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This is a fascinating study of how the climate of fear in Nazi Germany affected Hitler's advisers, and shaped the decision-making process. It explores the key foreign policy decisions from the Nazi seizure of power up to the hours before the outbreak of World War II. The author argues persuasively that the tense environment led the diplomats to a nearly obsessive control over the “information arsenal” in a desperate battle to defend their positions and to safeguard their lives. Unlike previous studies, this book draws the reader into the diplomats' darker world, and illustrates how Hitler's power to make informed decisions was limited by the very system he created. The result, the author concludes, was a chaotic flow of information between Hitler and his advisers that may have accelerated the march toward war.

This book connects two central problems encountered by the Federal Republic of Germany prior to reunification in 1990, both of them rooted in the Second World War. Domestically, the country had to integrate eight million expellees forced out of their homes in Central and Eastern Europe as a result of the lost war. Externally, it had to reestablish relations with Eastern Europe, despite the burdens of the Nazi past, the expulsions, and the ongoing East–West struggle during the Cold War. This book shows how the long-term consequences of the expellee problem significantly hindered West German efforts to develop normal ties with the East European states. In particular, it emphasizes a point largely overlooked in the existing literature: the way in which the political integration of the expellees into the Federal Republic had unanticipated negative consequences for the country's Ostpolitik.

This series features distinguished works in the humanities and social sciences. This volume of the Proceedings of the British Academy contains fifteen lectures delivered at the British Academy in 2006. Subjects covered range from consideration of Einstein, to discussions of coercion and consent in Nazi Germany, and judicial independence.

The Third Reich met its end in the spring of 1945 in an unparalleled wave of suicides. Hitler, Goebbels, Bormann, Himmler and later Göring all killed themselves. These deaths represent only the tip of an iceberg of a massive wave of suicides that also touched upon ordinary lives. As this suicide epidemic has no historical precedent or parallel, it can tell us much about the Third Reich's peculiar self-destructiveness and the depths of Nazi fanaticism. The book looks at the suicides of both Nazis and ordinary people in Germany between 1918 and 1945, from the end of World War I until the end of World War II, including the mass suicides of German Jews during the Holocaust. It shows how suicides among different population groups, including supporters, opponents, and victims of the regime, responded to the social, cultural, economic and, political context of the time. The book also analyses changes and continuities in individual and societal responses to suicide over time, especially with regard to the Weimar Republic and the post-1945 era.

This study shows that the Wehrmacht was systematically involved in atrocities against the civilian population on the Eastern Front. Including quotes from letters, diaries, and military reports, this book aims to challenge the notion that the German army during World War II was apolitical and to reveal how thoroughly permeated it was by Nazi ideology. Focusing on ordinary German soldiers on the Eastern front, the book shows how government propaganda and indoctrination motivated the troops not only to fight well but to commit unprecedented crimes against humanity. This institutionalized brainwashing revolved around two interrelated elements: the radical demonization of the Soviet enemy and the deification of the führer. Consequently, most of the troops believed the war in the Eastern theater was a struggle to dam the Jewish/Bolshevik/Asiatic flood that threatened Western civilization. This book demonstrates how Germany's soldiers were transformed into brutal instruments of a barbarous policy.

The Nazis never won a majority in free elections, but soon after Hitler took power most Germans turned away from democracy and backed the Nazi regime. Hitler was able to win growing support even as he established the Gestapo and the concentration camps. Yet for over fifty years historians have disputed what the German people knew about these camps and in what ways they were involved in the persecution of ‘race enemies’, slave workers, and social outsiders. This book looks at these issues. The book aims to expose once and for all the subsequent consent and active participation of large numbers of ordinary Germans in the terror. It shows that rather than hide their racist and repressive campaigns from the German people the Nazis trumpeted them in the national papers and on the streets. It reveals how they drew on popular images, cherished German ideals, and long-held phobias to win converts to their cause.

This book takes an in-depth look at German journalism from the late Weimar period through the postwar decades. Illuminating the roles played by journalists in the media metropolis of Hamburg, the book focuses on the lives and work of three remarkable individuals: Marion Countess Dönhoff, distinguished editor of Die Zeit; Paul Sethe, “the grand old man of West German journalism”; and Hans Zehrer, editor in chief of Die Welt. All born before 1914, Dönhoff, Sethe, and Zehrer witnessed the Weimar Republic's end and opposed Hitler. When the latter seized power in 1933, they were, like their fellow Germans, confronted with the difficult choice of entering exile, becoming part of the active resistance, or joining the Nazi Party. Instead, they followed a fourth path—“inner emigration”—psychologically distancing themselves from the regime, their writing falling into a gray zone between grudging collaboration and active resistance. During the war, Dönhoff and Sethe had links to the 1944 conspiracy to kill Hitler, while Zehrer remained out of sight on a North Sea island. In the decades after 1945, all three became major figures in the West German media. The book considers how these journalists and those who chose inner emigration interpreted Germany's horrific past and how they helped to morally and politically shape the reconstruction of the country. With fresh archival materials, the book sheds essential light on the influential position of the German media in the mid-twentieth century and raises questions about modern journalism that remain topical today.

In August 1934 Adolf Hitler attended the world-famous Oberammergau Passion Play, falsely branding the villagers as Nazi ideologues. In fact, the drama reflected traditional interpretations of the biblical narrative, pitting Jewish leaders and crowds against Jesus and his loyal followers. Yet elite Europeans and Americans flocked to Oberammergau each decade after 1850 to witness the play because actors and audience shared the anti-Semitic messages they read into the Gospel story. Oberammergau’s population was split between Hitler’s supporters and opponents because some villagers were true believers and others tolerated the Nazi regime’s extreme cultural restructuring, while Catholic loyalists resisted efforts to replace their customary practices with Nazified alternatives. All sides united in defending their centuries-old tradition of dramatizing the Passion. Villagers appeared on stage as children and grew up hoping to perform major roles as adults, so their entire lives revolved around the play seasons. This commitment nurtured a powerful communal identity in Oberammergau, carving out maneuvering room for dissent at the margins of Nazi tyranny even by party members who defied superiors threatening Oberammergau’s special interests. Their actions represented an extreme example of the maxim: “All politics is local.” Drawing on a huge array of records, the book tells the up-close and personal story of a community in crisis, illuminating heart-wrenching decisions made by villagers alternatively wooed and threatened by their Nazi leaders. Biographies bring these everyday Germans to life as complex human beings struggling with the extreme challenges of the Nazi Era.

This book examines how the United Kingdom government went about protecting the interests, lives, and well‐being of its prisoners of war (POWs) in Nazi Germany between 1939 and 1945. The comparatively good treatment of British prisoners in Germany has largely been explained by historians in terms of rational self‐interest, reciprocity, and influence of Nazi racism, which accorded Anglo‐Saxon servicemen a higher status than other categories of POWs. By contrast, this book offers a more nuanced picture of Anglo‐German relations and the politics of prisoners of war. Based on British, German, United States, and Swiss sources, it argues that German benevolence towards British POWs stemmed from London's success in working through neutral intermediaries, notably its protecting power (the United States and Switzerland) and the International Committee of the Red Cross, to promote German compliance with the 1929 Geneva convention, and building and sustaining a relationship with the German government that was capable of withstanding the corrosive effects of five years of warfare. It expands our understanding of both the formulation and execution of POW policy in both capitals, and sheds new light on the dynamics in inter‐belligerent relations during the war. It suggests that, while the Second World War should be rightly acknowledged as a conflict in which traditional constraints were routinely abandoned in the pursuit of political, strategic, or ideological goals, in this important area of Anglo‐German relations, customary international norms were both resilient and effective.

Established in the 1930s to rescue scientists and scholars from Nazi Europe, the Society for the Protection of Science and Learning (SPSL, founded in 1933 as the Academic Assistance Council and now known as the Council for Assisting Refugee Academics) has had an illustrious career. No fewer than eighteen of its early grantees became Nobel Laureates and 120 were elected Fellows of the British Academy and Royal Society in the UK. While a good deal has been written on the SPSL in the 1930s and 1940s, and especially on the achievements of the outstanding scientists rescued, much less attention has been devoted to the scholars who contributed to the social sciences and humanities, and there has been virtually no research on the Society after the Second World War. The archive-based essays in this book, written to commemorate the 75th anniversary of the organisation, attempt to fill this gap. The essays include revisionist accounts of the founder of the SPSL and some of its early grantees. They examine the SPSL's relationship with associates and allies, the experiences of women academics and those of the post-war academic refugees from Communist Europe, apartheid South Africa, and Pinochet's Chile. In addition to scholarly contributions, the book includes moving essays by the children of early grantees. At a time of increasing international concern with refugees and immigration, it is a reminder of the enormous contribution generations of academic refugees have made — and continue to make — to learning the world over.

The history of Krupp is the history of modern Germany. No company symbolized the best and worst of that history more than the famous steel and arms maker. This book tells the story of the Krupp family and its industrial empire between the early nineteenth century and the present, and analyzes its transition from a family business to one owned by a nonprofit foundation. Krupp founded a small steel mill in 1811, which established the basis for one of the largest and most important companies in the world by the end of the century. Famously loyal to its highly paid workers, it rejected an exclusive focus on profit, but the company also played a central role in the armament of Nazi Germany and the firm's head was convicted as a war criminal at Nuremberg. Yet after the war Krupp managed to rebuild itself and become a symbol of Germany once again—this time open, economically successful, and socially responsible. This book presents a balanced account, showing that the owners felt ambivalent about the company's military connection even while becoming more and more entangled in Germany's aggressive politics during the imperial era and the Third Reich. By placing the story of Krupp and its owners in a wide context, this book also provides new insights into the political, social, and economic history of modern Germany.