or scholars, but aimed instead to become a kind of spiritual leadership (eine geistige
Elite), which would not only outline new plans and concepts, but realise them.
Cultural anti-Semitism was, of course, also a characteristic shared by these
young students; in this respect, they did not differ from the bulk of the rest of the
German educated middle class of the period. Even the attitudes of the Leipzig
group mentioned above were, in several respects, identical to those embedded in
National Socialist ideology. My purpose, however, is to retrace the specific
structure of this Weltanschauung. It was an ideology that always sought to realise
the total goal, the whole utopian enterprise: it was incapable of compromise and
proved itself through acting, not through arguing. Success or failure alone
determined whether one was right or wrong. This unlimited, radical ideology,
this unbound connection between ideology and politics had already proved to be
a threat to all liberal, democratic and, of course, Jewish professors and students at
Germanys universities before the Nazi rise to power. It became a greater menace
to them thereafter. However, once this specific ideology had fused with an
institution intentionally designed to have no limits, these two radical elements
would initiate a process of dynamic radicalisation.
III.
If one examines the professional life of the later RSHA leaders, one repeatedly
encounters the biographical option of a career in politics. Even to those who, like
Hans Ehlich or Erwin Weinmann for example, were respected physicians, with
substantial incomes, families, homes and so on, there came a time in their lives
when they decided to realise their political vision, to leave their jobs and join the
SS. Politics, in the sense of policy making, of creating a new political order in
Europe, had always been a serious option in their lives. But National Socialisms
political victory offered them an opportunity to join one of the Nazi regimes
most powerful institutions: the political police.
342
M. Wildt
apart from all that was old and conventional. Consequently, active involvement
in the RSHA was also perfectly possible for those who did not view themselves
explicitly as National Socialists, since it offered a link between Weltanschauung
and institution, between the will to participate in designing a new political order
and a structure through which this order might be created. Those who saw themselves as the lite of a New German Reich believed that they had found the tool,
the institution through which to realise their utopia. Allowing Weltanschauung to
move beyond previous boundaries, rather than drawing up such limits, was the
trademark of a new and radical institution like the Reich Security Main Office.
The RSHA was a flexible organisation. This was precisely the kind of political
fighting administration (kmpfende Verwaltung) Heydrich had called for. It was
capable of expanding or shrinking, building new departments and dissolving old
ones, shifting priorities or establishing new ones, and initiating intra-agency task
forces. For all the slow-moving administrative procedures that were also typical of
an entity like the RSHA, it could enter into new dynamic phases in order to realise
its political goals. Both the political police and the SD were subject to numerous
changes and reorganisations: they were institutions that underwent constant
change at the hands both of their own respective policy makers and of the leaders
of the Nazi regime, depending on the political framework and definition of their
tasks.
For example, new groups responsible for the occupied areas were created.
Even Heinrich Mller, the head of the Gestapo, did not have such a group in
mind when he planned the various groups and departments in the autumn of
1939. Eichmanns Office IV B 4 the equivalent of a department in size and
importance became a central office for deportation in all of Europe. Such new
core sections, both in Eichmanns apparatus and in the important group IV D, no
longer employed the kind of criminal police commissar who had been trained as
a policeman in the Weimar Republic and had then become a Gestapo officer
because of his anti-Bolshevist verve. Now there were significantly younger men,
some of them administrative lawyers, some SD people, most of whom had been
on active duty before or after they took up administrative positions in the
RSHA.
The RSHA was also a mobile organisation. It did not limit itself to operating
from Berlin, with a staff of officials sitting behind their desks doing paperwork
and writing orders that someone else had to carry out. One illuminating example
is the case of Dr Walter Blume. Born in 1906 in Dortmund, he was the son of a
teacher. Walter Blume grew up in a Protestant family, studied law and, as a
student, was a member of right-wing groups. In 1933 Blume was 27 years old at
the time he became head of the political police in Dortmund. One year later, he
was ordered to Berlin as a member of the central Gestapo board; a few months
later he became the head of the Gestapo in Halle and then held the same position
in Hannover. In 1939, he became head of the Gestapo in Berlin. From there he
moved to the RSHA, where he was responsible for all personnel matters of the
Gestapo and the Criminal Police. In 1941 Blume became the leader of Einsatzkommando 7a, which killed thousands of Jewish people in the Soviet Union. He
returned to the RSHA in the autumn of 1941, was sent to Austria a year later and
given the charge of combating partisan groups. Next he was ordered to Dsseldorf in the capacity of chief of the regional police. In 1943 Blume was appointed
chief of the police forces in occupied Greece. He returned to the RSHA in late
1944. Blume is an example of a man suited to all assignments, who functioned
War created the necessary context for the further development of the RSHA.
War made it easier to kill, and made murder an everyday practice. The entire
legal framework of a bourgeois society insurance, property rights, financial
agreements, and all the other rules and regulations with the potential to hinder
RSHA operations vanished in the occupied areas. There were no troublesome
clerks and bureaucrats insisting on laws and agreements, no civil rights or
criminal code. The RSHA could act as it saw fit without restraints or political
reservations.
The war against Poland was undoubtedly a watershed. The operations of the
Einsatzgruppen, most of whose leaders became part of the RSHA leadership a
short time later, were far more horrible than the acts of terror that had been
committed by the same men in their earlier positions as Gestapo or SD leaders. In
autumn 1939 the Einsatzkommandos carried out executions that were similar in
respect of the number of people killed and the methods used to the mass executions later practiced in the occupied Soviet territories. During the operations in
Poland, numerous SS leaders who were later, within the RSHA, to be responsible
for the Final Solution learned to think on a large scale and to cross all the limits
of civilisation. In a sense, the practice of genocide in Poland in the autumn of 1939
marked the actual establishment of the Reich Security Main Office.23
After occupying Poland, the Nazi regime planned to annex western Poland
and to Germanise it. Vlkische Flurbereinigung (or ethnic cleansing) was the
term Hitler coined for this task. What institution could be better suited to the
task than the RSHA? In late October 1939 Himmler ordered that one million
people Jews and Poles be forcibly removed from western Poland to the socalled Generalgouvernement (the Nazis term for occupied central Poland). Besides
dedicated personnel, this large-scale expulsion required trains, deportation
areas, barracks and food for the deportees (even if the actual intention was to
allow them to starve). There was a shortage of trains because the German army
needed them for the French campaign. And the German occupation administration in the Generalgouvernement refused to allow the tens of thousands of deportees to enter because there was a shortage of accommodation, food and other
344
M. Wildt
necessities. As a result, the number of people scheduled for deportation was first
reduced and the deportations postponed. In the end, the entire plan was
abandoned. The ideological vision of the world as an arena of the will in
which reality was an object to be shaped in whatever way one desired had
been put to a difficult test by the many obstacles which the RSHA faced. Yet all
these very real obstacles did not cause the leaders of the RSHA to lose any
degree of confidence in their ability to achieve the goal of Germanising the
annexed regions and making the Reich Jew-free (judenrein).
As the Wehrmachts victory over France in 1940 became obvious, an old antiSemitic plan to expel the European Jews to Madagascar was revived. It could only
be realised if Germany gained control of the seas. Without a victory over Britain,
the plan would remain a phantom. Nevertheless, the German Foreign Office and
the RSHA created detailed plans for deporting the Jews to Madagascar.
Within the Nazi leadership, the Madagascar plan was earnestly discussed until
it became apparent that Hitler preferred attacking the Soviet Union to attacking
Britain. Notwithstanding the scholarly debate about the seriousness of the
Madagascar plan, the fact of the matter is that this alternative was pursued
eagerly within the RSHA, and the number of Jews slated to be deported to Madagascar reached more than three million.24
After its failure only a few months earlier in western Poland, where the RSHA
had been unable to expel the targeted number of one million Jews and Poles, it
nevertheless proceeded to plan a deportation operation three times larger than the
first. Moreover, within a period of only a few months, the RSHA had broadened
the scope of its plans to include not only the Jews from Germany and western
Poland, but those from all over Western Europe.
Another aspect of this plan is also significant. The RSHA operatives were, of
course, aware of the fact that the island of Madagascar had neither enough space,
nor the agricultural land, food and water resources to sustain an additional three
million people. It was clear that tens of thousands of people at least would die of
starvation or as a result of epidemics. Although the Madagascar plan as outlined
in the summer of 1940 was not explicitly a plan for genocide and mass murder, it
still clearly bore the stamp of genocide. The failure of this plan, therefore, did not
mean the end of the intentions it harboured.
Hitler complained that the solution to the Jewish question was hampered only
by territorial problems: there was no place to which he could deport the Jews.
Therefore, the war against the Soviet Union raised the hopes and expectations of
the racial planners within the RSHA. All their problems now seemed to disappear.
The Jews could be expelled to the East.
Once again, these new expectations made the plans more monstrous. In December 1940 Himmler spoke of nearly six million Jews who were to be deported a
number derived from plans prepared by Eichmanns department within the
RSHA. This total included West European Jews and the Jews from south-eastern
Europe as well, even though this region had not yet been occupied by the Nazis.
In the space of a single year, the number of potential deportees had increased from
one to six million, and the area from which they were to be driven out had been
extended from western Poland to all of Europe.25
Despite all obstacles and, in late 1940, none of these monstrous plans had
been realised the RSHA did not give up the project of making Germany and
occupied Europe judenrein and establishing a new racist order across the
continent. Although all these plans had failed, the RSHA had been unwilling to
346
M. Wildt
At the beginning of the Nazi regime, the protagonists who were later to join the
RSHA did not think in terms of genocide. But genocide as a possibility was
inherent in their thinking. The war in the East provided the geographical space in
which the process of radicalisation could lead to genocide. Whereas there were
numerous legal and administrative obstacles for the RSHA to overcome within
the territory of the Reich, such limits, characteristic of a legalistic bourgeois society, did not exist in the East. Concepts of modernisation as a process of bureaucratisation, and of the increasing regulation of social interaction, lost their
applicability in the face of the actual practices of the Nazi regime in the East. The
dismantling of limits there also meant the dismantling of bureaucracy, as well as
the deregulation and the personalisation of decision-making processes. In Estonia, Lithuania, the Ukraine and the Crimea, neither the German legal code nor the
handbook for German administrative officials was valid. The young university
educated men serving as Einsatzkommando leaders were on their own there. They
were local rulers, far removed from the central office in Berlin, who made lifeand-death decisions. These men had never been little wheels in a huge machine of
destruction, never mere functionaries who only looked at their narrow task, never
bureaucrats obeying only the orders that came from above; these men had
designed the concepts, and constructed and operated the apparatus that led to
mass murder and genocide.
Conclusion
Returning to the question raised at the beginning of this article, we have to
admit that there is no clue, whether in practice or in ideology, which could
justify the assumption that these RSHA leaders acted as missionaries of a new
pagan religion. What is clear, however, is that they did not see themselves as
ivory-tower scholars or mere thinkers. On the contrary, the success of a theory
had to be demonstrated in practice. Racism and anti-Semitism could be found all
over Europe, but in Germany they entered into a unique union with a Weltanschauung fomented by the human utopias and historical myths of the nineteenth
century. Always dramatic, ruthless, unbound and oriented toward the whole,
this Weltanschauung feared neither setting the world on fire in purgatory flames
of destruction, nor breeding a New Man. This project not only of recreating
Germany with a new race but of creating a new racial order for all of Europe;
not merely of designing a braver new world, but turning it into a horrific reality
led droves of intellectuals, academics and scientists to become ready supporters of the Nazi regime. At last, philosophers could believe that they were in
power; physicians could see themselves in the role of uncontrolled designers of
human life; historians could think themselves in a position to shape world
history.
The participation of these members of the intellectual lite in the National
Socialist crimes and their role as perpetrators were not exclusively functional,
rational and technical, as they tried to convince the world after the war. If one
fails to see the passion behind the mask of rationality, one will fail to recognise the
energy or the fire of these perpetrators.
This fire is, I think, akin to the passion of believers. The mercilessness with
which Christians fought against Jews, pagans and not least each other, the intransigence with which the Christian doctrines were debated, the eagerness with
which Christian missionaries delivered the true religion all over the world, may
have been declined in modern times after the Enlightenment. But the passion did
not vanish. Much like the famous Protestant theologian Friedrich Schleiermacher,
Eric Voegelin regarded religion as the emotion of a man who experiences his
existence as being natural [kreatrlich] and, therefore, questionable The Beyond
surrounding us can be searched for and found in all the directions in which
human existence is open toward the world: in the body and in the spirit, in man
and in community, in nature [Natur] and in God. What Voegelin called the
realissimum was, from Heinrich Himmlers own and this RSHA generations
perspective, the racist community, the blood.
When the inner-worldly collective existence takes the place of God, the
person becomes the link serving the sacral contents of the world, i.e., an
instrument, as Kant already and still noted with, astonishment. The
problem of the persons conduct of life, its physical and spiritual existence, is only important in connection with the existence of the overall
community as its realissimum. When an individual has assumed the attitude of inner-worldly religiosity, he accepts this position; he views
himself as a tool, as a Hegelian machine part working in the overall
whole, and voluntarily submits himself to the technical means with
which he is integrated into the collective organisation. The knowledge of
the contents of the world and the techniques based on such knowledge
are not the temporally subordinated means for attaining the eternal goal
of life in the other-worldly God; they are rather the life-blood of the innerworldly God himself. They build the corpus mysticum of the collectivity
and bind the members to form the oneness of the body.
Taking political religion in Voegelins sense, the political passion of the RSHA
leaders could be described as religious, although they would not have described
themselves in this way. Obviously, most would also not have believed in the kind
of pagan religion Heinrich Himmler had outlined. And of course nearly all of
them would have refused to understand their task as a Christian apocalyptic or
messianic mission.
Nevertheless, asked what the core of their Weltanschauung was, most of them
would probably have answered as Himmler did: blood and genealogy. To put
it in Voeglins words, blood was the realissimum of a worldly religion
(Diesseits-Religion) and genealogy was the corpus mysticum of a new racist lite.
The unboundedness of these men, the passion and energy they committed to the
creation of a novum saeculum, cannot be understood exclusively in the terms of
modern political theory. It must also be analysed with the aid of the theoretical
framework of political religion. The passion and the Weltanschauung of this SS
lite raise the conceptual question as to whether political religion can be
appraised by religious criteria alone. It might be time to rethink the relationship
of the political to the religious.
Notes
1. Federal Archives Berlin, NS 19/4009, fol.123, 126f.
2. Cf., for example, Michael Burleigh, The Third Reich: A New History (London: Macmillan, 2000). For
overviews of the scholarly debate on political religion, see Hans Maier (ed.), Totalitarismus und
Politische Religionen, 3 vols. (Paderborn: Schningh, 1996, 1997, 2003); and now also Emilio Gentile,
348
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
8.
9.
10.
11.
12.
13.
14.
15.
16.
17.
18.
19.
20.
21.
22.
23.
24.
M. Wildt
Fascism, Totalitarianism and Political Religion: Definitions and Critical Reflections of an Interpretation, Totalitarian Movements and Political Religions 5/3 (Winter 2004), pp.32675.
For a vehement and lucid critique of this thesis, see the German philosopher Hans Blumenberg,
Die Legitimitt der Neuzeit, rev. edn. (Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp, 1988).
Richard Steigmann-Gall has recently pointed out that most of the Nazi elite, and in particular
Hitler himself, explicitly did not regard National Socialism as a religion. See Richard SteigmannGall, Nazism and the Revival of Political Religion Theory, Totalitarian Movements and Political
Religions 5/3 (Winter 2004), pp.37696. Nevertheless, there is still an important distinction
between the several self-descriptions of the subjects themselves and an analytical attempt to characterise the movements and their symbolic expressions. So the debate about politics and secularisation, religion and emotion in the modern world has not come to an end.
The extreme position is held by Claus-Ekkehard Brsch and Michael Ley, who identify National
Socialism with Christianity. See Claus-Ekkehard Brsch, Die politische Religion des Nationalsozialismus: Die religise Dimension der NS-Ideologie in den Schriften von Dietrich Eckart, Joseph Goebbels,
Alfred Rosenberg und Adolf Hitler (Mnchen: W. Fink, 1998); Michael Ley, Der Nationalsozialismus als
politische Religon (Bodenheim: Philo Verlagsgesellschaft, 1997).
Cf. Emilio Gentile, The Sacralisation of Politics: Definitions, Interpretations and Reflections on the
Question of Secular Religions and Totalitarianism, Totalitarian Movements and Political Religions 1/
1 (Summer 2000), pp.1855.
Cf. Michael H. Kater, Das Ahnenerbe der SS 19351945: Ein Beitrag zur Kulturpolitik des Dritten
Reiches (Mnchen: R. Oldenbourg, 1997).
Himmlers speech to senior SS officers in Munich, 8 Nov. 1937, Federal Archives Berlin, NS 19/
4004, fols.278351, at 342.
The passages which follow are based substantially on my study, Generation des Unbedingten: Das
Fhrungskorps des Reichssicherheitshauptamtes (Hamburg: Hamburger Edition, 2002; an English
edition, under the working title Generation of the Unbound, is forthcoming, Madison, WI: University of Wisconsin Press, 2007).
Telford Taylor, The Anatomy of the Nuremberg Trials: A Personal Memoir (New York: Knopf, 1992).
Daniel Jonah Goldhagen, Hitlers Willing Executioners: Ordinary Germans and the Holocaust (New
York: Knopf, 1996).
Eugen Kogon, The Theory and Practice of Hell: The German Concentration Camps and the System Behind
Them (London: Secker & Warburg, 1950).
Hannah Arendt, Eichmann in Jerusalem: A Report on the Banality of Evil (London: Faber, 1963).
Raul Hilberg, The Destruction of the European Jews (London: W.H. Aleen, 1961).
Cf., for example, Robert L. Koehl, Toward an SS Typology: Social Engineers, American Journal of
Economics and Sociology 18/2 (1959), pp.11326. Jeffrey Herf, who considered engineers as ideologues, adopted a much more subtle approach: Jeffrey Herf, Reactionary Modernism:. Technology,
Culture, and Politics in Weimar and the Third Reich (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1984),
pp.15288.
The best overview of the controversy is still Eberhard Jckel and Jrgen Rohwer (eds.), Der Mord
an den Juden im Zweiten Weltkrieg (Stuttgart: Deutsche Verlags-Anstalt, 1985).
Gtz Aly and Susanne Heim, Vordenker der Vernichtung: Auschwitz und die deutschen Plne fr eine
neue europische Ordnung (Hamburg: Fischer, 1991); Ulrich Herbert, Best: Biographische Studien ber
Radikalismus, Weltanschauung und Vernunft, 19031989 (Bonn: J.H.W. Dietz Nachf., 1996); on recent
developments in research on Nazi perpetrators, see Gerhard Paul (ed.), Die Tter der Shoah:.
Fanatische Nationalsozialisten und ganz normale Deutsche (Gttingen: Wallstein, 2002).
Sebastian Haffner, Defying Hitler: A Memoir (New York: Picador, 2000).
Cf. Wildt (note 9), pp.11525.
Heinrich Himmler, Aufgaben und Aufbau der Polizei des Dritten Reiches, in Hans Pfundtner
(ed.), Dr Wilhelm Frick und sein Ministerium (Mnchen: 1937), ss.12530.
Reinhard Heydrich, Wandlungen unseres Kampfes, (Mnchen/Berlin: 1936), p.18f.
Cf. Wildt (note 9), pp.1805.
Cf. also Alexander B. Rossino, Hitler Strikes Poland: Blitzkrieg, Ideology and Atrocity (Lawrence, KS:
University Press of Kansas, 2003); Klaus-Michael Mallmann (ed.), Genesis des Genozids. Polen 1939
1941 (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 2004).
Cf. Magnus Brechtken, Madagaskar fr die Juden: Antisemitische Idee und politische Praxis 18851945
(Mnchen: Oldenbourg, 1997); Hans Jansen, Der Madagaskar-Plan: Die beabsichtigte Deportation der
europischen Juden nach Madagaskar (Mnchen: Langen/Mller, 1997); Leni Yahil, Madagascar
Phantom of a Solution for the Jewish Question, in Bela Vago and George L. Mosse (eds.), Jews and
Non-Jews in Eastern Europe (New York: Wiley, 1974), ss.31534.
25. Cf. Gtz Aly, Final Solution: Nazi Population Policy and the Murder of the European Jews (London:
Arnold, 1999), pp.195200.
26. Studies of the Nazi war of extermination against the Soviet Union are too numerous to be listed
comprehensively here, but see Jrgen Matthuss well-informed chapter, Operation Barbarossa
and the Onset of the Holocaust, JuneDecember 1941, in Christopher Browning (ed.), The Origins
of the Final Solution: The Evolution of Nazi Jewish Policy, September 1939March 1942 (London: Heinemann, 2004), pp.244308 and notes pp.488515.