Let Us Be Careful

 

The last few days, a feeling of being adrift in a vast tumultuous ocean…. I am stirred deeply.  Uneasy. The recent bizarre speeches of American politicians in Germany have left me strangely irritated. The arrogant tone, the hostility. As most of you know, I am now officially both a German Citizen and an American Citizen. Both countries with their histories and cultures are lodged in my bones. Ich bin tief verbunden. In telephone talks with my two siblings, I try to find out how things are evolving in Germany, the country I left 43 years ago. In recent years, cultural transformations of unknown outcome have been happening. Again, times of war in Europe. It does not bode well for the future. The weight of the Unknown. Generational and personal memories keep arising.

 

 

In 1992, I arrange for my (Chicago born Jewish) late husband Bob Blauner and me (München born German) a personal tour of the Dachau Concentration Camp Memorial. We are guided unofficially by a German communist who was imprisoned in 1933 and tortured for years in this concentration camp. Many died, he survived to tell the tale. How the Jewish prisoners who arrived later had it much worse. I am the translator. Our “guide” was among the many persecuted working-class communists in Munich. My parents are friends with him and others, me too.

 

The people I am talking about here are all dead now, besides me. But those hours at the concentration camp are searingly alive, unforgettable. I know that our memorial visit might be more difficult, personalized in this rare way, there is no room for clichés. It brings the historical catastrophic tragedy into a humble circle of remembrance and honoring. Human beings, Jewish, German, intergenerational, all coming together. The eldest is our guide, 86 years old. Then my husband, 64 years old at the time, and me, 39 years old. The fourth protagonist is Sorrow. Tall and dignified, a pale and yet luminous presence, invisible to the eye but not the heart. She touches and bonds us into a silent sphere of feeling, beyond words. Something is transmitted. First hand. Unforgettable.

 

Nowadays we are again in times of extreme global turmoil. Ninety-two years ago – in 1933 – Hitler arrests countless German non-Jewish intellectuals, socialists, writers, philosophers, communists, activists. This warning gesture successfully terrorizes the population within the first three months of the “thousand-year Reich.”  After this, many emigrate or manage to escape. Next, the disabled, gays, lesbians, trans and Roma people are persecuted. Later, after much violence and restrictions to inhumane ghettoes, the worst arrives for the Jewish people. This historical sequence is important for us to remember and understand. Let us be careful.

 

When we know the history of the Holocaust only via Hollywood movies, we understand very little. The films might be entertaining, and make us cry. Good. But how was it all coming about? The years preceding the war and Holocaust were critical, just like our times right now here in America are going to lead somewhere yet unimaginable. The extremely inhumane treatment of immigrants and asylum seekers – what happened to the international human right to asylum? The daily terrorizing of their families. It is incredibly horrifying and already unimaginable to me.  Making them disappear to Guantanamo where no immigration lawyers can save them. We can’t stop it, we are by-standers. Helplessly donating money, calling, signing petitions, standing at the street corner. America 2025. How dire it is right now. Does the country understand?

The history of Reconstruction comes to mind. The unimaginable experiences and sufferings of Black people. And then, how things were ripped away from them brutally. The newly-won freedom, opportunities, progress, wealth, human rights, countless lives. The pendulum swung hard. Public lynchings, massacres like in Tulsa. And white ordinary folks let it happen, stood by, looking the other way. The still-ongoing mistake of obsessing how only the Germans were, are, and will be Nazis, fascists, bystanders. A certain complacency, forgetting the deep roots of racism, have allowed for the last years of kids in cages, the January 6 takeover of the Capitol in 2021, our Proud Boys, militias, our current Führer in America, the muskrat’s scandals and robberies, to name just a few. Never mind that Hitler learned a whole lot from America about eugenics and racism. Careful.

 

Germany is a very imperfect country; my sister Dinah in Göttingen worries it will soon be very much like America, in a few years, or sooner. (I am writing before Sunday’s elections.) This past Wednesday, we have a long telephone call. Across the continents, across the time zones. An hour and half later, we agree that the future looks bleak for both countries, and of course globally for the planet. A darkness has descended. It is late where she lives. Dinah will drink a glass of wine with her husband. I am so grateful for her existence in my life, and our dialogue across the ocean. In a few hours the sun will set here in California. My heart heavy, I feel the weight of darkness. But then, after restlessly listening to Deutschlandfunk radio, a strange lightness arises as I sit quietly with the memories of that Dachau visit thirty-three years ago. A meeting across languages, across decades. Breath is expanding my ribcage, barefoot I dance. We were freshly married. In love. We were brave.

What will my small delight be tonight? Will it be a sip of rum, or pear schnaps? No matter what, I murmur to myself, let's engage in learning to be fully human – very difficult – and be world citizens who can hold complexities, think for themselves, and practice Zivilcourage. Back then in Germany, there were resisters, just as now, and here they exist as well. May we be grateful for their backbone and courage. May we draw inspiration. At midnight, I opt for my artisan smoky mezcal from my late best friend John. Three tiny sips. One for humankind, one for you, one for me. May we all be awake. Even when we sleep… and dream of better visions. May we gather as much hope as is helpful. Avoid falling into depression or rosy oblivion. A fine balance. The helplessness wants to be felt. The darkness needs to be lived through as well. With our inner light. May we be kind.

May we be careful.

Art by Antonie Cosentino 

(pages of her Art Journal 2023 – 2025)

Courtesy Antonie Cosentino, Ramona, California

 

Soon I will introduce you to this prolific artist and art historian, born in 1938 in Bavaria, married to Dante, she studied, worked and exhibited in Munich, Italy, New York and Southern California. In the past few weeks, you can find her on Sunday mornings on the street corners of Ramona with a small group and their handmade signs demanding democracy.

 

And today, 82 years ago, Sophie and Hans Scholl were sentenced to death and beheaded by guillotine in Munich on February 22, 1943. She was 22 years old, both were students and anti Nazi activists with the White Rose, Weiße Rose.  The Scholl siblings – die Geschwister Scholl – were from a Christian household. May their courage always be a beacon of light. More about them soon.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hans_and_Sophie_Scholl