9
On April 1st, 1924, I began to serve my sentence of detention in the Fortress of Landsberg am Lech, following the verdict pronounced by the Munich People’s Court on that day. After years of uninterrupted labour it was now possible for the first time to begin a work for which many had asked and which I myself felt would be profitable for the Movement. I therefore decided to devote two volumes to a description not only of the aims of our Movement, but also of its development. There is more to be learned from this than from any purely doctrinaire treatise. This has also given me the opportunity of describing my own development in so far as such a description is necessary to the understanding of the first as well as of the second volume and to refute the unfounded tales which the Jewish press has circulated about me. In this work I turn not to strangers, but to those followers of the Movement whose hearts belong to it and who wish to study it more profoundly. I know that fewer people are won over by the written, than by the spoken, word and that every great movement on this earth owes its growth to great speakers and not to great writers. Nevertheless, in order to achieve more equality and uniformity in the defence of any doctrine, its fundamental principles must be committed to writing. May these two volumes therefore serve as building stones which I contribute to the common task. The Fortress, Landsberg am Lech.
10
At half-past twelve on the afternoon of November 9th, 1923, those whose names are given below fell in front of the Feldherrnhalle and in the forecourt of the former War Ministry in Munich as loyal believers in the resurrection of their people:
The so-called national authorities refused to allow the dead heroes a common grave. I therefore dedicate to them the first volume of this work, as a common memorial, in order that they, as martyrs to the cause, may be a permanent inspiration to the followers of our Movement. The Fortress, Landsberg am Lech, October 16th, 1924.
12
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15
To-day I consider it a good omen that Destiny appointed Braunau-on-the-Inn to be my birthplace, for that little town is situated just on the frontier between those two German States, the reunion of which seems, at least to us of the younger generation, a task to which we should devote our lives, and in the pursuit of which every possible means should be employed. German-Austria must be restored to the great German Fatherland, and not on economic grounds. Even if the union were a matter of economic indifference, and even if it were to be disadvantageous from the economic standpoint, it still ought to take place. People of the same blood should be in the same Reich. The German people will have no right to engage in a colonial policy until they have brought all their children together in one State. When the territory of the Reich embraces all Germans and proves incapable of assuring them a livelihood, only then can the moral right arise, from the need of the people, to acquire foreign territory. The plough is then the sword, and the tears of war will produce the daily bread for the generations to come. For this reason the little frontier town appeared to me as the symbol of a great task, but in another respect it teaches us a lesson that is applicable to our day. Over a hundred years ago this sequestered spot was the scene of a tragic calamity which affected the whole German nation and will he remembered for ever, at least in the annals of German history. At the time of our Fatherland’s deepest humiliation, a Nürnberg bookseller, Johannes Palm, an uncompromising nationalist and an enemy of the French, was put to death here because he had loved Germany even in her misfortune. He obstinately refused to disclose the names of his associates, or rather the principals who were chiefly responsible for the affair, just as Leo Schlageter did. The former, like the latter, was denounced to the French by a government official, a director of police from Augsburg who won ignoble renown on that occasion and set the example which was to be copied at a later date by the German officials of the Reich under Herr Severing’s regime.
16
In this little town on the Inn, hallowed by the memory of a German martyr a town that was Bavarian by blood but under the rule of the Austrian State, my parents were domiciled towards the end of the last century. My father was a civil servant who fulfilled his duties very conscientiously. My mother looked after the household and lovingly devoted herself to the care of her children of that period I have not retained many memories, because after a few years my father had to leave that frontier town which I had come to love so much and take up a new post farther down the Inn valley, at Passau, therefore, actually in Germany itself. In those days it was the usual lot of an Austrian civil servant to be transferred periodically from one post to another. Not long after coming to Passau my father was transferred to Linz, and while there he retired to live on his pension, but this did not mean that the old gentleman would now rest from his labours. He was the son of a poor cottager, and while still a boy he grew restless and left home. When he was barely thirteen years old he buckled on his satchel and set forth from his native country parish. Despite the dissuasion of villagers who could speak from ‘experience’, he went to Vienna to learn a trade there. This was in the fifties of last century. It was a sore trial, that of deciding to leave home and face the unknown, with three gulden in his pocket but when the boy of thirteen was a lad of seventeen and had passed his apprenticeship examination as a craftsman, he was not content. On the contrary, the persistent economic depression of that period and the constant want and misery strengthened his resolution to give up working at a trade and strive for ‘something higher.’ As a boy it had seemed to him that the position of the parish priest in his native village was the highest in the scale of human attainment, but now that the big city had enlarged his outlook the young man looked up to the dignity of a state official as the highest of all. With the tenacity of one whom misery and trouble had already made old when only half-way through his youth, the young man of seventeen obstinately set out on his new project and stuck to it until he won through. He became a civil servant. He was about twenty-three years old, I think, when he succeeded in making himself what he had resolved to become. Thus he was able to keep, the vow he had made as a poor boy, not to return to his native village until he was ‘somebody.’
17
He had gained his end, but in the village there was nobody who remembered him as a little boy, and the village itself had become strange to him. Now at last, when he was fifty-six years old, he gave up his active career, but he could not bear to be idle for a single day. On the outskirts of the small market-town of Lambach in Upper Austria he bought a farm and tilled it himself. Thus, at the end of a long and hard-working career, he returned to the life which his father had led. It was at this period that I first began to have ideals of my own. I spent a good deal of time scampering about in the open, on the long road from school, and mixing with some of the roughest of the boys, which caused my mother many anxious moments. All this tended to make me something quite the reverse of a stay-at-home. I gave scarcely any serious thought to the question of choosing a vocation in life, but I was certainly quite out of sympathy with the kind of career which my father had followed. I think that an inborn talent for speaking now began to develop and take shape during the more or less strenuous arguments which I used to have with my comrades. I had become a juvenile ringleader who learned well and easily at school, but was rather difficult to manage. In my free time I practised singing in the choir of the monastery church at Lambach, and thus it happened that I was placed in a very favourable position to be emotionally impressed again and again by the magnificent splendour of ecclesiastical ceremonial. What could be more natural for me than to look upon the abbot as representing the highest human ideal worth striving for, just as the position of the humble village priest had appeared so to my father in his own boyhood days? At least that was my idea for a while, but the childish disputes I had with my father did not lead him to appreciate his son’s oratorical gifts in such a way as to see in them a favourable promise for such a career, and so he naturally could not understand the boyish ideas I had in my head at that time. This contradiction in my character made him feel somewhat anxious. As a matter of fact, that transitory yearning after such a vocation soon gave way to hopes that were better suited to my temperament. Browsing among my father’s books, I chanced to come across some publications that dealt with military subjects.
18
One of these publications was a popular history of the Franco-German War of 1870–71. It consisted of two volumes of art illustrated periodical dating from those years. These became my favourite reading. In a little while that great and heroic conflict began to occupy my mind, and from that time onwards I became more and more enthusiastic about everything that was in any way connected with war or military affairs. The story of the Franco-German War had a special significance for me on other grounds also. For the first time, and as yet only in quite a vague way, the question began to present itself: Is there a difference—and if there be, what is it—between the Germans who fought that war, and the other Germans? Why did not Austria also take part in it? Why did not my father and all the others fight in that struggle? Are we not the same as the other Germans? Do we not all belong together? That was the fiat time that this problem began to agitate my small brain, and from the replies that were given to the questions which I asked very tentatively, I was forced to accept the fact, though with a secret envy, that not all Germans had the good luck to belong to Bismarck’s Reich. This was something that I could not understand. It was decided that I should study. Considering my character as a whole, and especially my temperament, my father decided that the classical subjects studied at the Gymnasium were not suited to my natural talents, lie thought that the Realschule would suit me better. My obvious talent for drawing confirmed him in that view, for in his opinion, drawing was a subject too much neglected in the Austrian Gymnasium. Probably also the memory of the hard road which he himself had travelled contributed to make him look upon classical studies as unpractical and accordingly to set little value on them. At the back of his mind he had the idea that his son should also become a government official. Indeed he had decided on that career for me. The difficulties with which he had had to contend in making his own career led him to over-estimate what he had achieved, because this was exclusively the result of his own indefatigable industry and energy. The characteristic pride of the self-made man caused him to cherish the idea that his son should follow the same calling and if possible rise to a higher position in it.
19
Moreover, this idea was strengthened by the consideration that the results of his own life’s industry had placed him in a position to facilitate his son’s advancement in the same profession. He was simply incapable of imagining that I might reject what had meant everything in life to him. My father’s decision was simple, definite, clear and in his eyes, it was something to be taken for granted. A man of such a nature who had become an autocrat by reason of his own hard struggle for existence, could not think of allowing ‘inexperienced’ and irresponsible young people to choose their own careers. To act in such a way, where the future of his own son was concerned, would have been a grave and reprehensible weakness in the exercise ‘of parental authority and responsibility, something utterly incompatible with his characteristic sense of duty.’ Still, he did not have his way. For the first time in my life (I was then eleven years old) I felt myself forced into open opposition. No matter how hard and determined my father might be about putting his own plans and opinions into effect, his son was no less obstinate in refusing to accept ideas on which he set little or no value. I would not become a civil servant. No amount of persuasion and no amount of ‘grave’ warnings could break down that opposition. I would not become a government official, not on any account. All the attempts which my father made to arouse in me a love or liking for that profession, by picturing his own career for me, had only the opposite effect. It nauseated me to think that one day I might be fettered to an office stool, that I could not dispose of my own time, but would be forced to spend the whole of my life filling out forms. One can imagine what kind of thoughts such a prospect awakened in the mind of a boy who was by no means what is called a ‘good boy’ in the current sense of that term. The ease with which I learned my lessons made it possible for me to spend, far more time in the open air than at home. To-day, when my political opponents pry into my life, as far back as the days of my boyhood, with diligent scrutiny so as finally to be able to prove what disreputable tricks this Hitler was, accustomed to play in his young day, I thank Heaven that I can look back on those happy days and find the memory of them helpful.
20
The fields and the woods were then the terrain on which all disputes were fought out. Even attendance at the Realschule could not alter my way of spending my time. But I had now another battle to fight. So long as the paternal plan to make me a state functionary contradicted my own inclinations only in the abstract, the conflict was easy to bear. I could be discreet about expressing my person it views and thus avoid constantly recurrent disputes. My own resolution not to become a government official was sufficient for the time being to put my mind completely at rest. I held on to that resolution inexorably. But the situation became more difficult once I had a positive plan of my own which I could present to my father as a counter-suggestion. This happened when I was twelve years old. How it came about I cannot exactly say now, but one day it became clear to me that I wanted to be a painter—I mean an artist. That I had an aptitude for drawing was an admitted fact. It was even one of the reasons why my father had sent me to the Realschule; but he had never thought of having that talent developed so that I could take up painting as a professional career. Quite the contrary. When, as a result of my renewed refusal to comply with his favourite plan, my father asked me for the first time what I myself really wished to be, the resolution that I had already formed expressed itself almost automatically. For a while my father was speechless. “A painter? An artist?” he exclaimed. He wondered whether I was in a sound state of mind. He thought that he might not have caught my words rightly, or that he had misunderstood what I meant, but when I had explained my ideas to him and he saw how seriously I took them, he opposed them with his characteristic energy. His decision was exceedingly simple and could not be deflected from its course by any consideration of what my own natural qualifications really were. “Artist! Not as long as I live, never.” As the son had inherited some of the father’s obstinacy, along with other qualities, his reply was equally energetic, but, of course, opposed to his, and so the matter stood.
21
My father would not abandon his ‘Never,’ and I became all the more determined in my ‘Nevertheless.’ Naturally the resulting situation was not pleasant. The old gentleman was embittered and indeed so was I, although I really loved him. My father forbade me to entertain any hopes of taking up painting as a profession. I went a step further and declared that I would not study anything else. With such declarations the situation became still more strained, so that the old gentleman decided to assert his parental authority at all costs. This led me to take refuge in silence, but I put my threat into execution. I thought that, once it became clear to my father that I was making no progress at the Realschule, he would be forced to allow me to follow the career I had dreamed of. I do not know whether I calculated rightly or not. Certainly my failure to make progress became apparent in the school. I studied just those subjects that appealed to me, especially those which I thought might be of advantage to me later on as a painter. What did not appear to have any importance from this point of view, or what did not otherwise appeal to me, I completely neglected. My school reports of that time were always in the extremes of good or bad, according to the subject and the interest it had for me. In one column the remark was ‘very good’ or ‘excellent, in another ‘average’ or even ‘below average.’ By far my best subjects were geography and general history. These were my two favourite subjects, and I was top of the class in them. When I look back over so many years and try to judge the results of that experience I find two very significant facts standing out clearly before my mind. Firstly, I became a nationalist. Secondly, I learned to understand and grasp the true meaning of history. The old Austria was a multi-national State. In those days at least, the citizens of the German Reich, taken all in all, could not understand what that fact meant in the everyday life of the individuals within such a State. After the magnificent triumphant march of the victorious armies in the Franco-German War the Germans in the Reich became steadily more and more estranged from the Germans beyond their frontiers, partly because they did not deign to appreciate those other Germans at their, true value or simply because they were incapable of doing so.
22
In thinking of Austria, they were prone to confuse the decadent dynasty and the people which was essentially very sound. The Germans in the Reich did not realise that if the Germans in Austria had not been of the best racial stock they could never have given the stamp of their own character to an Empire of fifty-two millions, so definitely that in Germany itself the idea arose—though quite erroneously—that Austria was a German State. That was an error which had dire consequences; but all the same it was a magnificent testimony to the character of the ten million Germans in the Ostmark. Only very few Germans in the Reich itself had an idea of the bitter struggle which those Eastern Germans had to carry on daily for the preservation of their German language, their German schools and their German character. Only to-day, when a tragic fate has wrested several millions of our kinsfolk from the Reich and has forced them to live under the rule of the stranger, dreaming of that common fatherland towards which all their yearnings are directed and struggling to uphold at least the sacred right of using their mother tongue—only now have the wider circles of the German population come to realise what it means to have to fight for the traditions of one’s race. So at last, perhaps there are people here and there who can assess the greatness of that German spirit which animated the old Ostmark and enabled those people, left entirely dependent on their own resources, to defend the Reich against the Orient for several centuries and subsequently to hold the frontiers of the German language by means of a guerilla warfare of attrition, at a time when the German Reich was sedulously cultivating an interest in colonies but not in its own flesh and blood at its very threshold. What has happened always and everywhere, in every kind of struggle, happened also in the language fight which was carried on in the old Austria. There were three groups the fighters, those who were luke-warm, and the traitors. This sifting process began even in the schools and it is worth noting that the struggle for the language was waged perhaps in its bitterest form around the school, because this was the nursery where the seeds had to be tended which were to spring up and form the future generation.
23
The tactical objective of the fight was the winning over of the child, and it was to the child that the first rallying cry was addressed, “German boy, do not forget that you are a German,” and “Remember, little girl, that one day you must be a German mother.” Those who know something of the juvenile spirit can understand how youth will always lend a ready ear to such a rallying cry. In many ways the young people led the struggle, fighting in their own manner and with their own weapons. They refused to sing non-German songs. The greater the efforts made to win them away from their German allegiance, the more they exalted the glory of their German heroes. They stinted themselves in buying sweetmeats, so that they might spare their pennies to help the war fund of their elders. They were incredibly alert to the significance of what the non-German teachers said and they contradicted in unison. They wore the forbidden emblems of their own nation and were happy when penalized, or even physically punished. In their own way, they faithfully mirrored their elders, and often their attitude was finer and more sincere. Thus it was that at a comparatively early age I took part in the struggle which the nationalities were waging against one another in the old Austria. When collections were made for the youth Mark German League and the School League we wore cornflowers and black-red-gold colours to express our loyalty. We greeted one another with Heil! and instead of the Austrian anthem we sang our own Deutschland uber Alles, despite warnings and penalties. Thus the youth was being educated politically, at a time when the citizens of a so-called national State for the most part knew little of their own nationality except the language. Of course, I did not belong to the luke-warm section. Within a little while I had become an ardent ‘German National,’ which had a different meaning from the party significance attached to that term to-day. I developed very rapidly in the nationalist direction, and by the time I was fifteen years old, I had come to understand the distinction between dynastic patriotism and völkisch nationalism, my sympathies being entirely in favour of the latter even in those days.
24
Such a preference may not perhaps be clearly intelligible to those who have never taken the trouble to study the internal conditions that prevailed in Austria under the Habsburg monarchy. In Austria it was world-history as taught in schools that served to sow the seeds of this development, for Austrian history, as such, is practically non-existent. The fate of this State was closely bound up with the existence and development of Germany as a whole, so that a division of history into German history and Austrian history is practically inconceivable. And indeed it was only when the German people came to be divided between two States that this division began to make German history. The insignia of a former imperial sovereignty which were still preserved in Vienna appeared to act as a magic guarantee of an everlasting bond of union. When the Habsburg State crumbled to pieces in 1918 the Austrian Germans instinctively raised an outcry for union with their German mother-country. That was the voice of unanimous yearning in the hearts of the whole people for a return to the unforgotten home of their fathers. But such a general yearning could not be explained except by the historical training through which the individual Austrian Germans had passed. It was a spring that never dried up. Especially in times of distraction and forgetfulness its quiet voice was a reminder of the past, bidding the people to look beyond the mere well-being of the moment to a new future. The teaching of universal history in what are called the higher grade schools is still very unsatisfactory. Few teachers realise that the purpose of teaching history is not the memorizing of some dates and facts, that it does not matter whether a boy knows the exact date of a battle or the birthday of some marshal or other, nor when the crown of his fathers was placed on the brow of some insignificant monarch. That is not what matters. To study history means to search for and discover the forces that are the causes of those results which appear before our eyes as historical events. The art of reading and studying consists in remembering the essentials and forgetting what is inessential.
25
Probably my whole future life was determined by the fact that I had a teacher of history who understood, as few others understand, how to make this viewpoint prevail in teaching and in examining. This teacher was Dr. Leopold Poetsch, of the Realschule at Linz. He was the ideal personification of the qualities necessary to a teacher of history in the sense I have mentioned above. An elderly gentleman with a decisive manner but a kindly heart, he was a very attractive speaker and, was able to inspire us with his own enthusiasm. Even to-day I cannot recall without emotion that venerable personality whose enthusiastic exposition of history so often made us entirely forget the present and allow ourselves to be transported as if by magic into the past. He penetrated through the dim mist of thousands of years and transformed the historical memory of the dead, past into a living reality. When we listened to him we became afire with enthusiasm and we were sometimes moved even to tears. It was still more fortunate that this master was able not only to illustrate the past by examples from the present, but from the past, he was also able to draw a lesson for the present. He understood better than any other the everyday problems that were then agitating our minds. The national fervour which we fell in our own small way was utilised by him as an instrument of our education, inasmuch as he often appealed to our national sense of honour, for in that way he maintained order and held our attention much more easily than he could have done by any other means. It was because I had such a master that history became my favourite subject. As a natural consequence, but without the conscious connivance of my teacher, I then and there became a young rebel. But who could have studied German history under such a teacher and not become an enemy of that State whose rulers exercised such, a disastrous influence on the destinies of the German nation? Finally, how could one remain a faithful subject of the House of Habsburg, whose past history and present conduct proved it to be ready, ever and always, to betray the interests of the German people for the sake of paltry personal interests? Did not we, as youngsters, fully realise that the House of Habsburg did not, and could not, have any love for us Germans? What history taught us about the policy followed by the House of Habsburg was corroborated by our own everyday experiences.
26
In the north and in the south the poison of foreign races was eating into the body of our people, and even Vienna was steadily becoming more and more a non-German city. The ‘Imperial House’ favoured the Czechs on every possible occasion. Indeed, it was the hand of the goddess of eternal justice and inexorable retribution that caused the most deadly enemy of Germanism in Austria, the Archduke Franz Ferdinand, to fall by the very bullets which he himself had helped to cast. He was the prime mover in the work, begun by the ruling classes, of turning Austria into a Slav State. The burdens laid on the shoulders of the German people were enormous and the sacrifices of money and blood which they had to make were incredibly heavy. Yet anybody who was not quite blind must have seen that it was all in vain. What affected us most bitterly was the consciousness of the fact that this whole system was morally sanctioned by the alliance with Germany, whereby the slow extirpation of Germanism in the old Austrian Monarchy seemed in some way to be more or less countenanced by Germany herself. Habsburg hypocrisy, which endeavoured outwardly to make the people believe that Austria still remained a German State, increased the feeling of hatred against the Imperial House and at the same time aroused a spirit of rebellion and contempt. Only in the German Reich itself did those who were then its rulers fail to understand what all this meant. As if struck blind, they stood beside a corpse and in the very symptoms of decomposition they believed that they recognised the signs of renewed vitality. In that unhappy alliance between the young German Empire and the illusory Austrian State lay the germ of the World War and also of the final collapse. In subsequent passages of this book I shall go to the root of this problem. Suffice it here to say that in the very early years of my youth I came to certain conclusions which I have never abandoned, Indeed I became more profoundly convinced of them as the years passed. They were, firstly, that the dissolution of the Austrian Empire was a preliminary condition for the safeguarding of German nationality and culture; further, that national feeling is by no means identical with dynastic patriotism;
27
and, above all, that the House of Habsburg was destined to bring misfortune on the German nation. As a logical consequence of these convictions, there arose in me a feeling of intense love for my German-Austrian home and a profound hatred for the Austrian State. The way of looking at history which was developed in me through my study of history at school never left me afterwards. World-history became more and more an inexhaustible source for the understanding of contemporary historical events, which means politics. Therefore, I would not ‘learn’ history, but let history teach me. A precocious revolutionary in politics, I was no less a precocious revolutionary in art. At that time, the provincial capital of Upper Austria had a theatre which, relatively speaking, was not bad. Almost everything was produced there. When I was twelve years old I saw a performance of Wilhelm Tell there. That was my first experience of the theatre. Some months later I attended a performance of Lohengrin, the first opera I had ever heard. I was fascinated at once. My youthful enthusiasm for the Bayreuth Master knew no bounds. Again and again I was drawn to hear his operas; and to-day I consider it a great piece of luck that these modest productions in the little provincial city prepared the way and made it possible for me to appreciate better productions later on. All this helped to intensify my profound aversion for the career that my father had chosen for me, and this dislike became especially strong as the rough corners of youthful boorishness were worn down, a process which, in my case, was fraught with a good deal of pain. I became more and more convinced that I should never be happy as a government official, and now that the Realschule had recognised and acknowledged my aptitude for drawing, my own resolution became all the stronger. Imprecations and threats had no longer any power to change it. I wanted to become a painter and no power on earth could force me to become a civil servant. The only peculiar feature of, the situation now was that as I grew bigger I became more and more interested in architecture. I considered this fact as a natural complement of my talent for painting and I rejoiced inwardly that the sphere of my artistic interests was thus enlarged.
28
I had no notion that one day it would have to be otherwise. The question of my career was decided much sooner than I could have foreseen. When I was in my thirteenth year my father was suddenly taken from us. He was still in robust health when a stroke of apoplexy painlessly ended his earthly sojourn and left us all deeply bereaved. His most ardent longing was to be able to help his son to advance in a career and thus save him from the harsh ordeal that he himself had had to undergo, but it appeared then as if that longing were in vain. And yet, though he himself was not conscious of it, he had sown the seeds of a future which neither of us foresaw at that time. At first nothing was changed outwardly. My mother felt it her duty to continue my education in accordance with my father’s wishes, which meant that she would have me study for the civil service. For my own part, I was even more firmly determined than ever before that in no circumstances would I become a government official. The curriculum and teaching methods followed in the higher grade school were so far removed from my ideals that I became profoundly indifferent. Illness suddenly came to my assistance. Within a few weeks it decided my future and put an end to the long-standing family conflict. My lungs became so seriously affected that the doctor advised my mother very strongly not in any circumstances to allow me to take up a career which would necessitate working in an office. He ordered that I should give up attending the Realschule, for a year at least. What I had secretly desired for such a long time, and had persistently fought for, now suddenly became reality without effort on my part. Influenced by my illness, my mother agreed that I should leave the Realschule and attend the Academy. Those were happy days, which appeared to me almost like a dream; and they were doomed to remain only a dream. Two years later my mother’s death put a brutal end to all my fine projects. She succumbed to a long and painful illness which, from the very beginning, permitted little hope of recovery. Though expected, her death came as a terrible blow to me. I respected my father, but I loved my mother.
29
Poverty and stern reality forced me to decide promptly. The meagre resources of the family had been almost entirely used up through my mother’s severe illness. The allowance which came to me as an orphan was not enough for the bare necessities of life. Somehow or other, I would have to earn my own bread. With my clothes and linen packed in a valise and with an indomitable resolution in my heart, I left for Vienna. I hoped to forestall Fate, as my father had done fifty years before, I was determined to become ‘somebody’ but certainly not a civil servant.
30
31
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I had, however, one misgiving. It seemed to me that I was better qualified for drawing than for painting, especially in the various branches of architectural drawing. At the same time my interest in architecture was constantly increasing, and I advanced in this direction at a still more rapid pace after my first visit to Vienna, which lasted two weeks. I was not yet sixteen years old. I went to the Hof Museum to study the paintings in the art gallery there; but the building itself captured almost all my interest. From early morning until late at night I spent all my time visiting the various public buildings, and it was the buildings themselves that were always the principal attraction for me. For hours and hours, I could stand in wonderment before the Opera and the Parliament House. The whole Ring Strasse had a magic effect upon me, as if it were a scene from the Arabian Nights. And now here I was for the second time in this beautiful city, impatiently waiting to hear the result of the entrance examination, but proudly confident that I had got through. I was so convinced of my success that when the news that I had failed to pass was brought to me, it struck me like a bolt from the blue. Yet the fact was that I had failed. I went to see the Rector and asked him to explain the reasons why they refused to accept me as a student in the general School of Painting, which was part of the Academy. He said that the sketches which I had brought with me showed unquestionably that painting was not what I was suited for, but that the same sketches gave clear indications of my aptitude for architectural designing. Therefore, the School of Painting did not come into question for me, but rather the School of Architecture, which also formed part of the Academy. They found it hard to believe that I had never been to a school for architecture and had never received any instruction in architectural designing. When I left the magnificent Hansen building, in the Schiller Platz, I was quite crestfallen. I felt at odds with myself for the first time in my young life, for what I had heard about my capabilities now appeared to me as a lightning flash which clearly revealed a dualism under which I had been suffering for a long time, but for which I had hitherto been unable to account.
33
Within a few days I myself also knew that I ought to become an architect, but of course the way was very difficult. I was now forced bitterly to rue my former conduct in neglecting and despising certain subjects at the Realschule. Before attending courses at the School of Architecture at the Academy it was necessary to attend the Technical College, but a necessary qualification for entrance to this College was a matriculation certificate gained at the higher grade school, which I did not possess. As far as one could foresee my dream of following an artistic calling seemed beyond the limits of possibility. After the death of my mother I went to Vienna for the third time. This visit was destined to last several years. Since I had been there before, I had recovered my old calm and resoluteness. My former self-assurance had come back, and I had my eyes steadily fixed on the goal. I was determined to be an architect. Obstacles are placed across our path in life, not to be boggled at, but to be surmounted, and I was fully determined to surmount these obstacles, having constantly before my mind the picture of my father, who had raised himself by his own efforts to the position of civil servant though he was the poor son of a village shoemaker. I had a better start, and the possibility of winning through was greater. At that time my lot in life seemed to me a harsh one; but to-day I see in it the wise workings of Providence. Adversity had me in its grip and often threatened to smash me; but the will grew stronger as the obstacles increased, and finally the will triumphed. I am thankful for that period of my life, because it hardened me and enabled me to be hard, and I am even more thankful because I appreciate the fact that I was thus saved from the emptiness of a life of ease and that a mother’s darling was taken from comfortable surroundings and handed over to Adversity as to a new mother. Though I then rebelled against it as too hard a fate, I am grateful that I was cast, against my wishes, into a world of misery and poverty and thus came to know the people for whom I was afterwards to fight.
34
It was during this period that my eyes were opened to two perils, the names of which I scarcely knew hitherto and had no notion whatsoever of their terrible significance for the existence of the German people. These two perils were Marxism and Judaism. For many people the name of Vienna signifies innocent jollity, a festive place for happy mortals. For me, alas, it is a living memory of the saddest period of my life. Even to-day, the mention of that city arouses only gloomy thoughts in my mind. The very name of that Phaeacian town spells five years of poverty—five years in which, first as a casual labourer and then as a poor painter, I had to earn my daily bread, and a meagre morsel indeed it was, not even sufficient to still the hunger which I constantly felt. That hunger was the faithful companion which never left me and shared in everything I did. Every book that I bought meant renewed hunger, and every visit I paid to the opera meant the intrusion of that inalienable companion during the days that followed. I was always struggling with my unsympathetic friend, and yet during that time I learned more than I had ever learned before. Apart from my architectural studies and rare visits to the opera, for which I had to deny myself food, I had no pleasure in life except my books. I read a great deal then, and I pondered deeply over what I read. All my free time after work was devoted exclusively to study. Thus, within a few years, I was able to acquire a stock of knowledge, which I find useful even to-day. But, over and above that, there formed in my mind during those years, an impression of life and a Weltanschauung. These became the granite basis of my conduct. I have had to add but little to what I then learned and made my own, and I have had to alter none of it. On the contrary, I am firmly convinced to-day that, generally speaking, it is in youth that men lay the essential groundwork of their creative thought, wherever that creative thought exists. I make a distinction between the wisdom of age—which can only arise from the greater profundity and foresight that are based on the experiences of a long life—and the creative genius of youth, which blossoms out in thought and ideas with inexhaustible fertility, without being able to digest these immediately, because of their very superabundance.
35
These furnish the building materials and plans for the future, and it is from them that age takes the stones and builds the edifice, unless the so-called wisdom of the years has smothered the creative genius of youth. The life which I had hitherto led at home with my parents differed lithe from that of many others. I looked forward without apprehension to the morrow, and there was no such thing as a social problem to be faced. Those among whom I passed my young days belonged to the small bourgeois class. Therefore, it was a world that had very little contact with the world of genuine manual labourers, for, though at first this may appear astonishing, the gulf which separates that class, which is by no means economically well-off, from the manual labouring class is often deeper than people think. The reason for this division, which we may almost call enmity, lies in the fear that dominates a social group which has only just risen above the level of the manual labourer—a fear lest it may fall back into its old condition or at least be classed with the labourers. Moreover, there is something repulsive in remembering the cultural indigence of that lower class and their rough manners with one another; so that people who are only on the first rung of the social ladder find it unbearable to be forced to have any contact with the cultural level and standard of living beyond which they have passed. Thus, it happens that very often those who belong to what can really be called the upper classes find it much easier than do the upstarts to descend to and intermingle with their fellow-beings on the lowest social level, for, by the word upstart. I mean everyone who has raised himself through his own efforts to a social level higher than that to which he formerly belonged. In the case of such a person the hard struggle through which he has passed often destroys his innate human sympathy. His own fight for existence kills his sensibility to the misery of those who have been left behind. From this point of view Fate had been kind to me. Circumstances forced me to return to that world of poverty and economic insecurity above which my father had raised himself in his early days, and thus the blinkers of a narrow petit bourgeois education were torn from my eyes. Now for the first time I learned to know men and I learned to distinguish between an outer polish or coarse manners and the real inner nature of people.
36
At the beginning of the century Vienna already ranked among those cities where social conditions were iniquitous. Dazzling riches and loathsome destitution were to be found side by side. In the centre and in the Inner City one felt the pulse-beat of an Empire which had a population of fifty-two millions, with all the perilous charm of a State made up of multiple nationalities. The dazzling splendour of the Court acted like a magnet to the wealth and intelligence of the whole Empire, and this attraction was further strengthened by the centralising policy of the Habsburg monarchy itself. This centralising policy was necessary in order to hold together that hotch-potch of heterogeneous nationalities, but the result of it was an extraordinary concentration of higher officials in the city, which was at one and the same time the metropolis and imperial residence. Vienna was not merely the political and intellectual centre of the Danubian monarchy; it was also the industrial centre. In contrast to the vast number of military officers of high rank state officials, artists and scientists, there was the still vaster army of workers. Abject poverty rubbed shoulders with the wealth of the aristocracy and the merchant class. Thousands of unemployed loitered in front of the palaces on the Ring Strasse, and below that Via Triumphalis of the old Austria, the homeless huddled together in the murk and filth of the canals. There was hardly any other German city in which the social problem could be studied better than in Vienna. But here I must utter a warning against the illusion that this problem can be ‘studied’ from a higher social level. The man who has never been in the clutches of that gushing viper can never know what its poison is. An attempt to study it in any other way will result only in superficial talk and sentimental delusions. Both are harmful; the first, because it can never go to the root of the problem, the second, because it evades the question entirely. I do not know which is the more nefarious—to ignore social distress, as do the majority of those who have been favoured by fortune and those who have risen in the social scale through their own efforts, or the equally supercilious and often tactless, but always genteel, condescension displayed by people who have a craze for being charitable and who plume themselves on ‘sympathising with the people.’
37
Of course such persons sin to a degree which they, with their lack of instinctive understanding, are, unable to realise, and thus they are astonished to find that the social conscience on which they pride themselves never produces any results, but often causes their good intentions to be resented, and then they talk of the ingratitude of the people. Such persons are slow to learn that social activity is something very different and that they cannot expect gratitude since they are not distributing favours, but establishing rights. I was protected against the temptation to study the social question in the way just mentioned, for the simple reason that I was forced to suffer myself. It was, therefore, not a question of studying the problem objectively, but rather one of testing its effects on myself. Though the rabbit came through the ordeal of the experiment, this must not be taken as evidence of its harmlessness. When I try to-day to recall the succession of impressions received during that time I find that I can do so only with approximate completeness. Here I shall describe only the more essential impressions and those which personally affected and often staggered me, and I shall mention the, few lessons I learned from this experience. At that time it was for the most part not very difficult to find work, because I had to seek work not as a skilled tradesman, but as a so-called extra-hand and had to be ready to take any job that turned up by chance, just for the sake of earning my daily bread. Thus I adopted the same attitude as, all those emigrants who shake the dust of Europe from their feet, with the cast-iron determination to lay the foundations of a new existence in the New World and acquire for themselves a new home. Liberated from all the paralysing prejudices of class and calling, environment and tradition, they enter any service that is open to them, accepting any work that comes their way, filled more and more with the idea that honest work never disgraced anybody, no matter what kind it may be. So I was resolved to enter what was for me a new world and make my way. I soon found out that there was always some kind of work to be got, but I also learned that it could just as quickly and easily be lost. The uncertainty of being able to earn a regular daily livelihood soon appeared to me the gloomiest feature in this new life upon which I had entered.
38
Although the skilled worker was not so frequently thrown idle as the unskilled worker, yet the former was by no means protected against the same fate; because though he might not have to face hunger as a result of unemployment due to the lack of demand on the labour market, the lock-out and the strike deprived the skilled worker of the chance to earn his bread. The element of uncertainty in earning one’s daily bread causes far-reaching and serious repercussions throughout the whole social-economic structure. The country lad who migrates to the big city feels attracted by what has been described as easy work (which it may be in reality) and shorter working hours and especially by the magic glamour of the big city. Accustomed in the country to earn a steady wage, he has been taught not to quit his former post until a new one is at least in view. As there is a great scarcity of agricultural labour, the probability of long unemployment in the country is very slight. It is mistake to assume that the lad who leaves the countryside for the town is not made of such sound material as those who remain at home to work on the land. On the contrary, experience shows that it is the more healthy and more vigorous that emigrate, and not the reverse. Among these emigrants I include not merely those who emigrate to America, but also the farm-hand who decides to leave his native village and migrate to the big city, where he will be a stranger. He is ready to take the risk of an uncertain fate. In most cases, he comes to town with a little money in his pocket and for the first few days he is not discouraged if he should not have the good fortune to find work, but if he finds a job and then loses it in a little while, the case is much worse. To find work anew, especially in winter, is often difficult and indeed sometimes impossible. For the first few weeks life is still bearable. He receives his out-ofwork money from his trade-union and is thus enabled to carry on. But when the last of his own money is gone and his trade-union ceases to pay out because of prolonged unemployment, then comes real distress. He now loiters about and is hungry. Often he pawns or sells the last of his belongings.
39
His clothes begin to get shabby and with the increasing shabbiness of his outward appearance he descends to a lower social level and, in addition to his physical misery, now mixes with a class of human beings through whom his mind becomes poisoned. When he has nowhere to sleep, and if this happens in winter, as is very often the case, he is in dire distress. Finally he gets work, but the same story repeats itself a second time, then a third time, and now it is probably much worse. Little by little, he becomes indifferent to this everlasting insecurity. Finally he grows used to the repetition. Thus, even a man who is normally of industrious habits grows careless in his whole attitude towards life and gradually becomes an instrument in the hands of unscrupulous people who exploit him for the sake of their own ignoble aims. He has been so often thrown out of employment through no fault of his own that he is now more or less indifferent as to whether the strike in which he takes part is for the purpose of securing his economic rights or is aimed at the destruction of the State, the whole social order and even civilisation itself. Though the idea of going on strike may not be to his liking, yet he joins in out of sheer indifference. I saw this process happen before my eyes in thousands of cases and the longer I observed it, the greater became my dislike for that mammoth city which greedily attracts men to its bosom, in order to break them mercilessly in the end. When they came they still felt themselves in communion with their own people at home; if they remained that tie was broken. I was so buffeted about by life in the metropolis that I myself tasted the physical experience of such a lot and felt the effects of it in my own soul. One other thing became clear to me. The sudden change from work to idleness and vice versa and the constant fluctuation thus caused between earning and expenditure finally destroyed the sense of thrift in many people and also the habit of regulating expenditure in an intelligent way. The body appeared to grow accustomed to vicissitude, eating heartily in good times and going hungry in bad. Indeed hunger shatters all plans for regulating expenditure in better times when employment has again been found. The reason for this is that the deprivations which the unemployed worker has to endure must be compensated for psychologically by a persistent mental mirage in which he imagines himself eating heartily once again, and this dream develops into such a longing that it turns into a morbid impulse to cast off all self-restraint when work and wages turn up again.
40
Therefore, the moment work is found anew he forgets to regulate the expenditure of his earnings but spends them to the full without thinking of the morrow. This leads to confusion even in the little weekly housekeeping budget, because the expenditure is not carefully planned. At first, the earnings will last perhaps for five days instead of seven; on subsequent occasions they will last only for three; as the habit grows, the earnings will last scarcely for a day, and finally they will disappear in one night. Often there are a wife and children at home, and in many cases it happens that these become infected by such a way of living, especially if the husband is good to them and loves them in his own way and according to his own lights. Then the week’s earnings are spent in common at home within two or three days. The family eats and drinks together as long as the money lasts and at the end of the week they hunger together. Then the wife wanders about furtively in the neighbourhood, borrows, a little and runs up small debts with the, shopkeepers, in an effort to pull through the lean days towards the end of the week. They sit down together to the midday meal, with only meagre fare on the table and often even nothing to eat. They wait for the corning pay-day, talking of it and making plans; and while they are thus hungry they dream of the plenty that is to come, and so the little children become acquainted with misery in their early years. The evil culminates when the husband goes his own way from the beginning and the wife protests, simply out of love for the children. Then there are quarrels and bad feeling and the husband takes to drink as he becomes more and more estranged from his wife. He now becomes drunk every Saturday. Fighting for her own existence and that of the children, the wife has to dog his footsteps on the road from the factory to the tavern in order to get a few shillings from him on pay-day. Then when he finally comes home, maybe on the Sunday or the Monday, having parted with his last pence, terrible scenes take place. I have had actual experience of all this in hundreds of cases. At first I was disgusted and indignant, but later on I came to recognise the whole tragedy of their misfortune and to understand the profound causes of it.
41
They were the unhappy victims of evil circumstances. Housing conditions were very bad at that time. In Vienna manual labourers lived in surroundings of appalling misery. I shudder even to-day when I think of the woeful dens in which people dwelt, the night-shelters and the slums, and all the tenebrous spectacles of ordure, loathsome filth and wickedness. What will happen one day when hordes of emancipated slaves come forth from these dens of misery to swoop down on their unthinking fellows? For unthinking they certainly are. Unthinkingly they allow things to go on as they are, little, dreaming, in their insensibility, that the day of reckoning must inevitably come, unless Fate is appeased betimes. To-day I thank Providence for having sent me to, such a school. There I could not refuse to take an interest in matters that did not please me. This school soon taught me a profound lesson. In order not to despair completely of the people among whom I then lived I had to differentiate between their outward appearance and their way of living, on the one hand, and the reasons for their development, on the other. Then I could bear everything without discouragement, for those who emerged from all this misfortune and misery, from this filth and outward degradation, were not human beings as such, but rather the lamentable results of lamentable laws. In my own life similar hardships prevented me from giving way to a pitying sentimentality at the sight of these degraded products which had finally resulted from the pressure of circumstances. The sentimental attitude would have been the wrong one to adopt. Even in those days I already saw that there was a two-fold method by which alone it would be possible to bring about an amelioration of these conditions, namely, to awaken a profound sense of social responsibility for the creation of a better basis for our future development, combined with a ruthless determination to prune away all incorrigible outgrowths. Just as Nature concentrates her attention, not on the preservation of what already exists, but on the selective breeding of offspring in order to carry on the species, so in human life also it is less a matter of artificially improving the existing generation (which, owing to human characteristics, is impossible in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred), but more of securing from the very start a better road for future development.
42
During my struggle for existence in Vienna I perceived, very clearly that the aim of all social activity must never be merely charitable relief, which is ridiculous and useless, but it must rather be a means to find a way of eliminating the fundamental deficiencies in our economic and cultural life, deficiencies which necessarily bring about the degradation of the individual or at least lead him towards such degradation. The difficulty of employing any means, even the most drastic, to overcome the hostility towards the State prevailing among certain criminal classes is largely due to an attitude of uncertainty regarding the inner motives and causes of this contemporary phenomenon. The reasons for this uncertainty are to be found in a sense of guilt for having permitted this tragedy of degradation. That feeling paralyses every serious and firm resolve and so contributes to the vacillating, and therefore weak and ineffectual, application of even those measures which are indispensable for self-preservation. When an age is no longer burdened with its own consciousness of blame in this regard, then and only then, will it have that inner tranquillity and outer strength necessary to cut off drastically and ruthlessly all parasite growth and root out the weeds. Because the Austrian State had almost no sense of social right or social legislation its inability to abolish those evil outgrowths was manifest. I do not know what appalled me most at that time; the economic misery of those who were, then my companions, their crude customs and morals, or the low level of their culture. How often does our bourgeoisie rise up in moral indignation on hearing from the mouth of some pitiable tramp that it is all the same to him whether he be a German or not, and that he will feel at home wherever he can get enough to keep body and soul together. They bewail such a lack of ‘national pride’ and express their horror at such sentiments. But how many people really ask themselves why it is that their own sentiments are better? How many of them understand that their natural pride in being members of so favoured a nation arises from the innumerable succession of instances they have encountered which remind them of the greatness of their country and their nation in all spheres of artistic and cultural life? How many of them realise that pride in their country is largely dependent on knowledge of its greatness in all those spheres?
43
Do our bourgeois circles ever think what a ridiculously meagre share the people have in that knowledge which is a necessary prerequisite for the feeling of pride in one’s country? It cannot be objected here that in other countries similar conditions exist and that nevertheless the working classes in those countries have remained patriotic. Even if that were so, it would be no excuse for our negligent, attitude, but it is not so. What we call chauvinistic education—in the case of the French people, for example is only the excessive exaltation of the greatness of France in all spheres of culture or, as the French say, civilisation. The French boy is not educated on purely objective principles. Wherever the importance of the political and cultural greatness of his country is concerned, he is taught in the most subjective way imaginable. Education ought always to be on broad, general lines and these ought to be deeply engraved, by constant repetition if necessary, on the memories and feelings of the people. In our case, however, we are not merely guilty of sins of omission, but also of positively perverting the little which some individuals had the luck to learn at school. The rats that poison our body politic gnaw from the hearts and memories of the broad masses even that little which distress and misery have left. Let the reader try to picture the following: There is a lodging in a cellar and this lodging consists of two damp rooms. In these rooms a workman and his family live seven people in all. Let us assume that one of the children is a boy of three. That is the age at which children, first become conscious of the impressions which they receive. In the case of highly gifted people traces of the impressions received in those early years remain in the memory up to an advanced age. Now, the narrowness and congestion of those living quarters are not conducive to pleasant relations and thus quarrels and fits of mutual anger arise. These people can hardly be said to live with one another, but rather on top of one another. The small misunderstandings which disappear of themselves in a home where there is enough space for people to get away from one another for a while, here become the source of chronic disputes.
44
As far as the children are concerned the situation is tolerable from this point of view. In such conditions, they are constantly quarrelling with one another, but the quarrels are quickly and easily forgotten, but when the parents fall out with one another daily bickerings often develop into rudeness; such as cannot be adequately imagined. The results of such experiences must become apparent later on in the children. One must have practical experience of such a milieu in order to be able to picture the state of affairs that arises from such mutual recriminations when the father assaults the mother and maltreats her in a fit of drunken rage. At the age of six the unfortunate child begins to be aware of sordid facts which an adult would find revolting infected with moral poison, undernourished in body and with its poor little head alive with vermin, the young ‘citizen’ goes to the primary school. With difficulty he barely learns to read and write. There is no possibility of learning any lessons at home. On the contrary, the father and mother themselves talk before the children in the most disparaging way about the teacher and the school and they are much more inclined to insult the teachers than to put their offspring across their knee and knock sound reason into him. What the little fellow hears at home does not tend to increase his respect for his human surroundings. Here nothing good is said of human nature as a whole and every institution, from the school to the government, is reviled. No matter what the subject, religion or morals, the State or the social order, they rail against them all and drag them down into the dirt. When the lad leaves school, at the age of fourteen, it would be difficult to say what are the most striking features of his character, incredible ignorance in so far as real knowledge is concerned or cynical impudence combined with an attitude towards morality which is really startling in one so young. What position can a person fill in the world which he is about to enter, if to him nothing is sacred, if he has never come into contact with anything noble but, on the contrary, has been intimately acquainted with the lowest kind of human existence? The child of three has got into the habit of reviling all authority by the time he is fifteen. He has been acquainted only with moral filth and vileness, everything being excluded that might stimulate his thoughts towards higher things.
45
Now this young specimen of humanity enters the school of life. He leads the same kind of life which was exemplified for him by his father during his childhood. He loiters about the streets and comes home at all hours. He even blackguards that broken-hearted being who gave him birth. He curses God and the world and finally ends up in a reformatory for young people where he acquires the final polish, and his bourgeois contemporaries are astonished at the lack of ‘patriotic enthusiasm’ which this young ‘citizen’ displays. Day after day the bourgeois world sees how poison is spread among the people through the medium of the theatre, the cinema, gutter journalism and obscene books, and yet they are astonished at the deplorable ‘moral standards’ the ‘lack of national feeling’ among the masses—as if the overdone sentimentality of the cinema, rubbishy papers and suchlike could lay a foundation for recognition of the greatness of one’s country, apart entirely from the earlier education which the individual has received. I then came to understand, quickly and thoroughly, what I had never been aware of before, namely, that the question of ‘nationalizing’ a people is first and foremost one of establishing sound social conditions which will furnish the foundation necessary for the education of the individual, for only when family upbringing and school education have inculcated upon the mind of the individual a knowledge of the cultural and economic and, above all, of the political greatness of his own country—then, and then only, will it be possible for him to feel proud of being a citizen of that country. I can fight only for something that I love. I can love only what I respect, and in order to respect a thing I must at least have some knowledge of it. As soon as my interest in social questions was once awakened I began to study them thoroughly. A new and hitherto unknown world was thus revealed to me. In the years 1909–10, I had so far improved my position that I no longer had to earn my daily bread as a manual labourer. I was now working independently in a small way, as a painter in water colours. This métier was a poor one indeed as far as earnings were concerned, for these were only sufficient to pay for the bare necessities of life, yet it had an interest for me, in view of the profession to which I aspired.
46
Moreover, when I came home in the evenings, I was now no longer dead-tired as formerly, when I used to be unable to open a book without falling asleep almost immediately. My present occupation was, therefore, in line with the profession I aimed at for the future. Moreover, I was master of my own time and could arrange my working-hours better than formerly. I painted in order to earn my bread, and I studied because I liked it. Thus I was able to acquire that theoretical knowledge of the social problem which was a necessary complement to what I was learning through actual experience. I studied all the books which I could find that dealt with this question and I thought deeply on what I read. I think that the people among whom I then lived considered me an eccentric person. Besides my interest in the social question I naturally devoted myself with enthusiasm to the study of architecture. Side by side with music, I considered it queen of the arts. To study it was for me not work but pleasure. I could read or draw into the small hours of the morning without ever getting tired, and I became more and more confident that my dream of a brilliant future would come true, even though I should have to wait long years for its fulfilment. I was firmly convinced that one day I should make a name for myself as an architect. The fact that, side by side with my professional studies, I took the greatest interest in everything that had to do with politics did not seem to me to signify anything of great importance. On the contrary, I looked upon this practical interest in politics merely as part of an elementary obligation that devolves on every thinking man. Those who have no understanding of the political world around them have no right to criticise or complain. On political questions, therefore, I still continued to read and study a great deal, but ‘reading’ had probably a different significance for me from that which it has for the average run of our so-called ‘intellectuals.’ I know people who read interminably, book after book, page after page, and yet I should not call them ‘well-read.’ Of course they ‘know’ an immense amount, but their brain seems incapable of assorting and classifying the material which they have gathered, from books.
47
They have not the faculty of distinguishing between what is of value and what is worthless in a book, in order that they may retain the former in their minds, and if possible, skip over the latter while reading or, if that be not possible, when once read, throw it overboard as useless ballast. Reading is not an end in itself, but a means to an end. Its chief purpose is to help towards filling in the framework which is made up of the talents and capabilities that each individual possesses. Thus each one procures for himself the implements and materials necessary for the fulfilment of his calling in life, no matter whether this be the elementary task of earning one’s daily bread or a career taken up in response to a higher call. Such is the first purpose of reading, and the second purpose is to give us a general knowledge of the world in which we live. In both cases, however, the material which we have acquired through reading must not be stored up in the memory on a plan that corresponds to the successive chapters of the book, but each little piece of knowledge thus gained must be treated as if it were a little stone to be inserted into a mosaic, so that it finds its proper place among all the other pieces and particles that help to form a general world-picture in the brain of the reader. Otherwise, only a confused jumble of chaotic notions will result from all reading, and this jumble is not merely useless, but it also tends to make the unfortunate possessor of it conceited, for he seriously considers himself a well-educated person and thinks that he understands something of life. He believes that he has acquired knowledge, whereas the truth is that every increase in such ‘knowledge’ draws him more and more away from real life, until he finally ends up in some sanatorium or takes to politics and becomes a member of parliament. Such a person never succeeds in turning his knowledge to practical account when the opportune moment arrives, for his mental equipment is not ordered according to the broad lines of human existence, but in the order of succession in which he read the books and their contents is stored in his mind. If Fate should one day call upon him to use some of his book-knowledge for certain practical purposes in life, Fate would have to name the book and give the number of the page, for the poor noodle himself would never be able to find the spot where he gathered the information now called for; but since the page is not mentioned at, the critical moment the wise fool finds himself in a state of hopeless embarrassment.
48
In a high state of agitation he searches for analogous cases and it is almost certain that he will finally hit on the wrong prescription. Were this not so, there could be no explanation for the political achievements of our highly-placed government officials, unless we assume that they are due to malice and chicanery rather than to pathological weakness. On the other hand, a man who has cultivated the art of reading will instantly discern, in a book, a journal or a pamphlet, what ought to be remembered because it meets his personal needs or is of value as general knowledge. What he thus learns is incorporated in his mental conception of this or that problem or thing, further correcting the mental picture or enlarging it so that it becomes more exact and precise. Should some practical problem suddenly demand examination or solution, memory will immediately select the requisite information from the mass that has been acquired through years of reading and will place this information at the service of a man’s powers of judgment so he may gain a new and clearer view of the problem, or even solve it. Only thus can reading have any meaning or value. The speaker, for example, who has not the sources of information ready to hand which are necessary to a proper treatment of his subject, is unable to defend his opinions against an opponent, even though those opinions be perfectly sound and true. In every discussion his memory will leave him shamefully in the lurch. He cannot summon up arguments to support his statements or to refute his opponent. So long as the speaker has only to defend himself on his own personal account, the situation is not serious, but the evil arises when Fate places at the head of public affairs such a soi-disant know-all, who in reality knows nothing. From early youth I endeavoured to read books in the right way and I was fortunate in having a good memory and intelligence to assist me. From that point of view my sojourn in Vienna was particularly useful and profitable. My daily experiences there were a constant stimulus to study the most diverse problems from new angles.
49
Inasmuch as I was in a position to put theory to the test of reality and reality to the test of theory, I was safe from the danger of losing myself in a haze of theories on the one hand, and of becoming superficial, on the other. My everyday experiences at that time made me determined to make a fundamental theoretical study of two most important questions, apart from the social question. It is impossible to say when I might have started to make a thorough study of the doctrine and characteristics of Marxism, were it not for the fact that I then literally pitched head foremost into the problem. What I knew of Social Democracy in my youth was precious little and that little was for the most part wrong. The fact that it led the struggle for universal suffrage and the secret ballot gave me an inner satisfaction, for my reason then told me that this would weaken the Habsburg regime, which I so thoroughly detested. I was convinced that except at the cost of sacrificing the German element, the Danubian State could not continue to exist. Even a long and steady Slavisation of the Austrian Germans would not have constituted a guarantee that the Empire would endure, because it was very questionable if, and how far, the Slays possessed the necessary capacity for preserving the State as such. Therefore, I welcomed every movement that might lead towards the final disruption of that impossible State which, to continue to exist, would have to stamp out the German character in ten million people. The more this babel of tongues wrought discord and disruption, even in the parliament, the nearer did the hour approach for the dissolution of this Babylonian Empire. That would mean the liberation of my German-Austrian people and only then would it become possible for them to be re-united with the mother country. Accordingly, I had no feeling of antipathy towards the actual policy of the Social Democrats. That its avowed purpose was to raise the level of the working classes (which, in my ignorance, I then foolishly believed) was a further point in favour of Social Democracy rather than against it,) but the feature that contributed most to estrange me from the Social Democratic movement was its hostile attitude towards the struggle for the preservation of Germanism in Austria and its undignified wooing of the Slav ‘comrades,’ who received these approaches favourably as long as any, practical advantages were forthcoming, but otherwise maintained a haughty reserve, thus giving the suitors the answer their behaviour deserved.
50
So it happened that, at the age of seventeen, the word ‘Marxism’ was very little known to me, while I looked on ‘Social Democracy’ and ‘Socialism’ as synonymous expressions. It was only as the result of a sudden blow from the rough hand of Fate that my eyes were opened to the nature of this unparalleled system of duping the public. Hitherto my acquaintance with the Social Democratic Party had only been that of a mere spectator at some of their mass meetings. I had not the slightest idea of the Social Democratic doctrine or of the mentality of its partisans but now was suddenly brought face to face with the products of its teaching and what was called its Weltanschauung. In this way a few months sufficed for me to learn something which in other circumstances might have required years of study namely, that under the cloak of social virtue and love of one’s neighbour a veritable pestilence was spreading abroad and that if this pestilence were not stamped out without delay it might eventually succeed in exterminating the human race. I first came into contact with the Social Democrats while working in the building trade. From the very moment I started work the situation was not very pleasant for me. My clothes were still rather decent, I was careful of my speech and I was reserved in manner. I was so occupied with thinking of my own present lot and future prospects that I did not take much interest in my immediate surroundings. I had sought work so that I should not starve and at the same time so as to be able to make further headway with my studies, though this headway might be slow. Possibly I should not have bothered about my companions had it not been that on the third or fourth day an event occurred which forced me to take a definite stand. I was called upon to join the trade-union. At that time I knew nothing about the trade-unions. I had had no opportunity of forming an opinion on their utility or inutility, as the case might be, but when I was told that I must join the union, I refused. The grounds which I gave for my refusal were simply that I knew nothing about the matter and that anyhow I would not allow myself to be forced into anything. Probably the former reason saved me from being thrown out right away.
51
They probably thought that within a few days I might be converted or become more docile, but if they thought so, they were profoundly mistaken. After two weeks I found it utterly impossible for me to take such a step, even if I had been willing to take it at first. During those fourteen days I came to know my fellow workmen better, and no power in the world could have moved me to join an organisation whose representatives had meanwhile shown themselves in a light which I found so unfavourable. At first, my resentment was aroused. At midday some, of my fellow, workers used to adjourn to the nearest tavern, while the others remained on the building premises and there ate their midday meal, which was in most cases a very scanty one. These were the married men whose wives brought them their midday soup in dilapidated vessels. Towards the end of the week there was a gradual increase in the number of those who remained to eat their midday meal on the building premises. I understood the reason for this afterwards. They now talked politics. I drank my bottle of milk and ate my morsel of bread somewhat apart from the others, while I circumspectly studied my environment or else fell to meditating on my own harsh lot. Yet I heard more than enough, and I often thought that much of what they said was meant for my ears, in the hope of making me adopt a definite attitude, but all that I heard had the effect of arousing the strongest antagonism in me. Everything was disparaged the nation, because it was held to be an invention of the ‘capitalist’ class (how often I had to listen to that phrase!); the Fatherland, because it was held to be an instrument in the hands of the bourgeoisie for the exploitation of the working classes; the authority of the law, because that was a means of oppressing the proletariat; the school system, as a means of training not only slaves, but also slave-drivers; religion, as a means of doping the people, in order to exploit them afterwards; morality, as the badge of stupid and sheepish docility. There was nothing that they did not drag in the mud. At first I remained silent, but that could not last very long. Then I began to take part in the discussion and to reply to their statements. I had to recognise, however, that this was bound to be entirely fruitless, as long as I did not have at least a certain amount of definite information about the questions that were discussed.
52
I therefore decided to consult the sources from which they claimed to have drawn their so-called wisdom, and, with this end in view, I studied book after book, pamphlet after pamphlet. Meanwhile, we argued with one another on the building premises. Day by day I was becoming better informed than my companions on the subjects on which they claimed to be informed. Then a day came when the more redoubtable of my adversaries resorted to the most effective weapon they had to replace the force of reason, namely, intimidation and physical force. Some of the leaders among my adversaries ordered me to leave the building or else allow myself to be flung off the scaffolding. As I was quite alone I could not put up any effective resistance, so I chose the first alternative and departed, having, however, learned a lesson. I went away full of disgust, but at the same time so deeply moved that it was quite impossible for me to turn my back on the whole situation and think no more about it. When my anger began to calm down, the spirit of obstinacy got the upper hand and I decided that at all costs I would get back to work again, in the building trade. This decision became all the stronger a few weeks later, when my little savings had entirely run out and hunger clutched me once again in its merciless grip. I had no alternative. I got work again and had to leave for the same reasons as before. I tortured myself with the question, ‘Are these men worthy to belong to a great people?’ The question is profoundly disturbing, for if the answer is in the affirmative, then the struggle to defend one’s nationality is no longer worth all the trouble and sacrifice we demand of our best elements if it be on behalf of such a rabble. On the other hand, if the answer is in the negative, then our nation is poor in human material. After days spent in such meditation and introspection, I was depressed and saw before my mind’s eye the ever-increasing and menacing army of people who could no longer be reckoned as belonging to their own nation.
53
It was with changed feelings, that, some days later, I gazed on the interminable ranks of Viennese workmen parading four abreast, at a mass demonstration. I stood dumbfounded for almost two hours, watching that enormous human dragon which slowly uncoiled itself there before me. When I finally left the square and wandered in the direction of my lodgings I felt dismayed and depressed. On my way I noticed the Arbeiterzeitung (“The Workers’Journal”) in a tobacco shop. This was the chief press-organ of the old Austrian Social Democracy. In a cheap cafe, where the common people used to forgather and where I often went to read the papers, the Arbeiterzeitung was also displayed. Hitherto I had not been able to bring myself to do more than glance at the wretched thing for a couple of minutes, for its whole tone was a sort of mental vitriol to me. Under the depressing influence of the demonstration I had witnessed, some interior voice urged me to buy the paper in that tobacco shop and read it through. So I took it home with me and spent a whole evening reading it, despite the steadily mounting rage provoked by this ceaseless outpouring of falsehoods. I now found that in the social democratic daily papers I could study the inner character of this movement much better than in all their theoretical literature. What a discrepancy between the two, between the literary effusions which dealt with the theory of Social Democracy and their high-sounding phraseology about liberty, human dignity and beauty, the air of profound wisdom, the disgusting moral pose and the brazen prophetic assurance—a meticulously woven glitter of words, to dazzle and mislead the reader and, on the other hand, the daily press spreading this new doctrine of human redemption in the most vile fashion! No means was too base, provided it could be exploited in the campaign of slander. These journalists were real virtuosos in the art of twisting facts and presenting them in a deceptive form. The theoretical literature was intended for the simpletons of the soi-disant intelligentsia of the middle and upper classes. The newspaper propaganda was intended for the masses. This probing into books and newspapers and the study of the teachings of
54
Social Democracy reawakened my love for my own, people, and thus what at first seemed an impassable gulf became the occasion of a closer affection. Having once understood the working of the colossal system for poisoning the popular mind, only a fool could blame the victims of it. During the years that followed I became more independent, and as I did so, I became better able to understand the inner cause of the success achieved by this Social Democratic gospel. I now realised the meaning and purpose of those brutal orders which prohibited the reading of all books and newspapers that were not ‘Red’ and at the same time demanded that only the ‘Red’ meetings should be attended. In the clear light of reality I was able to see what must have been the inevitable consequences of that intolerant teaching. The mentality of the broad masses is accessible only to what is strong and uncompromising. Like woman whose inner sensibilities are not under the sway of abstract reasoning, but are always subject to the influence of a vague emotional longing for the strength that completes her being, and who would rather bow to the strong man than dominate the weakling—in like manner the masses of the people prefer the ruler to the suppliant, and are well-led with a stronger sense of mental security by a teaching that brooks no rival, than by one which offers them a liberal freedom. They have very little idea of how to use that freedom, and thus they are prone to feel that they have been abandoned. They feel very little shame at being terrorised intellectually and they are scarcely conscious of the fact that their freedom as human beings is impudently abused, nor have they the slightest suspicion of the intrinsic fallacy of the whole doctrine. They see only the ruthless force and brutality of its determined utterances, to which they always submit. If Social Democracy is opposed by a more truthful teaching, then, even though the struggle be of the most bitter kind, this truthful teaching will finally prevail, provided it be enforced with equal ruthlessness. Within less than two years I had gained a clear understanding of Social Democracy, its teaching and its weapons. I recognised the infamy of that technique whereby the movement carried on a campaign of mental terrorism against the bourgeoisie, which is neither morally nor spiritually equipped to withstand such attacks.
55
The tactics of Social Democracy consisted in opening, at a given signal, a veritable barrage of lies and calumnies against the man whom they believed to be the most redoubtable of their adversaries, until the nerves of the bourgeoisie gave way and they sacrificed the man who was attacked, simply in the hope of being allowed to live in peace. But the hope always proved to be a foolish one for they were never left in peace. The same tactics were repeated again and again, until fear of these ruthless fanatics exercised, by sheer force of suggestion, a paralysing effect on their victims. Through its own experience, Social Democracy learned the value of strength and for that reason it attacks mostly those in whom it senses real mettle, which is indeed a very rare possession. On the other hand, it praises every weakling among its adversaries, more or less cautiously according to the measure of his mental qualities, known or assumed. They have less fear of a man of genius who lacks will-power, than of a vigorous character of mediocre intelligence, and at the same time they highly commend those who are devoid of both intelligence and will-power. The Social Democrats know how to create the impression that they alone are the protectors of peace. In this way, acting very circumspectly, but never losing sight of their ultimate goal, they conquer one position after another, at one time by methods of quiet intimidation, and at another, by sheer daylight robbery, employing these latter tactics at those moments when public attention is turned towards other matters from which it does not wish to be diverted, or when the public considers an incident too trivial to create a scandal and thus provoke the anger of a malignant opponent. These tactics are based on an accurate estimation of human frailties and must lead to success, with almost mathematical certainty, unless the other side also learns how to fight poison gas with poison gas. Weaker elements must be told that here it is a question of to be or not to be. I also came to understand that physical intimidation has its significance for the mass as well as for the individual. Here again, the psychological effect has been calculated to a nicety. Intimidation in workshops and in factories, in assembly halls and at mass demonstrations, will always meet with success as long as it does not have to encounter the same kind of intimidation in a stronger form.
56
Then, of course, the Social Democratic Party will raise a horrified outcry and appeal to the authority of the State, which it has just repudiated and will, in most cases, quietly achieve its aim amid the general confusion, namely, to discover some bovine creature holding an important government position, who, in a vain attempt to curry favour with the dreaded opponent in case of future trouble, is ready to finish off those who dare to oppose this world enemy. The impression which such successful tactics makes on the minds of the broad masses, whether they be adherents or opponents, can be estimated only by one who knows the popular mind, not from books, but from practical life, for the successes which are thus obtained are taken by the adherents of Social Democracy as a triumph of the righteousness of their own cause; on the other hand, the beaten opponent very often loses faith in the effectiveness of any further resistance. The more I understood the methods of physical intimidation that were employed, the more sympathy I had for the multitude that had succumbed to it. I am thankful now for the ordeal which I had to go through at that time; for it was the means of bringing me to think kindly again of my own people, inasmuch as the experience enabled me to distinguish between the false leaders and the victims who have been led astray, for those who had been misled in this way can only be described as victims. If I attempted to give a faithful picture of those on the lowest rung of the social ladder, my picture would be incomplete, if I did not add that even in the social depths I still found light in the shape of a rare spirit of self-sacrifice and loyal comradeship, contentment and a modest reserve. This was true especially of the older generation of workmen. Although these qualities were disappearing more and more in the younger generation, owing to the all-pervading influence of the big city, yet among the younger generation also, there were many who were fundamentally sound and who were able to maintain themselves uncontaminated amid the sordid surroundings of their everyday existence. If these men, who in many cases meant well and were upright in themselves, were, as far as their political activities were concerned, in the ranks of the mortal enemy of our people, that was because they, as decent work-people did not and could not grasp the downright infamy of the doctrine taught by the socialist agitators.
57
Furthermore, it was because no other section of the community bothered itself about the lot of the working classes, and social conditions finally proved more powerful than any feelings which might have led them to adopt a different attitude. A day was bound to come when want gained the upper hand and drove them to join, the Social Democrats. On innumerable occasions the bourgeoisie took a definite stand against even the most legitimate human demands of the working classes. This line of conduct was not only ill-judged and indeed immoral, but the bourgeoisie did not even stand to gain by it. The result was that even the honest workman abandoned the original concept of the trade-union organisation and was dragged into politics. There were millions of workmen who began by being hostile to the Social Democratic Party, but their defences were repeatedly stormed and finally they had to surrender. Yet this defeat was due to the stupidity of the bourgeois parties, who had opposed every social demand put forward by the working classes. The short-sighted refusal to support attempts to improve labour conditions, the refusal to adopt measures for the prevention of accidents in the factories, the refusal to forbid child labour, the refusal to consider protective measures for female workers, especially expectant mothers—all this was of assistance to the Social Democratic leaders, who were thankful for every opportunity which they could exploit for forcing the masses into their net. Our bourgeois parties can never repair the damage that resulted from the mistake they then made, for they sowed the seeds of hatred when they opposed all efforts at social, reform and thus, to all outward appearances, at least, lent colour to the claim put forward by the arch-enemy of our people: that only the Social Democrats protected. In this way it provided the moral justification of the actual existence of the trade-union, which was, from the outset, the chief political recruiting ground for the Social Democratic Party. During those years in Vienna, I was forced, whether I liked it or not, to decide on the attitude I should take towards the trade-union. Because I looked upon them as inseparable from the Social Democratic Party, my decision was hasty and mistaken.
58
I repudiated them as a matter of course, but on this, essential question, too, Fate intervened and gave me a lesson, with the result that I changed the opinion which I had first formed. When I was twenty years old I had learned to distinguish between the trade-union as a means of defending the social rights of the employees and of fighting for better living conditions for them and, on the other hand, the trade-union as a political instrument used by the party in the class struggle. The fact that the Social Democrats grasped the enormous importance of the trade-union movement, secured for them a weapon which they used with success, whereas the bourgeois parties by their failure to understand it, lost their political prestige. They thought that their own arrogant ‘veto’ would arrest the logical development of the movement, but what they actually did was to produce an illogical development. It is absurd and also untrue to say that the trade-union movement was in itself hostile to the nation. To maintain the opposite would be more correct. If the activities of the trade-union are directed towards improving the condition of a class, which is a mainstay of the nation, and succeed in doing so, such activities are not directed against the Fatherland or the State but are, in the truest sense of the word, national. In that way, the trade-union organisation helps to create the social conditions which are indispensable in a general system of national education. It deserves high recognition when it destroys the psychological and physical germs of social disease and thus contributes to the general welfare of the nation. It is, therefore, superfluous to ask whether the trade-union is indispensable. So long as there are employers who lack social understanding and have false ideas of justice and fair play, it is not only the right, but also the duty, of their employees (who are, after all, an integral part of our people) to protect the general interests against the greed and unreason of the individual. To safeguard the loyalty and confidence of the people is as much in the interests of the nation as to safeguard public health. Both are seriously menaced by dishonourable employers who are not conscious of their duty as members of the national community. Their personal avidity or ruthlessness sows the seeds of future trouble. To eliminate the causes of such a development is an action that deserves the approbation of the country, and not the reverse.
59
It is useless to argue that the individual workman is free at any time to escape from the consequences of an injustice which he has actually suffered, or thinks he has suffered, at the hands of an employer—in other words, he can leave. That argument is only a ruse to distract attention from the question at issue. Is it, or is it not, in the interests of the nation to remove the causes of social unrest? If it is, then the fight must be carried on with the only weapons that promise success. The individual workman is never in a position to stand up against the might of the big employer, for the question here is not one that concerns the triumph of right since, if right had been recognised as the guiding principle, the conflict could not have arisen at all. But here it is a question of who is the stronger. If it were otherwise, a sense of justice would, in itself, lead to an honourable settlement of the dispute, or, to put the case more correctly, such a dispute would never have arisen. If unsocial and dishonourable treatment of men provokes resistance, then the stronger party will win through in the conflict, until the constitutional legislative authorities do away with the evil through legislation. Therefore it is evident that, only if the individual workmen combine against the individual employer as representing the concentrated force of the undertaking, can they hope not to be doomed to defeat from the outset. Thus the trade-unions can help to inculcate and strengthen a sense of social responsibility in daily life and open the way to practical results. In doing this they tend to remove those causes of friction which are a continual source of discontent and complaint. The blame for the fact that the trade-unions do not fulfil this much-desired function must be laid at the doors of those who barred the road to legislative social reform, or rendered such a reform ineffective by sabotaging it through their political influence. Since the political bourgeoisie failed to understand—or, rather, did not wish to understand—the importance of the trade-union movement, the Social Democrats seized the advantage offered them by this mistaken policy and took the trade-unions under their exclusive protection, without any protest from the other side.
60
In this way they established for themselves a solid bulwark behind which they could safely retire whenever the struggle assumed a critical aspect. Thus the genuine purpose of the movement gradually fell into oblivion, and was replaced by new objectives, for the Social Democrats never have, the slightest intention of upholding the original purpose for which the trade-union movement was founded. Within a, few decades the trade-union movement was transformed, by the expert hand of Social Democracy, from an instrument which had been originally fashioned for the defence of human rights into an instrument for the destruction of the national economic structure. The interests of the working class were not for one moment permitted to interfere with this aim, for, in the political sphere the application of economic pressure always renders extortion, successful, if the one side be sufficiently unscrupulous and the other sufficiently inert and docile. In this case both these conditions were fulfilled. By the beginning of the present century the trade-unionist movement had already ceased to serve the purpose for which it had been founded. From year to year it fell more and more under the political control of the Social Democrats, until it finally came to be used solely as a battering-ram in the class struggle. The plan was to shatter, by means of constantly repeated blows, the economic edifice on the building of which so much time and care had been expended. Once this objective had been reached, the destruction of the State would become easier, because the State would already have been deprived of its economic foundations. It became less and less a question of protecting the real interests of the workers, until political acumen no longer deemed it advisable to supply the social and cultural needs of the broad masses, Since there was a danger that if these masses once felt content they could no longer be employed as mere passive material in the political struggle. The, mere prospect of such a development caused such anxiety among the leaders in the class-warfare, that they eventually rejected and inveighed against every genuinely beneficial social reform, and conditions were such that these leaders did not have to trouble to justify such an illogical policy.
61
As the masses were taught to increase and raise their demands, the possibility of satisfying them dwindled, and whatever ameliorative measures were taken seemed less and less significant, so that it was always possible to persuade the masses that this ridiculous degree in which the most sacred claims of the working classes were being granted, represented a diabolical plane to weaken their fighting power and, if possible, to paralyse it. In view of the limited thinking capacity of the broad masses, the success achieved is not to be wondered at. In the bourgeois camp there was high indignation over the dishonesty of the Social Democratic tactics, but not even the most tentative steps were taken to lay down guiding principles for their own line of conduct in the light of this. The refusal of the Social Democrats, to improve the miserable living conditions of the working classes, ought to have induced the bourgeois parties to make the most energetic efforts in this direction and to snatch from the hands of the class-warfare leaders their most precious weapon; but nothing of this kind happened. Instead of attacking the position of its adversaries the bourgeoisie allowed itself to be pressed and hurried. Finally, it adopted means that were so tardy and so insignificant that they were ineffective and were rejected. So the whole situation remained just as it had been before the bourgeois intervention, except that the discontent had increased. Like a threatening storm, the ‘free trade-union’ hung above the political horizon and overshadowed the life of each individual, It was one of the most frightful instruments of terror that threatened the security and independence of the national economic structure, the stability of the State and the liberty of the individual. Above all, it was the ‘free trade-union’ that turned democracy into a ridiculous term, insulted the ideal of liberty and derided that of fraternity with the slogan, ‘If you won’t become one of us, we’ll crack your skull.’ Thus did I come to know this friend of humanity. During the years that followed, my knowledge was widened and deepened, but I never felt called upon to alter my original opinion. The more became acquainted with the external forms of Social Democracy, the greater became my desire to understand the inner nature of its doctrines.
62
For this purpose the official literature of the party was of little use. In discussing economic questions, its statements were false and its proofs unsound. In treating of political aims its attitude was insincere. Furthermore, its modern methods of chicanery in the presentation of its arguments were profoundly repugnant to me. Its flamboyant sentences, its obscure and incomprehensible phrases, pretended to contain great thoughts, but they were devoid of meaning. One would have had to be a decadent Bohemian in one of our modern cities in order to feel at home in that labyrinth of nonsense, or enjoy ‘intimate experiences’ amid the stinking fumes of this literary Dadaism. These writers were obviously counting on the proverbial humility of a certain section of our people, who believe that a person who is incomprehensible must be profoundly wise. By comparing the theoretical falsity and absurdity of that doctrine with the reality of its external manifestations, I gradually came to have a clear idea of its final aims. During such moments I had dark presentiments and feared something evil. I had before me a teaching inspired by egotism and hatred, calculated to win its victory, the winning of which would be a mortal blow to humanity. Meanwhile, I had discovered the relationship existing between this destructive teaching and the specific character of a people, who up to that time had been to me almost unknown. Knowledge of the Jews is the only key to a true understanding of the inner nature, and, therefore, the real aims, of Social Democracy. The man who has come to know this race has succeeded in removing from his eyes the veil through which he had seen the aims and meaning of this party in a false light; then, out of the murk and fog of socialist talk rises the grimacing spectre of Marxism. To-day it is hard, and almost impossible, for me to say when the word ‘Jew’ first began to have any particular significance for me. I do not remember ever having heard the word at home during my father’s lifetime. If this word had been used with a particular inflection I think the old gentleman would have considered those who used it in this way as being ‘behind the times.’
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In the course of his career he had, despite his pronounced nationalist tendencies, come to be more or less of a cosmopolitan, and this had not been without its effect on me. In school, too, I found no reason to alter the picture I had formed at home. At the Realschule I knew one Jewish boy. We were all on our guard in our relations with him, but only because his reticence and certain actions of his warned us to be discreet. Beyond that, my companions and myself formed no particular opinion regarding him. It was not until I was fourteen or fifteen years old that I frequently ran up against the word ‘Jew,’ partly in connection with political controversies. These references aroused a slight aversion in me, and I could not avoid an uncomfortable feeling which always came over me when I had to listen to religious disputes. But, at that time, I did not see the Jewish question in any other light. There were very few Jews in Linz. In the course of centuries the Jews who lived there had become Europeanized and so civilised in appearance that I even looked upon them as Germans. The reason why I did not then perceive the absurdity of such an illusion was that the only thing which I recognised as distinguishing them from us was the practice of their strange religion. As I thought that they were persecuted on account of their faith my aversion to hearing remarks against them grew almost into a feeling of horror. I did not in the least suspect that there could be such a thing as systematic anti-Semitism. Such were the views I held when I went to Vienna. Confused by the mass of impressions I received from the architectural surroundings, and depressed by my own troubles, I did not at first distinguish between the different social strata of which the population of that mammoth city was composed. Although Vienna then had about two hundred thousand Jews among its population of two millions, I did not notice them. During the first weeks of my sojourn, my eyes and my mind were unable to cope with the onrush of new ideas and values. Not until I had gradually settled down in my new surroundings, and the confused picture began to grow clearer, did I gain a closer insight into my new world, and with that I came up against the Jewish problem.
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I will not say that the manner in which I first became acquainted with it was particularly pleasant. In the Jew I still saw a man who was of a different religion, and, therefore, on grounds of human tolerance, I was against the idea that he should be attacked because he had a different faith. Consequently I considered that the tone adopted by the anti-Semitic press in Vienna was unworthy of the cultural traditions of a great people. The memory of certain events which happened in the Middle Ages came to my mind, and I felt that I should not like to see them repeated. Generally speaking, these anti-Semitic newspapers were not regarded as belonging to the first rank (but I did not then understand the reason of this) and so I regarded them as the products of jealousy and envy rather than as the expression of a sincere, though wrong-headed, feeling. My own opinions were confirmed by what I considered to be the infinitely more dignified manner in which the really important papers replied to these attacks or simply ignored them, which latter seemed to me the better way. I diligently read what was generally called the world press—Neue Freie Presse, Wiener Tageblatt, etc.—and I was astonished by the abundance of information these gave their readers and the impartial way in which they presented particular problems. I appreciated their dignified tone, although sometimes the flamboyancy of the style was unconvincing, and I did not like it. All this, however, might be attributed to the atmosphere of the metropolis. Since, at that time, I considered Vienna to be such, I thought this constituted sufficient grounds to excuse these shortcomings of the press, but I was frequently disgusted by the grovelling way in which the Viennese press played lackey to the Court. Scarcely a move took place at the Hofburg which was not presented in glorified colours to the readers. There was such a fuss, especially when it was a question of ‘the wisest monarch of all times,’ that one was reminded of the antics of the mountain-cock at mating time. It all seemed artificial, and to my mind, unworthy of liberal democracy. I thought that this cheap way of currying favour at the Court belittled the dignity of the nation, and that was the first shadow that fell on my appreciation of the great Viennese press.
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While in Vienna I continued to follow with a vivid interest all the events that were taking place in Germany, whether connected with political or with cultural questions. I had a feeling of pride and admiration when I compared the rise of the young German Reich with the decline of the Austrian State. But, although the foreign policy of that Reich was a source of real pleasure on the whole, the internal political happenings were not always so satisfactory. I did not approve of the campaign which, at that time, was being carried on against Wilhelm II. I looked upon him not only as the German Emperor but, above all, as the creator of the German Navy. The fact that the Emperor was prohibited by the Reichstag from making political speeches, made me very angry, because the prohibition came from a quarter which, in my eyes, had no reason for doing so, for at a single sitting those same parliamentary ganders did more cackling than the whole dynasty of emperors, including even the weakest, could have done in the course of centuries. It annoyed me to have to acknowledge that in a nation where any halfwitted fellow could claim for himself the right to criticise and might even be let loose on the people as a ‘legislator’ in the Reichstag, the wearer of the Imperial Crown could be the subject of a ‘reprimand’ on the part of the most miserable assembly of drivellers that had ever existed. I was even more disgusted at the way in which this same Viennese press salaamed obsequiously before the meanest steed belonging to the Habsburg royal stables and went off into wild ecstasies of delight if the nag wagged its tail in response. At the same time these newspapers took up an attitude of anxiety in matters that concerned the German Emperor, trying to cloak their enmity by the serious air of concern which they assumed. Naturally, they protested that they had no intention of interfering in Germany’s internal affairs—God forbid! They pretended that by touching a delicate spot in such a friendly way they were fulfilling a duty that devolved upon them by reason of the mutual alliance between the two countries and at the same time discharging their obligations of journalistic truthfulness. Having thus excused themselves about tenderly touching a sore spot, they probed the wound ruthlessly.
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That sort of thing made my blood boil, and now I began to be more and more on my guard when reading the great Viennese press. I had to acknowledge however, that on such subjects, one of the anti-Semitic papers—Deutsches Volksblatt—acted with more dignity. What got still more on my nerves was the repugnant manner in which the big newspapers cultivated admiration for France. One really had to feel ashamed of being a German when confronted by those mellifluous hymns of praise for ‘the great cultured nation.’ This wretched Gallomania more often than once made me throw away one of these newspapers belonging to the ‘world press.’ I now often turned to the Volksblatt, which was much smaller in size, but which treated such subjects more decently I was not in accord with its sharply anti-Semitic tone, but again and again I found that its arguments gave me food for serious thought. Anyhow it was as a result of such reading that I came to know the man and the movement which then determined the fate of Vienna. These were Dr. Karl Lueger and the Christian Socialist Party. At the time I went to Vienna I felt opposed to both. I looked on both the man and the movement as reactionary. But even an elementary sense of justice forced me to change my opinion when I had an opportunity of knowing the man and his work; and slowly that opinion grew into outspoken admiration when I had better grounds for forming a judgment. To-day, as well as then, I respect Dr. Karl Lueger as the most eminent type of German Burgomaster. How many prejudices were overcome through such a change in my attitude towards the Christian Socialist Movement! My ideas about anti-Semitism changed also in the course of time, but that was the change which I found most difficult. It cost me a great internal conflict with myself, and it was only after months of struggle between reason and sentiment that the former gained the victory. Two years later sentiment rallied to the side of reason and became a faithful guardian and counsellor. At the time of this bitter inner struggle between calm reason and the sentiments in which I had been brought up, the lessons that I learned on the streets of Vienna were of invaluable assistance.
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A time came when I no longer passed blindly along the streets of the mighty city, as I had done in the early days, but now with my eyes open, not only in order to study the buildings, but also the human beings. Once, when passing through the oldest part of the city, I suddenly encountered a creature in a long caftan and wearing black sidelocks. My first thought was, is this, then, a Jew? They certainly did not have this appearance in Linz. I watched the man stealthily and cautiously, but the longer I gazed at that strange countenance and examined it feature by feature, the more the question shaped itself in my brain, ‘Is this, then, a German?’ As was always my habit with such experiences, I turned to books for help in removing my doubts. For the first time in my life I bought myself some anti-Semitic pamphlets, for a few pence, but unfortunately they all began with the assumption that the reader had at least a certain degree of information on the Jewish question or was even familiar with it. Moreover, the tone of most of these pamphlets was such that I became doubtful again, because the statements made were partly superficial and the proofs extraordinarily unconvincing. For weeks, and indeed for months, I returned to my old way of thinking. The subject appeared so enormous and the accusations were so far-reaching that I was afraid of being unjust and so I became again anxious and uncertain. Naturally, I could no longer doubt that here it was not a question of Germans who happened to be of a different religion, but rather that it was a question of an entirely different people, for as soon as I began to investigate the matter and observe the Jews, Vienna appeared to me in a different light. Wherever I now went, I saw Jews, and the more I saw of them the more strikingly and clearly they stood out as different from the other citizens. Especially the old part of the city and the district north of the Danube Canal swarmed with a people who, even in outer appearance bore no similarity to the Germans. Any indecision which I may still have felt about that point was finally removed by the activities of a certain section of the Jews themselves.
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A great movement, called Zionism, the aim of which was to assert the national character of Judaism, was strongly represented in Vienna. To all outward appearances it seemed as if only one group of Jews championed this movement, while the great majority disapproved of it, or even repudiated it, but a closer investigation of the situation showed that since that part of Jewry which was styled ‘liberal’ did not disown the Zionists as if they were not member of their race, but rather as brother Jews who publicly professed their faith in an unpractical, and even, dangerous way, there was no real rift in their internal solidarity. This fictitious conflict between the Zionists and the ‘liberal’Jews soon disgusted me; for it was false through and through and therefore in direct contradiction to the moral dignity and immaculate character on which that race had always prided itself. Cleanliness, whether moral or of another kind, had its own peculiar meaning for these people. That they were water-shy was obvious on looking at them and, unfortunately, very often even when not looking at them. The odour of those people in caftans often used to make me feel ill. Apart from that there were the unkempt clothes and the ignoble exterior. All these details were certainly not attractive, but the revolting feature was that beneath their unclean exterior one suddenly perceived the moral mildew of the chosen race. What soon gave me food for serious thought was the insight which I gradually gained into the activities of the Jews in certain walks of life. Was there any shady undertaking, any form of, foulness, especially in cultural life, in which at least one Jew did not participate? On probing to the heart of this kind of abomination, one discovered, like a maggot in a rotten body, a tiny Jew, who was apt to be blinded when thus exposed to the light of day. In my eyes the charge against Judaism became a grave one the moment I discovered the scope of Jewish activities in the press, in art, in literature and in the theatre. All unctuous protests were now more or less futile. One needed only to look at the posters and to study the names of the authors of the appalling productions advertised as being performed in the cinemas and theatres, in order to become hardened against the Jews.
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Here was a pestilence, a moral pestilence, with which the public was being infected. It was worse than the black plague of long ago. And in what doses this poison was manufactured and distributed! Naturally, the lower the moral and intellectual level of such an author of ‘artistic’ products, the more inexhaustible his fecundity, and at times it even seemed as though these creatures turned out their stuff like machines and hurled it at the public. In this connection we must remember there is no limit to the number of such writers. One ought to realise that for one Goethe, Nature may bring into existence ten thousand such scribblers who act as the worst kind of germ-carriers in poisoning human soul. It was a terrible thought, and yet one which could not be overlooked, that the greater number of the Jews seemed specially destined by Nature to play this shameful part. Was it for this reason that they were called the chosen people? I then began to investigate carefully the names of all the fabricators of these unclean products which played such a big part in the cultural life of the public. The result of that investigation was still more unfavourable to the attitude which I had hitherto held in regard to the Jews. Though my feelings might rebel a thousand times, reason now had to draw its own conclusions. The fact that nine-tenths of all the ‘smutty’ literature, artistic ‘tripe’ and theatrical banalities, had to be charged to the account of a people who formed scarcely one percent of the nation could not be gainsaid. It was there and had to be admitted. Then I began to examine my favourite ‘world press,’ with that fact before my mind. The deeper I probed, the more did the object of my former admiration lose its glory. Its style became still more repellent and I was forced to reject its subject-matter as entirely shallow and superficial. Its impartial attitude in the presentation of facts and views seemed to me to contain more falsehood than truth. The writers were—Jews. Thousands of details that I had scarcely noticed before seemed to me now to deserve attention. I began to grasp and understand things which had formerly puzzled me. I saw the liberal policy of that press in another light.
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Its dignified tone in replying to the attacks of its adversaries and its dead silence in other cases now became clear to me as part of a cunning and despicable way of deceiving the readers. Its brilliant theatrical criticisms always praised the Jewish authors and its adverse criticism was reserved exclusively for the Germans. The slight pin-pricks against Wilhelm II showed the persistency of its policy, just as did its systematic commendation of French culture and civilisation. The subject-matter of the serial was trivial and often indecent. The language of this press as a whole had the accent of a foreign people. The general tone was so openly derogatory to the Germans that this must have been definitely intentional. To whose interest was this? Or was it mere chance? In attempting to find an answer to these questions I gradually became more and more dubious. The process was hastened by glimpses which I gained of another aspect of the case, namely, the general conception of manners and morals which was openly upheld and put into practice by a large section of the Jews. Here again the life which I observed in the streets taught me by living example. The part which the Jews played in the evil of prostitution, and more especially in the white slave traffic, could be studied here better than in any other Western European city, with the possible exception of certain ports in Southern France. Walking by night along the streets of the Leopoldstadt, almost at every turn, whether one wished it or not, one witnessed certain incidents of which the majority of Germans knew nothing until the War made it possible, and indeed inevitable, for the soldiers to see such things on the Eastern front. A cold shiver ran down my spine when I first ascertained that it was the cold-blooded and shameless Jew who showed his consummate skill in conducting a sordid and vicarious trade among the dregs of the big city. Then I was filled with wrath. I had now no more hesitation about investigating the Jewish problem in all its details. Henceforth, I was determined to do so, but as I learned to track down the Jew in all the different spheres of cultural and artistic life, and in the various manifestations of this life everywhere, I suddenly came upon him where I had least expected to find him.
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I now realised that the Jews were the leaders of Social Democracy. In the face of that revelation the scales fell from my eyes. My long inner struggle was at an end. In my relations with my fellow-workmen I was often astonished to find how easily and how often they changed their opinions on the same question, sometimes within a few days and sometimes even within the course of a few hours. I found it difficult to understand how men, who always had reasonable ideas when I spoke to them as individuals, suddenly lost this reasonableness the moment they came under the influence of the mass. I was often on the verge of despair. When, after talking to them for hours, I was convinced that I had, at last broken the ice or made them see the error of their way of thinking, and was sincerely pleased, I would often find to my disgust that next day I had to begin all over again. All my efforts had been in vain. With pendulum-like regularity they swung back to their original opinions. I was able to understand their position fully. They were dissatisfied with their lot and cursed the fate which had hit them so hard. They hated their employers, whom they looked upon as the heartless agents of their cruel destiny. Often they used abusive language against the public officials, whom they accused of having no sympathy with the situation of the working people. They made public demonstrations against the cost of living and paraded through the streets in defence of their claims. At least all this could be explained in the light of reason, but what was impossible to understand was the boundless hatred they expressed against their own fellow-citizens, how they disparaged their own nation, mocked at its greatness, reviled its history and dragged the names of its most illustrious men in the gutter. This hostility towards their own kith and kin, their own native land and home was as irrational as it was incomprehensible. It was against Nature. One could cure that malady temporarily, but only for some days, or at most for some weeks, but on meeting those whom one believed to have been converted one found that they had reverted to their old way of thinking and were again the prey of perverse opinions.
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I gradually discovered that the Social Democratic press was mainly controlled by Jews, but I did not attach special importance to this circumstance, for the same was true of other newspapers. In this connection there was, however, one striking fact, namely, that there was not a single newspaper with which Jews were connected that could be spoken of as ‘national’ in the sense that I, with my education and convictions, used that word. Making an effort to overcome my natural reluctance, I tried to read articles published in the Marxist press. However, as my aversion increased tenfold, I set about learning something of the people who wrote and published this mischievous stuff—from the publisher downwards, all of them were Jews! I got hold of as many Social Democratic pamphlets as I could and looked up the names of the authors—Jews all! I noted the names of nearly all their leaders and most of them belonged to the chosen race, whether they were members of the Reichsrat (Imperial Council), trade-union secretaries, chairmen of various organisations or street agitators. Everywhere the same sinister picture presented itself. I shall never forget the list of names—Austerlitz, David, Adler, Ellenbogen, and others. One fact became quite evident to me, namely, that this alien race held in its hand the leadership of that Social Democratic Party with whose minor representatives I had been disputing for months past. I was happy at last to know for certain that the Jew was not a German. Thus I learnt to know thoroughly those who were leading our people astray. One year in Vienna had sufficed to convince me that no worker is so rooted in his pre-conceived notions that he will not surrender them in face of better and clearer arguments and explanations. Gradually I became an expert in the doctrine of the Marxists and used this knowledge as an instrument to drive home my own firm convictions. I was successful in nearly every case. The great masses can be rescued, but a lot of time and a great deal of patience must be devoted to such work.
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A Jew, on the other hand, can never be rescued from his fixed notions. I was then simple enough to attempt to show them the absurdity of their teaching. Within my small circle I talked to them until my throat ached and my voice grew hoarse. I believed that I could finally convince them of the danger inherent in the Marxist nonsense. But I achieved the very opposite. It seemed to me that a growing insight into the disastrous effects of the Social Democratic doctrine in theory and in practice only served to strengthen their opposition. The more I debated with them the more familiar I became with their tactics in debate. At the outset they counted upon the stupidity of their opponents; but when they got so entangled that they could not find a way out, they played the trick of acting the innocent simpleton. Should they fail, in spite of their tricks of logic, they acted as if they could not understand the counter-arguments and feeling themselves cornered, hastily transferred the discussion to another field. They uttered truisms and platitudes; and, if you accepted these, took this acceptance as applying to other problems and matters differing essentially from the original theme. If you cornered them on this point they would escape again, and you could not force them to make any precise statement. Whenever one tried, to get a firm grip on any of these apostles, one’s hand grasped only a slimy jelly which slipped through the fingers, but coagulated again a moment afterwards. If your arguments were so telling that your adversary felt forced to give in on account of those listening and if you then thought that at last you had gained ground, a surprise was in store for you on the following day. The Jew would be utterly oblivious to what had happened the day before, and he would start once again by repeating his former absurdities, and if nothing had happened. Should you become indignant and remind him of yesterday’s defeat, he pretended astonishment and could not remember anything, except that on the previous day he had proved that his statements were correct.
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Sometimes I was dumbfounded. I do not know what amazed me the more —their quickness in repartee or the artful way in which they dressed up their falsehoods. I gradually came to hate them. Yet all this had its good side, because the better I came to know the real leaders, or at least the propagators of Social Democracy, the more did my love for my own people increase accordingly. Considering the satanic skill which these evil counsellors displayed, who could blame their unfortunate victims? Indeed, I found it extremely difficult to prove a match for the dialectic perfidy of that race. How futile was it to try to win over such people, seeing that they distorted the truth, denied the very words they had just uttered and used them again a few moments afterwards to serve their own ends in argument! The better I came to know the Jew, the easier it was to excuse the workers. In my opinion the, most culpable were not to be found among the workers, but rather among those who did not think it worthwhile to take the trouble to sympathise with these, and in accordance with the iron law of justice to give to the hard-working son of the people what was his, while at the same time executing his seducer and corrupter. Moved by my own daily experiences, I now began to investigate more thoroughly the sources of the Marxist teaching itself. Its effects were well known to me in detail, one needed only a little imagination in order to be able to forecast the inevitable consequences. The only question now was, ‘Did the founders foresee the effects of their work in the form which it was eventually to assume, or were the founders themselves the victims of an error?’ To my mind both, alternatives were possible. If the second question had to be answered in the affirmative, then it was the duty of every thinking person to push his way into the forefront of this sinister movement with a view to preventing it from producing the worst possible results.
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But if it were the first question which had to be answered in the affirmative, then it must be admitted that the original authors of this evil which has infected the nations were devils incarnate, for only the brain of a monster, and not that of a man, could plan an organisation whose activities must finally bring about the collapse of human civilisation and turn this world into a desert waste. Such being the case, the only alternative left was to fight, and in that fight to employ all the weapons which the human spirit, human intellect and human will could furnish, leaving it to Fate to decide in whose favour the balance should tilt. I began to gather information about the authors of this teaching, with a view to studying the principles of the movement. The fact that I attained my object sooner than I could have anticipated as due to the insight into the Jewish question which I had recently gained, slight though it was. This newly acquired knowledge alone enabled me to make a practical comparison between reality and the theoretical talk of the founders of Social Democracy, because I now understood the language of the Jew. I realised that the Jew uses language for the purpose of dissimulating his thoughts or at least veiling them, so that his real aim cannot be discovered in his words, but rather by reading between the lines. This was the moment at which my opinions underwent the greatest transformation which I had as yet experienced; from being a soft-hearted cosmopolitan I became ardently anti-Semitic. Only on one further occasion, and that for the last time: did I give way to oppressing thoughts which caused me some moments of profound anxiety. As I critically reviewed the activities of the Jewish people throughout long periods of history I became perplexed and asked myself whether, for inscrutable reasons beyond the comprehension of poor mortals such as ourselves, Destiny might not have irrevocably decreed that the final victory should go to this small people? May it not be that this people which lives only for the things of this earth has been promised the earth as a reward? Have we, from the objective point of view, a right to fight for self-preservation, or is this right subjective? Fate answered the question for me inasmuch as it led me to make a detached and exhaustive inquiry into the Marxist teaching and the activities of the Jewish people in connection with it.
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The Jewish doctrine of Marxism repudiates the aristocratic principle of Nature and substitutes for the eternal right of might and strength, the dead weight of sheer numbers. Thus it denies the individual worth of the human personality, disputes the teaching that nationality and race are of primary significance, and by doing this deprives Man of the very foundations of his existence and civilisation. If the Marxist teaching were to be accepted as the foundation of the life of the universe, it would lead to the disappearance of all order that is conceivable to the human mind, and thus the adoption of such a law would provoke chaos in the structure of the greatest organism that we know, with the result that the inhabitants of this earthly planet would finally disappear. Should the Jew, with the aid of his Marxist creed, triumph over the peoples of this world, his crown will be the funeral, wreath of mankind, and this planet will once again follow its orbit through ether, devoid of human life, as it did millions of years ago. Nature, the eternal, takes merciless vengeance on those who defy her laws. Therefore, I believe to-day that my conduct is in accordance with the will of the Almighty Creator. In resisting the Jew I am defending the handiwork of the Lord.
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To-day, I am of the opinion that, generally speaking, a man should not publicly take part in politics before he has reached the age of thirty, though, of course, exceptions must be made in the case of those who are naturally gifted with extraordinary political ability. The reason is that, until they have attained this age, most men are engaged in acquiring a certain general philosophy through the medium of which they can examine the various political problems of their day and adopt a definite attitude towards each. Only after he has acquired a fundamental Weltanschauung and thereby gained stability in the judgment he forms on specific problems of the day, is a man, having now reached maturity, at least of mind, qualified to participate in the government of the community. If this is not so, lie runs the risk of discovering that he has to alter the attitude which he had hitherto adopted with regard to essential questions, or, despite his superior knowledge and insight, he may have to remain loyal to a point of view which his reason and convictions have now led him to reject. If he adopts the former line of action he will find himself in a difficult situation, because in giving up a position hitherto maintained he will appear inconsistent and will have no right to expect his followers to remain as loyal to him as leader as they were before. This change of attitude on the part of the leader means that his adherents are assailed by doubt and not infrequently by a sense of discomfiture as far as their former opponents are concerned. Although he himself no longer dreams of standing by his political pronouncements to the last—for no man will die in defence of what he does not believe—he makes increasing and shameless demands on his followers. Finally, he throws aside the last vestiges of true leadership and becomes a ‘politician.’ This means that he becomes one of those whose only consistency lies in their inconsistency, which is accompanied by overbearing insolence and oftentimes by an artful mendacity developed to a shamelessly high degree.
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Should such a person, to the misfortune of all decent people, succeed in becoming a member of parliament, it will be clear from the outset that for him the essence of political activity consists in a heroic struggle to retain his hold on this sinecure as a source of livelihood for himself and his family. The more his wife and children are dependent on him, the more stubbornly will he fight to maintain for himself the representation of his parliamentary constituency. For that reason any other person who shows evidence of political ability is his personal enemy. In every new movement he will apprehend the possible beginning of his own downfall, and everyone who is a better man than he will appear to him in the light of a menace. I shall subsequently deal more fully with the problem to which this kind of parliamentary vermin gives rise. When a man has reached his thirtieth year he has still a great deal to learn, but henceforward what he learns will serve to fill up the framework of that fundamental Weltanschauung which he already possesses. What he learns anew will not imply the abandonment of principles already held, but rather a deeper knowledge of those principles, and thus his colleagues will never have the disconcerting feeling that he has misled them hitherto. On the contrary, their confidence is increased when they perceive that their leader’s qualities are steadily developing since his newly acquired knowledge serves to enrich the doctrines in which they themselves believe. In their eyes every such development is fresh proof of the correctness of the opinions which they had hitherto held. A leader who has to abandon his general Weltanschauung, because he recognises its foundation to be false, acts honourably only if he admits the wrongness of his views and is prepared to bear the consequences. In such a case he ought to refrain from taking a public part in any further political activity. Having once gone astray in essential matters he may possibly go astray a second time, but anyhow he has no right whatsoever to expect or demand that his fellow-citizens should continue to give him their support. How little such an honourable line of conduct commends itself to our public leaders nowadays is proved by the general corruption prevalent among the rabble which at the present moment feels itself called upon to play the politician.
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There is scarcely one among them who has been chosen for this task. If he adopts the second alternative, the result will be one which is not uncommon to-day. In the same degree in which the leader no longer believes in what he himself says, his defence of his cause will be superficial and without conviction but, on the other hand, he will stoop to the use of base weapons. Although in those days I used to give more time than most others to the consideration of political questions, yet I carefully refrained from taking a public part in politics. Only to a small circle did I speak of those things which agitated my mind or were the cause of my constant preoccupation. The habit of discussing matters within such a restricted group had many advantages in itself. Rather than learning to deliver speeches I learned to know the people and their often very primitive views and protests. At the same time I waste no opportunity of extending my own education and in those days no city in Germany could have offered me more possibilities for this than did Vienna. In the old Danubian Monarchy, political interests were more comprehensive and more broad-minded than in the Germany of that epoch, excepting certain parts of Prussia, Hamburg and the districts bordering on the North Sea. When I speak of Austria here, I mean that part of the great Habsburg Empire which, by reason of its German population, furnished not only the historic basis for the formation of this State, but whose population had for centuries been the sole source of its strength and had given that politically artificial structure its internal cultural life. As time went on the stability of the Austrian State and the guarantee of its continued existence depended more and more on the preservation of this germ-cell of the Habsburg Empire. Just as the hereditary imperial provinces constituted the heart of the Empire, and just as it was this heart that constantly sent the blood of life pulsating through the whole political and cultural system, so Vienna was its brain and its will. At that time Vienna presented an appearance which made one think of her as an enthroned queen whose authoritative sway united the conglomeration of heterogeneous nationalities that lived under the Habsburg sceptre. The radiant beauty of the capital made one forget the sad symptoms of senile decay which the State as a whole betrayed.
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Though the Empire was internally rickety because of the violent conflict going on between the various nationalities, the outside world (and Germany in particular) saw only that lovely picture of the city. The illusion was all the greater because at that time Vienna seemed to have entered upon the last and most spectacular phase of her splendour. Under a Mayor who had the true stamp of genius, the venerable residential city of the rulers of the old Empire seemed to have renewed the glory of its youth. The last great German who sprang from the ranks of the people that had colonized the Ostmark was no ‘statesman,’ in the official sense. Dr. Lueger, however, in his role as Mayor of the Imperial Capital and Residential City, had achieved so much in almost every sphere of municipal activity, whether economic or cultural, that the heart of the whole Empire throbbed with renewed vigour and he thus proved himself a much greater statesman than the so-called ‘diplomats’ of that period. The fact that this political conglomeration of heterogeneous races called Austria, finally broke down, is no evidence whatsoever of political incapacity on the part of the German element in the old Ostmark. The collapse was the inevitable result of an impossible situation. Ten million people cannot permanently hold together a State of fifty millions, composed of different and conflicting nationalities, unless certain definite conditions are fulfilled before it is too late. The German-Austrian possessed vision. Accustomed to live in a great Empire, he had a keen sense of the obligations incumbent on him in such a situation. He was the only member of the Austrian State who looked beyond the borders of the narrow lands belonging to the Crown, to the frontiers of the Reich. Indeed when Destiny severed him from the common Fatherland he tried to master the tremendous task before him and to preserve for the German-Austrians that patrimony which, through innumerable struggles, their ancestors had originally wrested from the East. It must be remembered that the German-Austrians could not put their undivided strength into this effort, because the hearts and minds of the best among them were constantly turning back towards their kinsfolk in the Fatherland, so that their home claimed only part of their affection.
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The mental horizon of the German-Austrian was comparatively broad. His commercial interests comprised almost every part of the heterogeneous Empire. The conduct of almost all important undertakings was in his hands. The leading engineers and officials were for the most part of German origin. The German played the foremost part in carrying on the foreign trade of the country, as far as that sphere of activity was not under Jewish control. He was the political cement that held the State together. His military duties carried him far beyond the narrow frontiers of his homeland. Though the recruit might join a German regiment, that regiment was as likely to be stationed in Herzegovina as in Vienna or Galicia. The officers in the Habsburg armies were still Germans and so was the majority in the higher branches of the civil service. Art and science were in German hands. Apart from the new artistic trash, which might easily have been produced by a Negro tribe, all genuine artistic inspiration came from the German section of the population. In music, architecture, sculpture and painting, Vienna was the source which supplied the entire Dual Monarchy, and that source never seemed to show signs of drying up. Finally, it was the German element that determined the conduct of foreign, policy, though a small number of Hungarians were also active in that field. All efforts to save the State were, however, doomed to end in failure, because the essential prerequisites were missing. There was only one possible way to controlling and holding in check the centrifugal forces of the different and differing nationalities in the Austrian State. Either it had a central government and was, at the same time, internally organised, or it would cease to exist. Now and again there were lucid intervals in the highest quarters, when this truth was recognised, but it was soon forgotten again, or else deliberately ignored, because of the difficulties to be overcome in putting it into practice. Every project which aimed at giving the Empire a more federal shape was bound to be ineffective because there was no central nucleus in the form of a predominating state. In this connection it must be remembered that internal-conditions in Austria were quite different from those which characterized the German Reich as founded by Bismarck.
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Germany was faced with only one difficulty, which was that of transforming the purely political traditions, because throughout the whole of Bismarck’s Germany there was a common cultural basis. The German Reich contained only members of one and the same racial or national stock, with the exception of a few foreign minorities. Conditions in Austria were quite the reverse. With the exception of Hungary, none of the provinces possessed a political tradition of past greatness, or if they did, it was either obliterated or obscured by the passage of Time. Moreover, this was the epoch when the principle of nationality began to be in the ascendant, and that phenomenon awakened the national instincts in the various countries affiliated under the Habsburg sceptre. It was difficult to control the action of these newly awakened national forces, because, adjacent to the frontiers of the Dual Monarchy, new national States were springing up whose people were of the same or kindred racial stock as the respective nationalities that constituted the Habsburg Empire. These new States were able to exercise a greater power of attraction than the German element. Even Vienna could not hold her own indefinitely. When Budapest had developed into a great city, a rival had grown up whose mission was, not to help in holding together the various divergent parts of the Empire, but rather to strengthen one part. Within a short time Prague followed the example of Budapest, and later on came Lemberg, Laibach and others. The fact was that these places which had formerly been provincial cities, now became national capitals, and provided centres for a cultural life that was gradually becoming more and more independent. In this way national political instincts acquired a spiritual foundation and gained in depth. The time was bound to come when the particularist interests of those various countries would become stronger than common imperial interests. Once that stage was reached, Austria’s doom was sealed. The course of this development had been clearly perceptible since the death of Joseph II.
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Its rapidity depended on a number of factors, some of which had their origin in the monarchy itself, while others resulted from the position which the Empire held in the world of foreign politics. It was impossible to make anything like a successful effort for the permanent consolidation of the Austrian State unless a ruthless and persistent policy of centralisation were put into force. Before all, by the adoption, as a matter of principle, of one language as the official language of the State, the purely formal unity of the latter should have been emphasised, and thus the administration would have had in its hand that technical instrument without which the State could not endure as a political unity. Only if this had been done, could the schools and other forms of education have been used to inculcate a feeling of common citizenship. Such an objective could not be reached within ten or twenty years, but the effort would have to be envisaged in terms of centuries, just as, in all problems of colonisation, steady perseverance is a far more important element than intensive effort for a short period of time. It goes without saying that in such circumstances the country must be governed and administered by strict adhesion to the principle of uniformity. For me, it was quite instructive to discover why this did not take place, or rather, why it had not been done. Those who were guilty of the omission must be held responsible for the break-up of the Habsburg Empire. More than any other State, the old Austria depended on a strong and capable government. The Habsburg Empire lacked ethnical uniformity, which constitutes the fundamental basis of a national State and will preserve the existence of such a State even though the ruling power be grossly inefficient. When a State is composed of a homogeneous population, the natural inertia of the latter and the powers of resistance derived from that inertia will preserve it from internal collapse during astonishingly long periods of misgovernment and maladministration. It may often seem as if the life had died out of such a body-politic; but a time comes when the apparent corpse rises up and, gives the rest of the world astonishing proof of its indestructible vitality. The situation is utterly different in a country where the population is not homogeneous, where there is no bond of common blood, but only the rule of force.
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Should the ruling hand show signs of weakness in such a State, the result will not be to cause a kind of hibernation of the State, but rather to awaken the individualistic instincts of the various racial groups. These instincts do not make themselves felt as long as these groups are dominated by, a strong central will-to-govern. The danger which exists in these slumbering separatist instincts can be rendered more or less innocuous only through centuries of common education, common traditions and common interests. The younger such States are, the more does their existence depend on the ability and, strength of the central government. If their foundation is due only to the work of a strong personality or a leader who is man of genius, they will, in many cases, break up as soon the founder disappears; because, though great, he stood alone, but even after centuries the danger inherent in these separatist instincts I have spoken of, is not always completely overcome. They may be only dormant and may suddenly awaken when the central government shows weakness and the force of a common education as well as the dignity of a common tradition prove unable to withstand the vital energies of separatist nationalities forging ahead towards the shaping of their own individual existence. Failure to see the truth of all this constituted what may be called the tragic guilt of the Habsburg rulers. Only in the case of one Habsburg ruler, and that for the last time, did the hand of Destiny hold aloft the torch that threw light on the future of his country, but, thereafter the torch was then extinguished for ever. Joseph II, who ruled over the Holy Roman Empire of the German nation, was filled with a growing anxiety when he realised the fact that his House had been pushed to an outlying frontier of the Reich and that the time would soon be at hand when it would be overturned and engulfed in the whirlpool caused by that Babel of nationalities, unless something was done at the eleventh hour to overcome the dire consequences resulting from the negligence of his ancestors. With superhuman energy this ‘Friend of Mankind’ made every possible effort to counteract the effects of the carelessness and thoughtlessness of his predecessors. Within one decade he strove to repair the damage that had been done throughout the centuries.
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If Destiny had only granted him forty years for his labours, and if only two generations had carried on the work which he had begun, the miracle might have been performed. But when he died, broken in body and spirit after ten years of rulership, his work was buried with him in the grave and rests with him there in the Capucin Crypt, sleeping an eternal sleep, without hope of a reawakening. His successors had neither the ability nor the will-power necessary for the task they had to face. When the first signs of a new revolutionary epoch appeared in Europe, the infection gradually spread to Austria, and when the fire finally broke out it was fed and fanned not by discontent with the social or political conditions, but by forces that had their origin in the nationalist yearnings of the various groups. The European revolutionary movement of 1848 primarily took the form of a class-conflict in almost every other country, but in Austria it took the form of a new racial struggle. In so far as the German-Austrians there forgot the origins of the movement, or perhaps had failed to recognise them at the start and consequently took part in the revolutionary uprising, they sealed their own fate, for they thus helped to awaken the spirit of Western Democracy which, within a short while, shattered the foundations of their own existence. The setting up of a representative parliamentary body, without previously having decreed that there should be one, official language and without having firmly established the use of this language, was the first great blow to the predominance of the German element in the Dual Monarchy. From that moment, the State was also doomed to collapse sooner or later. What followed was nothing but the historical liquidation of an empire. To watch that process of progressive disintegration was a tragic and, at the same time, an instructive experience. The execution of history’s decree was carried out in thousands of ways. The fact that great numbers of people went about blindfolded amid the manifest signs of dissolution only proved that the gods had decreed the destruction of Austria. I do not wish to dwell on details because these would lie outside the scope of this book.
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I want to treat in detail only those events which are typical among the causes that lead to the decline of nations and States and are, therefore, of importance to our present age. Moreover, they helped to furnish the basis of my own political outlook. Among the institutions which most clearly manifested unmistakable signs of decay, even to the weak-sighted Philistine, was that which, of all state institutions, ought to have been the most firmly established, namely, the parliament, or the Reichsrat, as it was called in Austria. The pattern for this corporate body was obviously that which existed in England, the land of classic democracy. The constitution of that beneficent institution was adopted, lock, stock, and barrel, and transferred, with as little alteration as possible, to Vienna. As the Austrian counterpart to the British two-chamber system, an upper and a lower Chamber were established in Vienna. The two ‘Houses’ themselves, considered as buildings, were somewhat different in appearance. When Barry built the palatial Houses of Parliament, on the shores of the Thames, he could look to the history of the British Empire for inspiration for his work. In that history he found sufficient material to fill and decorate the twelve hundred niches, brackets, and pillars of his magnificent edifice. His statues and paintings made of the House of Lords and the House of Commons temples dedicated to the glory of the nation. Here it was that Vienna encountered the first difficulty. When Hansen, the Danish architect, had completed the last gable of the marble palace in which the new body of representatives of the people was to be housed, he had to turn to the ancient classical world for subjects for his decorations. This theatrical shrine of ‘Western Democracy’ was adorned with the statues and portraits of Greek and Roman statesmen and philosophers. As if meant to serve as an ironic symbol, the horses of the quadrigae that surmount the two Houses are pulling away from one another towards the four corners of the globe. There could be no better symbol for the kind of activity then going on within the walls of that same building. The ‘nationalities’ were opposed to any kind of glorification of Austrian history in the decoration of this building, insisting that such would constitute an insult and a provocation.
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Much the same happened in Germany, where it was not until the battles of the Great War were being waged that the inscription dedicating the Reichstag (which was built by Wallot) to the German people, was finally engraved. I was not yet twenty years of age when I first entered the fine building in the Franzensring to watch and listen during a session of the Lower Chamber. I was filled with conflicting feelings. I had always hated the parliament, but not as an institution in itself. On the contrary, as one who cherished ideals of political freedom, I could not even imagine any other form of government. In the light of my attitude towards the House of Habsburg I should then have considered it a crime against liberty and reason to think of any kind of dictatorship as a possible form of government. A certain admiration which I had for the British Parliament contributed towards the formation of this opinion. I became imbued with that feeling of admiration, almost without my being conscious of it, through so much reading of newspapers while I was yet quite young. I could not discard that admiration all in a moment. The dignified way in which the British House of Commons fulfilled its function impressed me greatly, thanks largely to the glowing terms in which the Austrian Press reported on its doings. I used to ask myself whether there could be any nobler form of selfgovernment by the people. These considerations furnished the very motives of my hostility to the Austrian parliament. The, form in which parliamentary government was here represented seemed unworthy of its great prototype. The following considerations also influenced my attitude: The fate of the German element in the Austrian State depended on its position in the Reichsrat. Up to the time that universal suffrage by secret ballot was introduced, the German representatives had a majority in the parliament, though that majority was not a very substantial one. This situation gave cause for anxiety because the Social Democratic faction could not be relied upon when national questions were at stake. In matters that were of critical concern for the German element, the Social-Democrats always took up an anti-German stand, because they were afraid of losing their followers among the other national groups.
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Even at that time the Social-Democratic party could no longer be considered as a German party. The introduction of universal suffrage put an end even to the purely numerical predominance of the German element. The way was now clear for the further ‘de-Germanisation’ of the Austrian State. The national instinct of self-preservation made it impossible for me to welcome a representative system in which the German element was not really represented as such, but was always betrayed. Yet all these, and many others, were defects which could not be attributed to the parliamentary system as such, but rather to the Austrian State in particular. I still believed that if the German majority could be restored in the representative body there would be no occasion to oppose such a system as long as the old Austrian State continued to exist. Such was my general attitude at the time when I first entered those sacred and contentious halls. For me they were sacred only because of the radiant beauty of that majestic edifice—a Greek miracle on German soil. But I soon became enraged by the hideous spectacle that met my eyes. Several hundred representatives were there to discuss a problem of great economic importance. The experience of that day was enough to supply me with food for thought for several weeks. The intellectual level of the debate was depressing. Sometimes the debaters did not make themselves intelligible at all. Several of those present did not speak German, but only their Slav vernaculars or even dialects. Thus I had the opportunity of hearing with my own ears what I had been hitherto acquainted with only through reading the newspapers—a turbulent mass of people, all gesticulating and bawling together, with a pathetic old man ringing his bell and making frantic efforts to call the House to a sense of its dignity, by friendly appeals, exhortations, and grave warnings. I could not refrain from laughing. Several weeks later I paid a second visit. This time the House presented an entirely different picture, so much so that one could hardly recognise it as the same place. The hall was practically empty.
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The very atmosphere was sleepy, only a few members were in their places, yawning in each other’s faces. One was speaking. A deputy speaker was in the chair. When he looked round it was quite plain that he felt bored. Then I began to reflect seriously on the whole thing. I went to the parliament whenever I had any time to spare and watched the spectacle silently, but attentively. I listened to the debates, as far as they were intelligible, and I studied the more or less intelligent features of those ‘elect’ representatives of the various nationalities which composed that ill-fated State. Gradually I formed my own ideas about what I saw. A year of such quiet observation was sufficient to transform, or completely destroy, my former opinion as to the character of this parliamentary institution. I no longer opposed merely the perverted form which the principle of parliamentary representation had assumed in Austria. It had become impossible for me to accept the system in itself. Up to that time I had believed that the disastrous, deficiencies of the Austrian parliament were due to the lack of a German majority, but now I recognised that the institution itself was wrong in its very essence and character. A number of problems presented themselves to my mind. I studied more closely the democratic principle of ‘decision by majority vote,’ and I scrutinised no less carefully the intellectual and moral worth of the gentlemen who as ‘the chosen representatives of the nation’ were entrusted with the task of making this institution function. Thus it happened that at one and the same time I came to know the institution itself and those of whom it was composed, and it was thus that, within the course of a few years, I came to form a clear and vivid picture of the average type of that most highly worshipped phenomenon of our time—the parliamentarian. The picture of him which I then formed became deeply engraved on my mind and I have never altered it since, at least as far as essentials go. Once again these object-lessons taken from real life saved me from getting firmly entangled by a theory which at first sight seems so alluring to many people; though that theory itself is a symptom of human decadence. Democracy, as practised in Western Europe to-day, is the forerunner of Marxism.
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In fact, the latter would not be conceivable without the former. Democracy is the breeding ground in which the bacilli of the Marxist world-pest can grow and spread. By the introduction of parliamentarianism, democracy produced an abortion of ‘filth and fire,’ the fire of which, however, seems to have died out. I am more than grateful to Fate that this problem came to my notice when I was still in Vienna, for if I had been in Germany at that time, I might easily have found only a superficial solution. If I had been in Berlin, when I first discovered what a ridiculous thing this institution was, which we called parliament, I might easily have gone to the other extreme and believed (as many people believed, and apparently not without good reason) that the salvation of the people and the Reich could be secured only by restrengthening the principle of imperial authority. Those who held this belief did not discern the tendencies of their time and were blind to the aspirations of the people. In Austria one could not be so easily misled. There it was impossible to fall from one error into another. If the parliament were worthless, the Habsburgs were worse, or at least not in the slightest degree better. The problem was not solved by rejecting the parliamentary system. Immediately the question arose: what then? To repudiate and abolish the Reichsrat would have resulted in leaving all power in the hands of the Habsburgs. For me especially, that idea was impossible. Since this problem was especially difficult in regard to Austria, I went into the whole question more thoroughly than I otherwise should have done at that early age. The aspect of the situation that first made the most striking impression on me and gave me grounds for serious reflection was the manifest lack of any individual responsibility in the representative body. Parliament passes some act or decree which may have the most devastating consequences, yet nobody bears the responsibility for it. Nobody can be called to account, for surely one cannot say that a Cabinet discharges its responsibility when it resigns after having brought about a catastrophe. Or can we say that the responsibility is fully discharged when a new coalition is formed or parliament dissolved? Can a fluctuating majority ever be held responsible for anything?
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Can the principle of responsibility mean anything else than the responsibility of a definite person? Is it possible to call the leader of any government to account for any action, the preparations for and execution of which are the outcome of the wishes and inclination of a majority? Is it not considered right that, instead of developing constructive ideas and plans, the business of a statesman consists in the art of making a whole pack of blockheads understand his projects so that they will grant him their generous consent? Is it an indispensable quality in a statesman that he should possess a gift of persuasion commensurate with the statesman’s ability to plan a far-reaching policy and take important decisions? Does it really prove that a statesman is incompetent if he should fail to gain a majority of votes in support of a definite scheme in an assembly which is the haphazard result of a more or less honest election? Has there ever been a case where such an assembly has comprehended a great political scheme before that scheme was put into practice and its greatness openly demonstrated through its success? In this world is not the creative act of the genius always a protest against the inertia of the mass? What shall the statesman do if he does not succeed in coaxing the parliamentary multitude to give its consent to his policy? Shall he purchase that consent? Or, when confronted with the obstinate stupidity of his fellow-citizens, should he refrain from pushing forward with the measures which lie deems to be of vital necessity to the life of the nation? Should he resign or remain in power? In such circumstances does not a man of character find himself face to face with an insoluble contradiction between his own political insight on the one hand and, on the other, his sense of decency or, better still, of honesty? Where can we draw the line between duty to the public and the obligation under which personal honour places a man? Must not every genuine leader renounce the idea of degrading himself to the level of a political jobber?
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And, on the other hand, does not every jobber feel the itch to ‘play politics,’ seeing that the final responsibility will never rest with him personally, but with an anonymous mass which can never be called to account for its actions? Must not our parliamentary principle of government by numerical majority necessarily had to the destruction of the principle of leadership? Does anybody honestly believe that human progress originates in the composite brain of the majority and not in the brain of the individual? Or, is it presumed that in the future, human civilisation will be able to dispense with this as a condition of its existence? Is not the creative brain of the individual more indispensable to-day than ever before? The parliamentary principle of vesting legislative power in the decision of the majority rejects the authority of the individual and puts in its place the strength of the majority in question. In doing so, it contradicts the aristocratic principle, which is a fundamental law of Nature, but of course, we must remember that the aristocratic principle need not be exemplified by the upper ten thousand to-day. The devastating influence of this modem and democratic parliamentary institution might not easily be recognised by those who read the Jewish press, unless the reader has learned how to think independently and to examine the facts for himself. This institution is primarily responsible for the inrush of second-rate people into the field of politics. Confronted with such a phenomenon, a man who is endowed with real qualities of leadership will be tempted to refrain from taking part in political life, because under these conditions the situation does not call for a man who has a capacity for constructive statesmanship, but rather for a man who is, capable of bargaining for the favour of the majority. All the more will this activity appeal to small minds and will attract them accordingly. The narrower the mental outlook, the more insignificant the ability and the more accurate the estimate such a political jobber has of his own inferiority, the more will he be inclined to appreciate a system which does not demand creative genius or even high-class talent, but rather that crafty kind of sagacity which makes an efficient town clerk, and even prefers this kind of petty craftiness to the political genius of a Pericles.
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Such a mediocrity does not even have to worry about responsibility for what he does. He need not trouble on that account, since, from the beginning, he knows that whatever be the results of his ‘statesmanship’ his end is already written in the stars—he will one day have to clear out and make room for another who is of similar mental calibre. It is another sign of our decadence that the number of eminent statesmen grows as the standard by which the individual is judged becomes lower, and that standard will fall the more the individual politician has to depend upon parliamentary majorities. A man of real political ability will refuse to act the lackey to a bevy of footling tacklers, and they, in their turn, being the representatives of the majority—which means the dunder-headed multitude—hate nothing so much as a superior brain. It is always a consolation to such village councillors from Gotham to be led by a person whose intellectual stature is on a level with their own. Thus each one may have the opportunity to shine in debate among such compeers and, above all, each one feels that he may one day rise to the top. If Peter be boss to-day, then why not Paul to-morrow? This invention of democracy is very closely connected with a peculiar phenomenon which has recently spread to a pernicious extent, namely, the cowardice of a large section of our so-called political leaders. Whenever important decisions have to be made, they are always fortunate in being able to hide behind the so-called majority. In observing one of these political manipulators one notices how he wheedles the majority in order to get their sanction for whatever action he takes. He has to have accomplices in order to be able to shift responsibility to other shoulders whenever he finds it opportune to do so. That is the main reason why this kind of political activity is abhorrent to men of character and courage, while at the same time it attracts inferior types, for a person who is not willing to accept responsibility for his own actions, but always seeks to be covered, roust be classed among the cowards aid the rascals. If the leaders of the nation are of such miserable stuff, the evil consequences will soon manifest themselves. Nobody will then have the courage to take a decisive step.
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They will submit to abuse and defamation rather than pluck up courage to take a definite stand, and thus nobody is left who is willing to risk his life, if need be, in carrying out a ruthless decision. One truth which must always be borne in mind is that the majority can never replace the man. The majority represents not only ignorance but also cowardice, and just as a hundred blockheads do not equal one man of wisdom, so a hundred poltroons are incapable of taking any political line of action that requires moral strength and fortitude. The lighter the burden of responsibility on each individual leader, the greater will be the number of those who, in spite of their sorry mediocrity, will feel the call to place their immortal talents at the: disposal of the nation. They are so much on the tip-toe of expectation that they find it hard to wait their turn. They stand in a long queue, painfully and sadly counting the number of those ahead of them and calculating the hours until, they can eventually come forward. They are delighted every time the holder of the office on which they have set in their hearts, is changed and they are grateful for every scandal which removes one of the aspirants waiting ahead of them in the queue. If somebody sticks too long to his office stool they consider this almost a breach of a sacred understanding based on their mutual solidarity. They grow furious and do not rest until that inconsiderate person is finally driven out and forced to hand over his cosy berth. After that he will have little chance of getting another opportunity. Usually these placemen who have been forced to give up their posts push themselves again into the waiting queue unless they are hounded away by the protests of the other aspirants. The result of all this is that, in such a State, the quick succession of changes in public positions and public offices has a very unfavourable effect which may easily lead to disaster. It is not only the ignorant and the incompetent person who is the victim of these conditions, for the genuine leader is affected in an even greater degree, if Fate has actually succeeded in putting such a man into that position. Let the superior quality of such a leader be once recognised and the result will be that a joint front will be organised against him, particularly if that leader, though not coming from their ranks, dares to push his way into the circles of the elect.
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They want to have only their own company and will quickly take up a hostile attitude towards any man who may show himself obviously above and beyond them. Their instinct, which is so blind in other directions, is very sharp in this particular. The inevitable result is that the intellectual level of the ruling class sinks steadily. One can easily forecast how much the nation and the State are bound to suffer from such a state of affairs, provided one does not belong to that same class of ‘leaders.’ The parliamentary regime in the old Austria was the very archetype of the institution as I have described it. Though the Austrian Premier was appointed by the King-Emperor, this act of appointment merely gave practical effect to the will of the parliament. The huckstering and bargaining that went on in regard to every ministerial position was typical of Western Democracy. The results that followed were in keeping with the principles applied. The intervals between the replacement of one person by another gradually became shorter, finally ending up in a wild relay race. With each change the quality of the statesman in question deteriorated, until finally only the petty type of parliamentarian remained. In such people the qualities of statesmanship were measured and valued according to the adroitness with which they pieced together one coalition after another, in other words, to their craftiness is manipulating the pettiest political transactions, which is the only kind of practical activity by means of which these men can prove themselves to be suitable representative of the people. In this sphere Vienna was the school which offered the most impressive examples. Another feature that engaged my attention quite as much was the contrast between the talents and knowledge of these representatives of the people, on the one hand, and, on the other, the nature of the tasks they had to face. Willy-nilly one could not help thinking seriously of the narrow intellectual outlook of these chosen representatives of the various constituent nationalities, and one could not avoid pondering on the methods by which these noble figures in our public life were first discovered.
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It was worth while to make a thorough study and examination of the way in which the real talents of these gentlemen were devoted to the service of their country; in other words, to analyse thoroughly the routine of their activities. The whole spectacle of parliamentary life became more and more desolate the more one penetrated into its intimate structure and studied the persons and principles of the system in a spirit of ruthless objectivity. Indeed it is very necessary to be strictly objective in the study of the institution whose sponsors talk of ‘objectivity’ in every other sentence, as the only fair basis of examination and judgment. If one studied these gentlemen and the laws governing their strenuous existence, the results were surprising. There is no other principle which turns out to be quite so ill-conceived as the parliamentary principle, if we examine it objectively. In our examination of it we may pass over the methods according to which the election of the representatives takes place, as well as the wiles which bring them into office and bestow new titles on them. It is quite evident that only to a tiny degree are public wishes or public needs satisfied by the manner in which an election takes place, for everybody who properly estimates the political intelligence of the masses, can easily see that this is not sufficiently developed to enable them to form general political judgments on their own account, or to select the men who might be competent to carry out their ideas in practice. Whatever definition we may give of the term ‘public opinion,’ only a very, small part of it originates in personal experience or individual insight. The greater portion of it results from the manner in which public matters have been presented to the people through an overwhelmingly impressive and persistent system of ‘enlightenment.’ In the religious sphere the profession of a denominational belief is largely the result of education, while the religious yearning itself slumbers in the soul; so, too, the political opinions of the masses are the final result of influences systematically operating on human sentiment and intelligence in virtue of a method which is applied sometimes with almost incredible thoroughness and perseverance. By far the most effective part in political education, which, in this connection, is best expressed by the word ‘propaganda,’ is that played by the press.
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The press is the chief means employed in the process of political ‘enlightenment’. It represents a kind of school for adults. This educational activity, however, is not in the hands of the State, but in the clutches of powers which are partly of a very inferior character. While still a young man in Vienna, I had excellent opportunities for getting to know the men who owned this machine for mass instruction, as well as those who supplied it with the ideas it propagated. At first I was quite surprised when I realised how little time was necessary for this dangerous ‘Great Power’ within the State to produce a certain belief among the public— even when the genuine will and convictions of the public were completely misconstrued. It took the press only, a few days to transform some ridiculously trivial matter into an issue of national importance, while vital problems were completely ignored or shelved and hidden away from public attention. The press succeeded in the magic art of producing names from nowhere within the course of a few weeks. It made it appear that the great hopes of the masses were bound up with those names, and made their bearers more popular than many a man of real ability could ever hope to be in a long lifetime; at the same time old and tried figures in the political and other spheres of public life quickly faded from the public memory and were forgotten as if dead, though still in the full enjoyment of their health. Yet these were names which only a month before, had been unknown and unheard-of. Sometimes such men were so vilely abused that it looked as if their names would soon stand as permanent symbols of the worst kind of baseness. In order to estimate properly the really pernicious influence which the press can exercise one has only to study this infamous Jewish method whereby honourable and decent people are besmirched with mud and filth, in the form of low abuse and slander, from hundreds of quarters simultaneously, as if in response to some magic formula. These intellectual pickpockets would grab at anything which might serve their evil ends. They would poke their noses into the most intimate family affairs and would not rest until they had sniffed out some petty item which could be used to destroy the reputation of their unfortunate victim.
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But if the result of all this nosing should be that nothing derogatory was discovered in the private or public, life of the victim, they resorted to slander, in the belief that some of their animadversions would stick, even though refuted a thousand times. In most cases it finally turned out impossible for the victim to continue his defence, because the accuser worked together with so many accomplices that his slanders were re-echoed interminably. But these slanderers would never own that they were acting from motives which influence the common run of humanity or are comprehensible in them. Oh, no! The scoundrel who defamed his contemporaries in this villainous way would crown himself with a halo of heroic probity fashioned of unctuous phraseology and twaddle about his ‘duties as a journalist’ and other lying nonsense of that kind. When these slanderers gathered together in large numbers at meetings and congresses they would utter a lot of slimy talk about a special kind of honour which they called the ‘professional honour of the journalist.’ Then the assembled species would bow their respects to one another. This is the kind of being that fabricates more than two-thirds of what is called public opinion, from the foam of which the parliamentary Aphrodite eventually arises. Several volumes would be needed if one were to give an adequate account of the whole procedure and fully describe all its hollow fallacies, but if we pass over the details, and look at the product itself and its activities, I think this alone will be sufficient to open the eyes of even the most innocent and, credulous person; so that he may recognise the absurdity of this institution by looking at it objectively. In order to realise how this form of human aberration is as harmful as it is absurd, the best and easiest method is to compare democratic parliamentarianism with a genuine Germanic Democracy. The remarkable characteristic of the parliamentary form of democracy is the fact that a number of persons, let us say five hundred including, in recent times, women also are elected to parliament and invested with authority to give final judgment on anything and everything.
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In practice, they alone are the governing body; for, although they may appoint a Cabinet, which seems outwardly to direct the affairs of state, this Cabinet is only a sham. In reality the so-called government cannot do anything against the consent of the assembly. It can never be called to account for anything, since the right of decision is not vested in the Cabinet, but in the parliamentary majority. The Cabinet always functions only as the executor of the will of the majority. Its political ability, can be judged only according to how far it succeeds in adjusting itself to the will of the majority or in persuading the majority to agree to its proposals, but this means that it must descend from the level of a real governing power to that of a mendicant who has to beg the favour of the majority. Indeed the chief preoccupation of the Cabinet must be to secure for itself, in the case of each individual measure, the favour of the majority, or to establish a new one that will be more favourably disposed. If it should succeed in either of these efforts, it may go on ‘governing’ for a little while, if it should fail, it must reign. The question whether its policy as such has been right or wrong does not matter at all. All responsibility is thereby practically abolished. To what consequences such a state of affairs can lead may be easily understood from the following simple observations. Those five hundred deputies who have been elected by the people have followed various callings and show very varying degrees of political capacity, with the result that the whole combination is disjointed and sometimes presents quite a sorry picture. Surely nobody believes that these chosen representatives of the nation are the choice spirits or first class intellects. Nobody, I hope, is foolish enough to pretend that hundreds of statesmen can emerge from papers placed in the ballot-box by electors who are anything but intelligent. The absurd notion that men of genius are born out of universal suffrage cannot be too strongly repudiated. A nation produces a genuine statesman once in the space of many years, and never by the hundred. Secondly, among the broad masses there is an instinctive antipathy towards every outstanding genius. There is a better chance of seeing a camel pass through the needle’s eye than of seeing a really great man ‘discovered’ through an election.
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Throughout the history of the world, those who have been above the average have generally come to the fore of their own accord, but here five hundred persons possessing but modest intellectual qualities pass judgment on the most important problems affecting the nation. They form governments, which, in turn, have to gain the consent of the illustrious assembly for every legislative step that may be taken, which means that the policy to be carried out is actually the policy of the five hundred, and generally speaking, this is obvious. Let us pass over the intellectual qualities of these representatives and ask what is the nature of the task before them. If we consider the fact that the problems which have to be discussed and solved belong to the most varied and diverse fields, we can very well realise how inefficient a governing system must be, which entrusts the right of decision to a mass assembly, in which only very few possess the knowledge and experience which would qualify them to deal with the matters that have to be settled. The most important economic measures are submitted to a tribunal in which not more than one-tenth of the members have studied the elements of economics. This means that final authority is vested in men who are utterly devoid of any preparatory training which would make them competent to decide on the questions at issue. The same holds true of every other problem. It is always a majority of ignorant and incompetent people who decide on each measure, for the composition of the institution does not vary, while the problems to be dealt with extend to the most varied spheres of public life and would actually require to be weighed and settled by a continually changing body of representatives. It is out of the question to think that the same people are fitted to decide on transport questions as well as, let us say, on questions of foreign policy, unless each of them be a universal genius, but scarcely more than one genius appears in the course of a century. Here, unfortunately, it is seldom a question of even average brains, but only of dilettanti who are as narrow-minded as they are conceited and arrogant, semi-educated persons of the worst kind.
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This is why these honourable gentlemen show such astonishing levity in discussing and deciding matters that would demand the most painstaking consideration even from great minds. Measures of momentous importance for the future existence of the State are framed and discussed in an atmosphere more suited to the card-table. Indeed the latter suggests a much more fitting occupation for these gentlemen than that of deciding the destiny of a people. Of course it would be unfair to assume that each member in such a parliament originally possessed such a slight sense of responsibility. That is not so, but this system, by forcing the individual to pass judgment on questions which he is not competent to decide gradually debases his moral character. Nobody will have the courage to say, “Gentlemen, I am afraid we know nothing of what we are talking about. I, for one, admit this.” Anyhow, if such a declaration were made it would not change matters very much, for such outspoken honesty would not be understood and such an honourable fool ought not to be allowed to spoil the game. Those who have a knowledge of human nature know that nobody likes to be considered a fool by his associates, and in certain circles honesty is taken as an index of stupidity. Thus it happens that a naturally upright man, once he finds himself elected to parliament, may eventually be induced by force of circumstances, to acquiesce in a general line of conduct which is base in itself and amounts to a betrayal of the public trust. The feeling that, if the individual refrained from taking part in a certain decision, his attitude would not alter the situation in the least, destroys every real honest instinct which might occasionally prick the conscience of one person or another. Finally, the otherwise upright deputy will succeed in persuading himself that he is by no means the worst of the lot and that, by taking part in a certain line of action, he may prevent something worse from happening. A counter-argument may be put forward here. It may be said that of course the individual member may not have the knowledge which is requisite for the treatment of this or that question, yet his attitude towards it is taken on the advice of his party as the guiding authority in each political matter; and it may further be said that the party sets up special committees of experts who have even more than the requisite knowledge for dealing with the questions placed before them.
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At first sight, that argument seems sound. But then another question arises, namely, why are five hundred persons elected, if only a few have the wisdom which is required to deal with the more important problems? That is just the point. It is not the aim of our modern democratic parliamentary system to bring together an assembly of intelligent and well-informed deputies. Not at all. The aim is rather to bring together a group of nonentities who are dependent on others for their point of view and who can be the more easily led, the narrower their individual mental outlook. That is the only way in which a party policy, according to the evil meaning it has to-day, can be put into effect, and by this method alone is it possible for the wire-puller, who exercises the real control, to remain in the dark, so that he personally can never be brought to account for his actions. For, in such circumstances none of the decisions taken, no matter how disastrous they may turn out for the nation as a whole, can be laid at the door of the individual whom everybody knows to be the evil genius responsible for the whole affair, all responsibility is shifted to the shoulders of the faction (party caucus). In practice, no actual responsibility remains, for responsibility arises only from personal duty and not from the obligations that rest with a parliamentary assembly of empty talkers. The parliamentary institution attracts people of the badger type, who shun the light. Any upright man, who is ready to accept personal responsibility for his actions, will despise such an institution. That is the reason why this brand of democracy has become a tool in the hands of that race which, because of its secret aims, must shun the light, as it always has done and always will do. Only a Jew can praise an institution which is as corrupt and as false as himself. As a contrast to this kind of democracy we have the Germanic democracy, which is a true democracy, for here the leader is freely chosen and is obliged to accept full responsibility for all his actions and omissions. The problems to be dealt with are not put to the vote of the majority, but are decided by the individual and as a guarantee of the sincerity of his decisions, he pledges all he has in the world and even his life.
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The objection may be raised here, that under such conditions, it would be very difficult to find a man who would be ready to devote himself to so fateful a task. The answer to that objection is as follows: We thank God that the inner spirit of our German democracy will of itself prevent the chance careerist, who may be intellectually worthless and a moral twister, from coming by devious ways to a position in which he may govern his fellow-citizens. The fear of assuming such far-reaching responsibilities, under Germanic democracy, will scare off the ignorant and the weak. Should it happen that such a person tried to creep in surreptitiously, it will be easy enough to identify him and apostrophize him ruthlessly, somewhat thus, “Be off, you scoundrel. Do not soil these steps with your feet; because these are the steps that lead to the portals of the Pantheon of History, and they are not meant for sneaks but for heroes.” Such were the views I formed after two years attendance at the sessions of the Viennese parliament. Then I ceased to go there. The parliamentary regime was one of the causes of the steady decline of the strength of the Habsburg State during the last years of its existence. The more the predominance of the German element was whittled away through parliamentary procedure, the more pronounced became the system of playing off one of the various constituent nationalities against the other. In the Reichsrat it was always the German element that suffered through the system, which meant that the results were detrimental to the Empire as a whole, for at the close of the century even the most simple-minded people could recognise that the cohesive forces within the Dual Monarchy no longer sufficed to counterbalance the separatist tendencies of the provincial nationalities. On the contrary, as the measures which the State was able to adopt for its own preservation became more and more ineffectual the general contempt for the State increased. Not only Hungary, but also the various Slav provinces, gradually ceased to identify themselves with the monarchy which embraced them all and, accordingly, they did not feel its weakness as in any way detrimental to themselves.
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They rather welcomed these manifestations of senile decay. They looked forward to the final dissolution of the State, and not to its recovery. In the parliament the complete collapse was postponed by the humiliating concessions that were made to every kind of importunate demand at the expense of the German element; while, throughout the country, it was staved off by playing off the various nationalities one against another. The general trend of this development was directed against the Germans. Especially since the right of succession to the throne had given the Archduke Franz Ferdinand a certain amount of influence, the policy of Czechisation was being carried out systematically. With all the means at his command the heir to the Dual Monarchy personally furthered the policy that aimed at eliminating the influence of the German element, or at least he approved of that policy. By making use of State officials, purely German districts were gradually but definitely brought within the danger zone of the mixed languages. Even in Lower Austria this process began to make headway with constantly increasing speed, and Vienna was looked upon by many Czechs as their largest city. In the family circle of this new Habsburger the Czech language was favoured. The wife of the Archduke had formerly been a Czech countess and was wedded to the Prince by a morganatic marriage. She came from an environment where hostility to the Germans had been traditional. The leading idea in the mind of the Archduke was to establish in Central Europe a Slav State which was to be constructed on a purely Catholic basis, as a bulwark against Orthodox Russia. As had happened often in Habsburg history, religion was thus exploited to serve a purely political policy, and in this case a fatal policy, at least, as far as German interests were concerned. The result was lamentable in many respects. Neither the House of Habsburg nor the Catholic Church received the reward which they had expected. Habsburg lost the throne and the Church lost a great State. By employing religious motives in the service of politics, a spirit was aroused of which the instigators of that policy had never dreamed.
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The reply to the attempt to exterminate Germanism in the old Monarchy by every available means was the Pan-German Movement in Austria. In the eighties of the last century, Manchester-Liberalism, which was Jewish in its fundamental ideas, had reached the zenith of its influence in the Dual Monarchy, or had already passed that point. The reaction which set-in, did not arise from social, but from nationalist, tendencies, as was always the case in the old Austria. The instinct of self-preservation drove the German element to defend itself energetically. Economic considerations only slowly began to play an important part; but they were of secondary concern. Out of the general political chaos two party organisations emerged. The one was more of a national, and the other more of a social, character, but both were highly interesting and instructive for the future. After the war of 1866, which had resulted in the defeat of Austria, the House of Habsburg contemplated having its revenge on the battlefield. Only the tragic end of the Emperor Maximilian of Mexico prevented still closer collaboration with France. The chief blame for Maximilian’s disastrous expedition was attributed to Napoleon III and the fact that the Frenchman left him in the lurch aroused a general feeling of indignation. Yet the Habsburgs were still lying in wait for their opportunity. If the war of 1870–71 had not been such a singular triumph, the Viennese Court might have risked bloodshed in order to have its revenge for Sadowa. But when there arrived from the Franco-German battlefield the first reports which, though true, seemed miraculous and almost incredible, the ‘most wise’ of all monarchs recognised that the moment was inopportune and tried to accept the unfavourable situation with as good a grace as possible. The heroic conflict of those two years (1870–71) produced a still greater miracle, for, with the Habsburg the change of attitude never came from an inner heartfelt urge, but only from the pressure of circumstances. The German people of the Ostmark, however, were entranced by the triumphant glory of the newly established German Empire and were profoundly moved when they saw the dream of their fathers thus gloriously realised.
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Let us make no mistake, the true German-Austrian realised from this time onward, that Koniggratz was the tragic, though necessary, pre-condition for the re-establishment of a Reich which should no longer be burdened with the palsy of the old alliance and which indeed had no share in that morbid decay. Above all, the German-Austrian had come to feel in the very depths of his own being that the historical mission of the House of Habsburg had come to an end and that the new Reich must choose only an Emperor who was of heroic mould and was therefore worthy to wear the ‘Crown of the Rhine.’ Destiny should be praised for having chosen a scion of that House which, in a turbulent age, had given the nation a shining example for all time, in the shape of Frederick the Great. After the great war of 1870–71 the House of Habsburg set to work fully determined to exterminate slowly and deliberately (for that was bound to be the result of the Slavophile policy) the dangerous German element about whose inner feelings and attitude there could be no doubt. Then the fire of rebellion blazed up among the people whose extermination had been decreed—a fire such as had never been witnessed in modem German history. For the first time nationalists and patriots were transformed into rebels; not rebels against the nation or the State as such but rebels against a form of government which, they were convinced, would inevitably bring about the ruin of their own people. For the first time in modem history the traditional dynastic patriotism and national love of Fatherland and people were in open conflict. It was to the credit of the Pan-German movement in Austria during the closing decade of the last century that it pointed out clearly and unequivocally that a State is entitled to demand respect and protection for its authority, only when such authority is administered in accordance with the interests of the nation, or at least not in a manner detrimental to those interests. The authority of the State can never be an end in itself; for, if that were so, any kind of tyranny would be inviolable and sacred. If a government uses the instruments of power in its hands for the purpose of leading a people to ruin, then rebellion is not only the right, but also the duty, of every individual citizen.
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The question of whether and when such a situation arises cannot be answered by theoretical dissertations, but only by sheer force and success. Every government, even though it may be the worst possible and even though it may have betrayed the nation’s trust in thousands of ways, will claim that its duty is to uphold the authority of the State. Its adversaries, who are fighting for national self-preservation, must use the same weapons which the government uses if they are to prevail against such a rule and secure their own freedom and independence. Therefore the conflict will be fought out with ‘legal’ means as long as the power which is to be overthrown uses them; but the insurgents will not hesitate to apply illegal means if the oppressor himself employs them. Generally speaking, we must not forget that the highest aim of human existence is not the preservation of a State or government but rather the preservation of the race. If the race is in danger of being oppressed or even exterminated, the question of legality is only of secondary importance. The established power may, in such a case, employ only those means which are recognised as ‘legal,’ yet the instinct of self-preservation on the part of the oppressed will always justify, to the highest degree, the employment of all available weapons. It is only through recognition of this principle that certain peoples of this earth have, in the course of history, been able to set such a magnificent example in their struggle against the foreign oppressor or tyranny at home. Human rights are above the right of the State. But if a people be defeated in the struggle for its human rights this means that its weight has proved too light in the scale of Destiny to be worthy of the good fortune to continue to exist on earth. For the doom of those who are neither prepared nor able to fight for their existence is sealed by an ever-just providence. The world is not for faint-hearted races. Austria affords a very clear and striking example of how easy it is for tyranny to hide its head under the cloak of what is called ‘legality.’
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The legal exercise of power in the Habsburg State was then based on the anti-German attitude of the parliament, with its non-German majorities, and on the dynastic House, which was also hostile to the German element. The whole authority of the State was incorporated in these two factors. To attempt to alter the lot of the German element through these two factors would have been senseless. Those who advocated the ‘legal’ way as the only possible way, and also obedience to the State authority, could offer no resistance; because a policy of resistance could not have been put into effect through legal measures. To follow the advice of the legalist counsellors would have meant the inevitable ruin of the German element within the Monarchy, and this disaster would not have been long in coming. The German element was actually saved only by the collapse of the State as such. The spectacled theorist would have given his life for his doctrine rather than for his people. Because man has made laws, he subsequently comes to think that he exists for the sake of those laws. A great service rendered by the Pan-German movement then was that it abolished all such nonsense, though the doctrinaire theorists and other fetish worshippers were shocked. When the Habsburgs attempted to come to close quarters with the German element, by the employment of all the means of attack which they had at their command, the Pan-German Party hit out ruthlessly against the ‘illustrious’ dynasty. This party was the first to probe into and expose the corrupt condition of the State; and in so doing it opened the eyes of hundreds of thousands. To have liberated the high ideal of love for one’s country from the embrace of this deplorable dynasty was one of the great services rendered by the Pan-German movement. When that part first made its appearance it secured a large following. Indeed, the movement threatened to become almost an avalanche, but the first successes were not maintained. At the time I went to Vienna the Pan-German Party had been eclipsed by the Christian-Socialist Party, which had come into power in the meantime. Indeed, the Pan-German Party had sunk to a level of almost complete insignificance.
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The rise and decline of the Pan-German movement, on the one hand, and the marvellous progress of the Christian-Socialist Party, on the other, became for me an object of study and as such they played an important part in the development of my own views. When I went to Vienna all my sympathies were exclusively with the Pan-German movement. I was just as much impressed by the fact that they had the courage to shout Heil Hohenzollern as I rejoiced at their determination to consider themselves an integral part of the German Reich, from which they were separated only temporarily. They never missed an opportunity of explaining their attitude in public, which roused my enthusiasm and confidence. To avow one’s principles publicly on every problem that concerned Germanism, and never to make any compromises, seemed to me the only way to save our people. What I could not understand was how this movement broke down so soon, after such a magnificent start, and it was no less incomprehensible that the Christian-Socialists should gain such tremendous power within the same space of time. They had just reached the pinnacle of their popularity. When I began to compare those two movements, Fate placed before me the best means of understanding the causes of this puzzling problem. The action of Fate was, in this case, hastened by my own straitened circumstances. I shall begin my analysis with an account of the two men who must be regarded as the founder and leaders of the two movements. These were Georg von Schönerer and Dr. Karl Lueger. As far as personality goes, both were far above the level of the average parliamentary figure. They lived lives of immaculate and irreproachable probity amidst the bog of all-round political corruption. Personally, I first liked the Pan-German representative, Schönerer, and it was only afterwards and gradually that I felt an equal liking for the Christian-Socialist leader. When I compared their respective abilities, Schönerer seemed to me a better and more profound thinker on fundamental problems. He foresaw the inevitable downfall of the Austrian State more clearly and accurately than anyone else. If this warning in regard to the Habsburg Empire had been heeded in Germany, the disastrous World War, which involved Germany against the whole of Europe, would never have taken place.
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But though Schönerer succeeded in penetrating to the essential of a problem he was often very much mistaken in his judgment of men. Herein lay Dr. Lueger’s special talent. He had a rare gift of insight into human nature and he was very careful not to take men as something better than they were in reality. He based his plans on the practical possibilities which human life offered him, whereas Schönerer had very little understanding of this. All the ideas that this Pan-German protagonist had were right in the abstract, but he did not have the forcefulness or understanding necessary to convey his ideas to the broad masses. He was not able to formulate them so that they could be easily grasped by the masses, whose powers of comprehension are limited and will always remain so. Therefore, all Schönerer’s knowledge was only the wisdom of a prophet and he never succeeded in putting it into practice. This lack of insight into human nature led him to form a wrong estimate of certain movements and old institutions. Schönerer realised, indeed, that the problems he had to deal with were in the nature of a Weltanschauung; but he did not understand that only the broad masses of a nation can make such convictions, which are almost of a religious nature, prevail. Unfortunately, he understood only very imperfectly how feeble is the fighting spirit of the so-called bourgeoisie. That weakness is due to their business interests, which individuals are too much afraid of risking and which therefore deter them from taking action. Generally speaking, a Weltanschauung can have no prospect of success, unless the broad masses declare themselves ready to act as its champion and to fight on its behalf wherever and to whatever extent that may be necessary. This failure to understand the importance of the lower strata of the population resulted in a very inadequate conception of the social problem. In all this Dr. Lueger was the opposite of Schönerer. His profound knowledge of human nature enabled him to form a correct estimate of the various social forces and it saved him from underrating the power of existing institutions, It was perhaps this very quality which enabled him to utilise those institutions as a means to serve the purposes of his policy.
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He saw only too clearly that, in our epoch, the political fighting power of the upper classes is quite insignificant and not at all capable of fighting for the triumph of a great new movement. Thus he devoted the greatest part of his political activity to the task of winning over those sections of the population whose existence was in danger, a fact which tended to foster, rather than to paralyse, the militant spirit in them. He was also quick to adopt all available means for winning the support of long established institutions, so as to be able to derive the greatest possible advantage for his movement from those old sources of power. Thus it was that, first of all, he chose as the social basis of his new party that middle class which was threatened with extinction. In this way, he secured a solid following which was willing to make great sacrifices and had good fighting stamina. His extremely wise attitude towards the Catholic Church rapidly won over the younger clergy in such large numbers that the old clerical party was forced to retire from the field of action or else, and this was the wiser course, join the new party, in the hope of gradually winning back one position after another. It would be a serious injustice to the man if we were to regard this as his essential characteristic, for he possessed not only the qualities of an able tactician, but had the true genius of a great reformer although this was limited by his exact perception of the possibilities at hand and also of his own capabilities. The aims which this really eminent man decided to pursue were intensely practical. He wished to conquer Vienna, the heart of the Monarchy. It was from Vienna that the last pulses of life beat through the diseased and worn-out body of the decrepit Empire. If the heart could be made healthier, the other parts of the body were bound to revive. That idea was correct in principle, but the time within which it could be applied in practice was strictly limited, and that was Lueger’s weak point. His achievements as Burgomaster of the City of Vienna are immortal, in the best sense of the word, but all that could not save the Monarchy. It came too late. His rival, Schönerer, saw this more clearly.
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What Dr. Lueger undertook to put into practice turned out marvellously successful, but the results which he expected to follow these achievements did not come. Schönerer did not attain the ends he had proposed to himself, but his fears were realised, alas, in a terrible fashion. Thus both these men failed to attain their further objectives. Lueger could not save Austria and Schönerer could not prevent the downfall of the German people. To study the causes of the failure of these two parties is to learn a lesson that is highly instructive for our own epoch. This is especially useful for my friends, because in many points the circumstances of our own day are similar to those of that time. Therefore, such a lesson may help us to guard against the mistakes which brought one of those movements to an end and rendered the other barren of results. In my opinion, the wreck of the Pan-German movement in Austria must be attributed to three causes. The first of these consisted in the fact that the leaders did not have a clear concentration of the importance of the social problem, particularly for a new movement which had an essentially revolutionary character. Schönerer and his followers directed their attention principally to the bourgeois classes. For that reason, their movement was bound to turn out mediocre and tame. The German bourgeoisie, especially in its upper circles, is —though the individual may not be aware of this—pacifist even to the point of complete self-abnegation wherever the internal affairs of the nation or State are concerned. In good times, which in this case means times of good government, such an attitude makes this social class extraordinarily valuable to the State, but when there is a bad government, such a quality has a destructive effect. In order to ensure the possibility of carrying through a really strenuous struggle, the Pan-German movement should have devoted its efforts to winning over the masses. The failure to do this left the movement from the very beginning without the elementary impulse which such a wave needs if it is not to ebb within a short while.
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In failing to see the truth of this principle clearly at the very outset of the movement, and in neglecting to put it into practice, the new party made an initial mistake which could riot possibly be rectified afterwards, for the numerous moderate bourgeois elements admitted into the movement increasingly determined its internal orientation and thus destroyed all further prospects of gaining any appreciable support among the masses of the people. Under such conditions such a movement could not get beyond mere discussion and criticism. A faith that was almost religious and the spirit of sacrifice were no longer to be found in the movement. Their place was taken by the effort towards ‘positive’ collaboration, which in this case meant to acknowledge the existing state of affairs, gradually to tone down the bitterness of the dispute and to finish up by making a dishonourable peace. Such was the fate of the Pan-German movement, because at the start the leaders did not realise that the most important condition of success was that they should recruit their following from the broad masses of the people. The movement thus became bourgeois and respectable and radical only in moderation. The second cause of its rapid decline was due to this mistake. The position of the Germans in Austria was already desperate when Pan-Germanism arose. Year by year parliament was being used more and more as an instrument for the gradual extinction of the German-Austrian population. The only hope of an eleventh-hour effort to save it lay in the overthrow of the parliamentary system, but there was very little prospect of this happening. Consequently, the Pan-German movement was confronted with a question of primary importance. To overthrow the parliament, should the Pan-Germanists have entered it ‘to undermine it from within,’ as the current phrase was? Or should they have assailed the institution as such from outside? They entered the parliament and came out defeated, but they had been obliged to enter it, for in order to wage an effective war against such a power from the outside, indomitable courage and a ready spirit of sacrifice were necessary. In such cases the bull must be seized by the horns. Furious attacks may bring the assailant to the ground again and again, but if he has a stout heart he will stand up, even though some bones may be broken, and only after a long and tough struggle will he achieve his triumph.
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New champions are attracted to a cause by the appeal of great sacrifices made for its sake, until that indomitable spirit is finally crowned with success. To achieve this, however, one needs those who come from the broad masses of the people. They alone have the requisite determination and tenacity to fight a sanguinary issue through to the end. The Pan-German movement did not have these broad masses as its champions and so the only course left opens to it was to enter parliament. It would be a mistake to think that this decision resulted from a long series of internal hesitations of a moral kind, or that it was the outcome of careful calculation. They did not even consider any other solution. Those who participated in this blunder were actuated by general considerations and vague notions as to what would be the significance and effect of taking part in that institution which they had condemned on principle. In general they hoped that they would thus have the means of expounding their cause to the broad masses of the people, because they would be able to speak in ‘the forum of the whole nation.’ It also seemed reasonable to believe that by attacking the evil at the root they would achieve more than by attacking from outside. They believed that, if protected by the immunity of parliament, the position of the individual protagonists would be strengthened and that thus the force of their attacks would be enhanced. In reality everything turned out otherwise. The forum in which the Pan-German representatives spoke had not grown greater, but had actually become smaller, for each spoke only to the circle that was ready to listen to him or could read the report of his speech in the newspapers. The largest forum of immediate listeners is not the parliamentary auditorium; it is the large public meeting, for here alone will there be thousands of men who have come simply to hear what a speaker has to say, whereas at the parliamentary sitting; only a few hundred are present, and for the most part these are there only to earn their daily allowance for attendance and not to be enlightened by the wisdom of one or other of the ‘representatives of the people.’
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The most important consideration is that the same public is always present and that this public does not wish to learn anything new, because, setting aside the question of its intelligence, it lacks even that modest quantum of will-power which is necessary for the effort of learning. Not one of the representatives of the people will pay homage to a superior truth and devote himself to its service. Not one of these gentry will act thus, unless he has grounds for hoping that by such a voile-face he may be able to retain the representation of his constituency in the coming election. Therefore, only when it becomes quite clear that the old party is likely to have a bad time of it at the forthcoming elections—only then will those models of manly virtue set out in search of a new party or a new policy which may have better electoral prospects, but of course this change of front will be accompanied by a veritable deluge of high moral motives to justify it, and thus it always happens that when an existing party has incurred such general disfavour among the public that it is threatened with the probability of a crushing defeat, a great migration commences. The parliamentary rats leave the party ship. All this happens not because the individuals in the case have become better informed on the questions at issue and have resolved to act accordingly; these changes of front are evidence only of that gift of clairvoyance which warns the parliamentary flea at the right moment and enables him to hop into another warm party bed. To speak in such a forum is to cast pearls before certain animals. Verily, it does not repay the pains taken, for the result must always be negative. That is what happened in this case. The Pan-German representatives might have talked themselves hoarse, but to no effect. The press either ignored them totally or so mutilated their speeches that the logical argument was destroyed or the meaning twisted round in such a way that the public got only a very wrong impression regarding the aims of the new movement. What the individual members said was not of importance, what was important was what people read as coming from them. This consisted of mere extracts which had been torn out of the context of the speeches and gave an impression of incoherent nonsense, which was exactly what was intended. Thus the only public to which they really spoke consisted merely of five hundred parliamentarians and that is saying a great deal.
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The worst aspect of the case was that the Pan-German movement could hope for success only if the leaders realised from the very first moment that here it must be less a question of a new party than of a new Weltanschauung. This alone could arouse the inner moral forces that were necessary for such a gigantic struggle, and in this struggle the leaders must be men of first-class brains and indomitable courage. If the struggle on behalf of a Weltanschauung is not conducted by men of heroic spirit who are ready to sacrifice everything, within a short while it will become impossible to find real fighting followers who are ready to lay down their lives for the cause. A man who fights only for his own existence has not much interest left for the service of the community. In order to secure the conditions that are necessary for success, everybody concerned must be made to understand that the new movement looks to the future for its honour and glory, but that it has no contemporary reward to offer its members. If a movement should offer a large number of positions and offices that are easily accessible, the number of unworthy candidates admitted to membership will be constantly on the increase, and eventually a day will come when there will be such a preponderance of political profiteers among the membership of a successful party that the combatants who bore the brunt of the battle in the earlier stages of the movement can now scarcely recognise their own party and may be thrown overboard by the later arrivals as unwanted ballast. Then the movement will no longer have a mission to fulfil. Once the Pan-German party decided to collaborate with parliament they were no longer leaders and combatants in a popular movement, but merely parliamentarians. Thus the movement sank to the common political party level of the day and had no longer the strength to face a hostile fate and run the risk of martyrdom. Instead of fighting, the Pan-German leaders fell into the habit of talking and negotiating The new parliamentarians soon found that it was a more satisfactory, because less risky, way of fulfilling their task, if they were to defend the new Weltanschauung with the ‘intellectual’ weapon of parliamentary rhetoric rather than risk their lives in a struggle, the outcome of which was uncertain and could, at best, offer no prospect of personal gain for themselves.
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When they had taken their seats in parliament their adherents outside hoped and waited for miracles to happen. Naturally, no such miracles happened or could happen. Thereupon the adherents of the movement soon grew impatient, because the reports they read about their own representatives did not in the least come up to what had been expected when they voted for these same representatives at the elections. The reason for this was not far to seek. It was due to the fact that an unfriendly press refrained from giving a true account of what the Pan-German representatives of the people were actually doing. As the new deputies got to like this mild form of ‘revolutionary’struggle in parliament and in the provincial diets, they gradually became reluctant to resume the more, hazardous work of expounding the principles of the movement to the broad masses of the people. Mass meetings in public became more and more rare, though this is the only means of exercising a really effective influence on the people, because here the influence comes from direct personal contact and only in this way can the support of large sections of the people be obtained. When the tables on which the speakers used to stand in the great beer-halls, addressing an assembly of thousands, were deserted for the parliamentary tribune, and the speeches were no longer addressed to the people directly, but to the so-called ‘chosen’ representatives, the Pan-German movement lost its popular character and in a little while degenerated to the level of a more or less serious club where problems of the day were discussed academically. The wrong impression created by the press was no longer corrected by personal contact with the people at public meetings, where the individual representatives might have given a true account of their activities. The final result of this neglect was that the word ‘Pan-German’ came to have an unpleasant sound in the ears of the masses. The knights of the pen and the literary snobs of to-day ought to realise that the great reformations which have taken place in this world were never conducted by a goosequill.
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The task of the pen must always be that of presenting the theoretical concepts which motivate such changes. The force which has always set in motion the great historical avalanches of religious and political movements is the magic power of the spoken word. The broad masses of a population are more susceptible to the appeal of rhetoric than to any other force. All great movements are popular movements. They are the volcanic eruptions of human passions and emotions, stirred into activity by the ruthless goddess of Adversity or by the torch of the spoken word cast into the midst of the people. In no case have great movements been set afoot by the syrupy effusions of aesthetic litterateurs and drawing-room heroes. The doom of a nation can be averted only by a storm of glowing passion; but only those who are passionate themselves can arouse passion in others. It is only through the capacity for passionate feeling that chosen leaders can wield the power of the word which, like blows from a hammer, will open the door to the hearts of the people. He who is not capable of passionate feeling and speech was never chosen by Providence to be the herald of its will. Therefore, a writer should stick to his ink-bottle and busy himself with theoretical questions, if he has the requisite ability and knowledge. He was not born or chosen to be a leader. A movement which has great aims to achieve must carefully guard again, the danger of losing contact with the masses of the people. Every problem encountered must be examined from this point of view first of all and the decision taken must always be in harmony with this principle. The movement must avoid everything which might lessen or weaken its power of influencing the masses, not from demagogical motives, but because of the simple fact that no great ideal, no matter how sublime and exalted it may be, can be realised without the formidable strength of the great bulk of the people. Stern reality alone must mark the way to the goal.
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Only too often in this world, to be unwilling to walk the road of hardship means the total renunciation of our aims and purposes, whether that renunciation be consciously willed or not. The moment the Pan-German leaders, by virtue of their acceptance of the parliamentary principle, moved the centre of their activities away from the people and into parliament, they sacrificed the future for the sake of a cheap momentary success. They chose the easier way in the struggle and in doing so rendered themselves unworthy of the final victory. While in Vienna I used to ponder seriously over these questions and I saw that the main reason for the collapse of the Pan-German movement lay in the fact that these very questions were not rightly appreciated. To my mind the movement seemed at that time chosen to take over the leadership of the German element in Austria. The first two blunders which led to the downfall of the Pan-German movement were very closely connected with one another. Failure to recognise the inner dynamic forces which bring about great changes led to an inadequate appreciation of the part which the broad masses play in bringing about such changes. The result was that too little attention was given to the social problem and that the attempts made by the movement to capture the minds of the lower classes were too few and too weak. If there had been a proper appreciation of the tremendous power of resistance always shown by the masses in revolutionary movements, a different attitude towards the social problem would have been taken; and also a different policy in the matter of propaganda. Then the centre of gravity of the movement would not have been transferred to the parliament, but would have remained in the workshops and in the streets. There was a third mistake, which also had its roots in the failure to understand the significance of the broad masses. The masses are first set in motion, in a definite direction, by men of superior talents; but then these masses, once in motion, are like a flywheel inasmuch as they sustain the momentum and steady balance of the offensive. The policy of the Pan-German leaders in deciding to carry through a difficult fight against the Catholic Church can be explained only by attributing it to an inadequate understanding of the spiritual character of the people.
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The reasons why the new party engaged in a violent campaign against Rome were as follows: As soon as the House of Habsburg had definitely decided to transform Austria into a Slav state, all sorts of measures were adopted which seemed suitable for that purpose. The Habsburg rulers had no scruples of conscience about exploiting even religious institutions in the service of this new ‘State idea.’ One of the many methods employed was the use of Czech parishes and their clergy as instruments in the Slavisation of Austria, which was carried out in the following way. Parish priests of Czech nationality were appointed to purely German districts. Gradually and steadily pushing the interests of the Czech people before those of the Church, the parish priests became generative cells in the process of de-Germanisation. Unfortunately, the German-Austrian clergy completely failed to counter this Procedure. Not only were they incapable of taking a similar initiative on the German side, but they showed themselves unable to meet the Czech offensive with adequate resistance. The German element was accordingly pushed backwards, slowly but steadily, through the perversion of religious belief for political ends, on the one side, and the lack of proper resistance on the other. Such were the tactics used in dealing with the minor problems, but those used in dealing with the major problems were not very different. The anti-German aims pursued by the Habsburgs, especially through the instrumentality of the higher clergy, did not meet with any vigorous resistance, while the clerical representatives of the German interests withdrew completely to the rear. The general impression created could not be other than that the Catholic clergy as such were grossly neglecting the rights of the German population. Therefore, it looked as if the Catholic Church was not in sympathy with the German people, but that it unjustly supported their adversaries. The root of the whole evil, especially in Schönerer’s opinion, lay in the fact that the centre of authority of the Catholic Church was not in Germany and that this fact alone was sufficient reason for the hostile attitude of the Church towards the demands of our people.
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The so-called cultural problem receded almost completely into the background, as was generally the case throughout Austria at that time. In assuming a hostile attitude towards the Catholic Church, the Pan-German leaders were influenced not so much by the Church’s attitude regarding questions of science, etc., but principally by the fact that the Church did not defend German rights, as it should have done, but always supported those who encroached on these rights, especially the Slavs. Georg Schönerer was not a man who did things by halves. He went into battle against the Church because he was convinced that this was the only way in which the German people could be saved. The Los-von-Rom (“Away from Rome”) movement seemed the most formidable, but at the same time most difficult, method of attacking and destroying the adversary’s citadel. Schönerer believed that if this movement could be carried out successfully the unfortunate division between the two great religious denominations in Germany would be wiped out and that the inner forces of the German Reich and the German nation would be enormously enhanced by such a victory. But in this case the premises as well as the conclusions were erroneous. It was undoubtedly true that the national powers of resistance, in everything concerning Germanism as such, were much weaker among the German Catholic clergy, than among their non-German colleagues, especially the Czechs, and only an ignorant person could be unaware of the fact that it scarcely ever entered the minds of the German clergy to take the offensive on behalf of German interests. At the same time, everybody who is not blind to facts must admit that all this should be attributed to a characteristic under which we Germans are all doomed to suffer. This characteristic shows itself in our objective attitude towards our own nationality, as towards other things. While the Czech priest adopted a subjective attitude towards his own people and only an objective attitude towards the Church, the German parish priest showed a subjective devotion to his Church and remained objective in regard to his nation. It is a phenomenon which, unfortunately for us, can be observed occurring in exactly the same way in thousands of other spheres.
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It is by no means the peculiar heritage of Catholicism, but it is something in us which does not take long to undermine almost every institution, especially institutions of the State and those which have ideal aims. Take, for example, the attitude of our civil service in regard to the efforts made to bring about a national resurgence and compare that attitude with the stand which the civil service in any other country would have taken in such a case. Or, can anyone believe that the military officers in any other country in the world would place the ‘authority of the State’ before the vital needs of the nation, as they have done as a matter of course in our country for the past five years and have even deemed theirs a meritorious attitude? Or, let us take another example. In regard to the Jewish Problem, do not the two Christian denominations take up a standpoint to-day which does not correspond to the national exigencies or even the interests of religion? Consider the attitude of a Jewish Rabbi towards any question, even one of minor importance, concerning the Jews as a race, and compare his attitude with that of the majority of our clergy, whether Catholic or Protestant. We observe the same phenomenon wherever it is a matter of standing up for some abstract idea. ‘The authority of the State,’ ‘democracy,’ ‘pacifism,’ ‘international solidarity,’ etc., all such notions become rigid, dogmatic conceptions with us, so that the general vital needs of the nation are judged purely in the light of these conceptions. This unfortunate habit of looking at all national demands from the point of view of a pre-conceived notion makes it impossible for us to see the subjective side of a thing which objectively contradicts our own doctrine. It finally leads to a complete reversal of the relation of means and end. Any attempt at a national revival will be opposed, if the preliminary condition of such a revival be that a bad and pernicious regime must first of all be overthrown, because such an action will be considered as a violation of the ‘authority of the State.’ In the eyes of those who take that standpoint, the ‘authority of the State’ is not a means which is there to serve an end, but rather, to the mind of the dogmatic believer in objectivity, an end in itself, which suffices as the whole purpose of his own miserable existence.
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Such people would raise an outcry if, for instance, anyone should attempt to set up a dictatorship, even though the dictator in question were a Frederick the Great and the politicians for the time being, who constituted the parliamentary majority, were petty and incompetent men, because to such sticklers for abstract principles, the law of democracy is more sacred than the welfare of the nation. In accordance with his principles, one of these gentry will defend the worst kind of tyranny, though it may be leading a people to ruin, because it is the fleeting embodiment of the ‘authority of the State’ and another will reject even a highly beneficial government if it should happen not to be in accord with his notion of ‘democracy.’ In the same way, our German pacifist will remain silent while the nation is groaning under an, oppression which is being exercised by a blood-thirsty military power, if this state of affairs can be altered only through active resistance and the employment of physical force, which is contrary to the spirit of the pacifist associations. The German international Socialist may be robbed and plundered by his comrades in all the other countries of the world, in the name of ‘solidarity,’ but he responds with fraternal kindness and never thinks of trying to get his own back, or even of defending himself. And why? Because he is a German. It may be unpleasant to dwell on such truths, but if something is to be clone we must start by diagnosing the disease. The phenomenon which I have just described also accounts for the feeble manner in which German interests are promoted and defended by a section of the clergy. Such conduct is not the manifestation of a malicious intent, nor is it the outcome of orders given from ‘above,’ as we say, but such a lack of national grit and determination is due to defects in our educational system, on the one hand, which fails to imbue our youth with a sense of pride in their German nationality, and, on the other, to our subjection to the ideal which has become our idol. The education which makes men the devotees of such abstract notions as ‘democracy,’ ‘international Socialism,’ ‘pacifism,’ etc., is so hard-and-fast and exclusive and, operating as it does from within outwards, so purely subjective, that in forming their general picture of outside life as a whole, they are fundamentally influenced by these a priori notions.
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On the other hand, their attitude towards their own German nationality has been very objective from youth upwards. The pacifist—if he is a German —who surrenders himself subjectively, body and soul, to the dictates of his dogmatic principles, will always first consider the objective right or wrong of a situation when danger, no matter how grave and unmerited, threatens his own people and he will never take his stand in the ranks of his own people and fight for and with them from the sheer instinct of self-preservation. Another example may further illustrate how far this applies to the different religious denominations. Insofar as its origin and tradition are based on German ideals, Protestantism defends these ideals better, but it fails the moment it is called upon to defend national interests which belong to a sphere outside its ideals and traditional development, or which, for some reason or other, are rejected by it. Protestantism, therefore, will always take its part in promoting German ideals as far as concerns moral integrity or national education, when the essential German character, the German language or German freedom are to be defended, because these represent the principles on which Protestantism itself is grounded. But this same Protestantism violently opposes every attempt to rescue the nation from the clutches of its mortal enemy, because the Protestant attitude towards the Jews is more or less rigidly and dogmatically fixed. And yet this is the first problem which has to be solved, unless all attempts to bring about a German renascence are doomed to turn out ridiculous and impossible. During my sojourn in Vienna I had ample leisure and opportunity to study this problem without allowing, any prejudices to intervene, and in my daily intercourse with people I was able to test in a thousand ways the correctness of the opinion I had formed. Here, at the meeting-place of many nationalities, it was obvious that it was always the German pacifist who tried to consider the interests of his own nation objectively, but you would never find a Jew who adopted a similar attitude towards his own race. Furthermore, I found that only the German Socialist is ‘international’ in the sense that he feels himself obliged not to demand justice for his own people in any other manner than by whining and wailing to his international comrades.
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Nobody could ever reproach Czechs or Poles or other nations with such conduct. In short, even at that time, I recognised that this evil is only partly the result of the doctrines taught by socialism, pacifism, etc., but mainly the result of our totally inadequate system of education, the defects of which are responsible for the lack of devotion to our own nationality. Therefore, the first theoretical argument advanced by the Pan-German leaders, in support of their offensive against Catholicism was quite untenable. The only way to remedy the evil of which I have been speaking is to train the Germans from youth upwards to an absolute recognition of the rights of their own people, instead of poisoning their minds, while they are still children, with the virus of this cursed ‘objectivity,’ even in matters concerning the very preservation of our own existence. The result of this would be that the Catholic in Germany, just as in Ireland, Poland or France, will be a German first and foremost, but this presupposes the establishment of a radical national government. The strongest proof in support of my contention is furnished by what took place when our people were called for the last time before the tribunal of History to defend their own existence, in a life-and-death struggle. As long as there was no lack of leadership in the higher circles, the people fulfilled their duty and obligations to an overwhelming extent. Whether Protestant pastor or Catholic priest, each did his very utmost to help our powers of resistance to hold out, not only in the trenches, but also, and to an even greater degree, at home. During those years, and especially during the first outburst of enthusiasm, there was for both religious camps one undivided and sacred German Reich for whose preservation and future existence they all prayed to Heaven. The Pan-German movement in Austria ought to have asked itself this one question, ‘Is the preservation of the German element in Austria possible, as long as that element remains within the fold of the Catholic Church?’ If so, then the political party should not have meddled in religious and denominational questions, but if not, then a religious reformation should have been started and not a political party movement. Anyone who believes that a religious reformation can be achieved through the agency of a political organisation shows that he has no idea of the development of religious conceptions and doctrines of faith and how these are put into practice by a Church.
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No man can serve two masters, and I hold that the foundation or overthrow of a religion has far more serious consequences than the foundation or overthrow of a State, to say nothing of a party. It is no argument to the contrary to say that the attacks were only defensive measures against attacks from the other side. Undoubtedly, there have always been unscrupulous rogues who did not hesitate to use religion as an instrument in their political dealings, for such, was usually the sole object of such fellows, but on the other hand, it would be wrong to hold religion itself, or a religious denomination, responsible for a number of rascals who exploit the Church for their own base interests just as they would exploit anything else in which they had a part. Nothing could be more to the taste of one of these parliamentary loungers and tricksters than to be able to find a scapegoat at least, after the event, for his political sharp practice. The moment religion or a religious denomination is attacked and made responsible for his personal misdeeds, this shrewd fellow will raise an outcry at once and call the world to witness how justified he was in acting as he did, proclaiming that he and his eloquence alone have saved religion and the Church. The public, which is mostly stupid and has a very short memory, is not capable of recognising the real instigator of the quarrel in the midst of the turmoil that has been raised. Frequently it does not remember the beginning of the fight and so the rogue gains his end. A cunning fellow of that sort is quite well aware that his misdeeds have nothing to do with religion, and so he will laugh up his sleeve all the more heartily when his honest, but artless, adversary loses the game and, one day losing all faith in humanity, retires from public life. But also from another point of view it would be wrong to make religion, or the Church as such, responsible for the misdeeds of individuals. If we compare the magnitude of the organisation, as it is apparent to everyone, with the average weakness of human nature we shall have to admit that the proportion of good to bad is more favourable here than anywhere else.
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Among the priests there may, of course, be some who use their sacred calling to further their political ambitions. There are clergy who, unfortunately, forget that in the political mêlée they ought to be the champions of sublime truth and not the abettors of falsehood and slander, but for each one of these unworthy specimens we can find a thousand or more, who fulfil their mission nobly as the trustworthy guardians of souls and who tower above the level of our corrupt epoch, as little islands above the universal swamp. I cannot, and do not, condemn the Church as such if some depraved person in the robe of a priest commits some offence against the moral code; nor should I for a moment think of blaming the Church if one of its innumerable members betrays and besmirches his compatriots, especially in an epoch when such conduct is quite common. We must not forget, particularly in our day, that for one such Ephialtes there are a thousand whose hearts bleed in sympathy with their people during these, our year; of misfortune and who, together with the best of our nation, yearn for the hour when Fortune will smile on us again. If it be objected that here we are concerned not with the petty problems of everyday life, but principally with fundamental truths and questions of dogma, the only way of answering that objection is to ask the question, ‘Do you feel that Providence least called you to proclaim the Truth to the world?’ If so, then go and do it, but you ought to have the courage to do it directly and not use some political party as your mouthpiece, for this, too, would be false. In the place of something that now exists and is bad, put something else that is better and will last into the future. If you lack the requisite courage, or if you yourself do not know clearly what your better self ought to be, leave the whole thing alone but, whatever happens, do not try to reach the goal by the roundabout way of a political party if you are not brave enough to fight with your visor lifted. Political parties have no right to meddle in religious questions except when these relate to something that is alien to the nation and thus calculated to undermine racial customs and morals. In the same way, religion must not be mixed up with party politics. If some ecclesiastical dignitaries should misuse religious institutions or religious teachings to injure their own ration, their opponents ought never to take the same road and fight them with the same weapons.
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To a political leader, the religious teachings and institutions of his people should be sacred and inviolable; otherwise, he should not be a statesman, but a reformer, if he has the necessary qualities for such a mission. Any other line of conduct will lead to disaster, especially in Germany. In studying the Pan-German movement and its conflict with Rome I was firmly persuaded, then and especially in later years, that by their failure to understand the importance of the social problem, the Pan-Germanists lost the support of the broad masses, who are the indispensable combatants in such a movement. By entering parliament the Pan-German leaders deprived themselves of their clan, and at the same time burdened themselves with all the defects of the parliamentary institution. Their struggle against the Catholic Church made their position impossible in numerous circles among the lower and middle classes, while at the same time it robbed them of innumerable high-class elements some of the best indeed that the nation possessed. The practical outcome of the Austrian Kulturkamp was negative. Although they succeeded in wresting one hundred thousand members from the Church, that did not do much harm to the latter. The Church did not need to shed tears over these lost sheep, for it lost only those who had for a long time ceased to belong to it in their inner hearts. The difference between this new reformation and the great Reformation was that, at that time, some of the best members left the Church because of religious convictions, whereas in this new reformation only those left who had been indifferent before and who were now influenced by political considerations. From the political point of view alone, the result was a ridiculous as it was deplorable. Once again a political movement which had promised so much for the German nation collapsed, because it was not conducted in a spirit of unflinching adherence to naked reality, but lost itself in spheres in which it was bound to be broken up. The Pan-German movement would never have made this mistake if it had properly understood the psyche of the broad masses. If the leaders had known that, for psychological reasons alone, it is not expedient to place two or more adversaries before the masses—since that leads to a complete splitting up of their fighting strength—they would have concentrated the full and undivided force of their attack against a single adversary.
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Nothing in the policy of a political party is so fraught with danger as allowing its decisions to be directed by people who want to have their fingers in every pie though they do not know how to cook the simplest dish. Even though there is much that can be said against the various religious denominations, political leaders must not forget that history teaches us that no purely political party in similar circumstances ever succeeded in bringing about a religious reformation. One does not study history for the purpose of forgetting its lessons afterwards, when the time comes to apply them, or of imagining that in this particular case things are different, so that the eternal truths of history are no longer applicable. One learns history in order to be able to apply its lessons to the present time and whoever fails to do this cannot pretend to be a political leader. In reality he is quite a superficial person or, as is mostly the case, a conceited simpleton whose good intentions cannot make up for his incompetence. The art of leadership, as displayed by really great leaders of the people throughout the ages, consists in concentrating the attention of the people against a single adversary and taking care that nothing will divide that attention. The more the militant energies of the people are directed towards one objective, the greater will be its magnetic force and its striking power. The leader of genius must have the ability to make different opponents appear as if they belonged to one category, for weak and wavering natures among a leader’s following may easily begin to be dubious about the justice of their own cause if they have to face several enemies. As soon as the vacillating masses find themselves facing an opposition that is made up of different groups of enemies, their sense of objectivity will be aroused and they will ask how it is that all the others can be in the wrong and they themselves, and their movement, alone in the right. Such a feeling would be the first step towards a paralysis of their fighting vigour.
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Where there are various enemies who are split up into divergent groups it will be necessary to block them together as forming one solid front, so that the bulk of the followers in a popular movement may see only one common enemy against whom they have to fight. Such uniformity intensifies their belief in the justice of their own cause and strengthens their feeling of hostility towards the opponent. The Pan-German movement was unsuccessful because the leaders did not grasp the significance of that truth. They saw the goal clearly and their intentions were right, but they took the wrong road. Their action may be compared to that of an Alpine climber who never loses sight of the peak he wants to reach, who has set out with the greatest determination and energy, but pays no attention to the road beneath his feet. With his eye always fixed firmly on the goal, he does not examine or notice the nature of the ascent, and finally he fails. The manner in which the great rival of the Pan-German party set out to attain its goal was quite different. The way it took was well and shrewdly chosen, but it did not have a clear vision of the goal. On almost all points where the Pan-German movement failed, the policy, of the Christian Socialist party was correct and systematic. They assessed the importance of the broad masses correctly and gained their support by emphasising the social character of the movement from the very start. By directing their appeal especially to the lower middle class and the artisans, they gained adherents who were faithful, persevering and self-sacrificing. The Christian-Socialist leaders took care to avoid all controversy with religious institutions and thus they secured the support of that mighty organisation, the Catholic Church. The leaders recognised the value of propaganda on a large scale and they were veritable virtuosos in working up the spiritual instincts of the broad masses of their adherents. The failure of this party to carry into effect the dream of saving Austria from dissolution, must be attributed to two main defects in the means they employed, and also to the lack of a clear perception of the ends they wished to reach. The anti-Semitism of the Christian-Socialists was based on religious, instead of racial, principles. The reason for this mistake also gave rise to the second error.
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The founders of the Christian-Socialist party were of the opinion that they could not base their attitude on the racial principle if they wished to save Austria, because they felt that a general disintegration of the State might quickly result from the adoption of such a policy. In the opinion of the party chiefs, the situation in Vienna demanded that all factors which tender to estrange the nationalities from one another should be carefully avoided and that all factors making for unity should be emphasised. At that time Vienna was so honeycombed with foreign elements, especially Czech, that the greatest amount of tolerance was necessary if these elements were to be enlisted in the ranks of any party that was not anti-German on principle. If Austria was to be saved, those elements were indispensable, and so attempts were made to win the support of the small traders, a great number of whom were Czechs, by combating the liberalism of the Manchester School. The leaders believed that by adopting this attitude they had found a slogan against Jewry which, because of its religious implications, would unite all the different nationalities which made up the population of the old Austria. It was obvious, however, that this kind of anti-Semitism did not trouble the Jews very much. If the worst came to the worst, a few drops of baptismal water would settle the matter, whereupon the Jew could still carry on his business safely and at the same time retain his Jewish entity. On such superficial grounds it was impossible to deal with the whole problem in an earnest and rational way. The consequence was that many people could not understand this kind of anti-Semitism and therefore refused to take part in it. The attractive force of the idea was thus restricted exclusively to narrow-minded circles, because the leaders failed to go beyond the mere emotional appeal and did not ground their position on a truly rational basis. The intellectuals were opposed to such a policy on principle. It looked more and more as if the whole movement were a new attempt to proselytize the Jews or, on the other hand, as if it were merely organised from a wish to compete with other contemporary movements.
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Thus the struggle lost all traces of having been organised for a spiritual and sublime mission. Indeed, it seemed to some people—and these were by no means worthless elements—to be immoral and reprehensible. The movement failed to awaken a belief that here there was a problem of vital importance for the whole of humanity, on the solution of which the destiny of the whole non-Jewish world depended. Through this shilly-shallying way of dealing with the problem, the anti-Semitism of the Christian-Socialists turned out to be quite ineffective. It was anti-Semitic only in outward appearance which was worse than if it had made no pretence at all to anti-Semitism, for the pretence gave rise to a false sense of security among people who believed that the enemy had been brought to bay, but, as a matter of fact, these people themselves were being led by the nose. The Jew readily adjusted himself to this form of anti-Semitism and found its continuance more profitable to him than its abolition would have been. This whole attitude led to great sacrifices being made for the sake of that State which was composed of many heterogeneous nationalities, but much greater sacrifices had to be made by the representatives of the German element. It was impossible to adopt a ‘nationalist’ attitude for fear of losing the foothold gained in Vienna itself. It was hoped that the Habsburg State might be saved by a silent evasion of the nationalist question, but it was this very policy that brought that State to ruin. The same policy also led to the collapse of Christian Socialism, for thus the movement was deprived of the only source of energy from which a political party can draw the inner driving force it needs. During those years I carefully followed the two movements and observed how they developed, one because my heart was with it, and d the other, because of my admiration for that remarkable man who then appeared to me bitterly symbolic of the whole German population in Austria. When the imposing funeral cortège of the dead Burgomaster wound its way from the City Hall towards the Ring Strasse, I stood among the hundreds of thousands who watched the solemn procession pass by.
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As I stood there I felt deeply moved, and my instinct told me that the work of this man had been all in vain, because a sinister Fate was inexorably leading this State to its downfall. If Dr. Karl Lueger had lived in Germany he would have been ranked among the great leaders of our people. It was a misfortune for himself and for his work that he had to live in this impossible State. When he died, the fire had already been kindled in the Balkans and was spreading month by month. Fate had been merciful in sparing him the sight of what, even to the last, he had hoped to prevent. I endeavoured to analyse the cause which rendered one of these movements futile and wrecked the progress of the other. The result of this investigation was the profound conviction that, apart from the inherent impossibility of consolidating the position of the State in the old Austria, the two parties made the following fatal mistake. The Pan-German party was perfectly right in its fundamental ideas regarding the aim of the movement, which was to bring about a German renascence, but it was unfortunate in its choice of means. It was nationalist, but unfortunately it paid too little heed to the social problem, and thus it failed to gain the support of the masses. Its anti-Jewish policy, however, was grounded on a correct perception of the significance of the racial problem and not on religious principles, but it was a mistake, and wrong from a tactical point of view to make war on one religious denomination. The Christian-Socialist movement had only a vague conception of a German revival as part of its object, but it was intelligent and fortunate in the choice of means to carry out its policy as a party. The Christian-Socialists grasped the significance of the social question, but they adopted the wrong principles in their struggle against Jewry, and they utterly failed to appreciate the power of the national idea.
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Had the Christian-Socialist party, apart from its shrewd estimate of the value of the broad masses, also gauged correctly the importance of the racial problem (which was properly grasped by the Pan-German movement) and had this party been really nationalist, or if the Pan-German leaders, on the other hand, in addition to their correct handling of the Jewish problem and of the national idea, had adopted the practical standpoint of the Christian-Socialist Party, and particularly their attitude towards Socialism—then a movement would have developed which, in my opinion, might even at that time have successfully altered the course of German history. If things did not turn out thus, the fault lay for the most part in the character of the Austrian State. I did not find my own convictions upheld by any party then in existence, and so I could not bring myself to enlist as a member in any of the existing organisations or even lend a hand in their struggle. Even at that time all those organisations seemed to me to be already jaded in their energies and were therefore incapable of bringing about a really profound and not merely superficial national revival of the German people. My inner aversion to the Habsburg State was daily increasing. The more I paid special attention to questions of foreign policy, the more the conviction grew upon me that this phantom State would surely bring misfortune on the Germans. I realised more and more that the destiny of the German nation could not be decisively influenced from here, but only from within the German Reich itself. This was true not only in regard to general political questions, but also —and in no less a degree—in regard to the whole sphere of cultural life. Here, also, in all matters affecting national culture and art, the Austrian State showed all the signs of senile decrepitude, or at least it was ceasing to be of any consequence to the German nation, as far as these matters were concerned. This was especially true of its architecture. Modern architecture could not produce any great results in Austria, because, since the building of the Ring Strasse, architectural activity, in Vienna it least, had become insignificant when compared with the progressive schemes which were being planned in Germany. I came more and more to lead what may be called a two-fold existence. Reason and reality forced me to continue to endure my harsh, but beneficial, experience in Austria, but my heart was elsewhere.
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A feeling of discontent grew upon me and made one depressed the more I came to realise the inside hollowness of this State and the impossibility of saving it from collapse. At the same time I felt perfectly certain that it would bring all kinds of misfortune on the German people. I was convinced that the Habsburg State would baulk and hinder every German who might show signs of real greatness, while at the same time it would aid and abet every non-German activity. This conglomerate spectacle of heterogeneous races which the capital of the Dial Monarchy presented, this motley of Czechs, Poles, Hungarians, Ruthenians, Serbs and Croats, etc., and always that bacillus which is the solvent of human society, the Jew, here and there and everywhere—the whole spectacle was repugnant to me. The gigantic city seemed to be the incarnation of racial adulteration. The German language, which I had spoken from the time of my boyhood, was the vernacular of Lower Bavaria. I never forgot that particular style of speech, and I could never learn the Viennese dialect. The longer I lived in that city, the stronger became my hatred of the promiscuous swarm of foreign peoples which had begun to batten on that old nursery-ground of German culture. The idea that this State could maintain its further existence for any considerable time was quite absurd. Austria was then like an ancient mosaic in which the cohesive cement had dried up and become old and friable. As long as such a work of art remains untouched it may hold together and continue to exist, but the moment a blow falls on it, it breaks up into thousands of fragments. It was, therefore, now only a question of when the blow would come. Because my heart was always with the German Reich and not with the Austrian Monarchy, the hour of Austria’s dissolution as a State appeared to me only as the first step towards the emancipation of the German nation. All these considerations intensified, my yearning to depart for that country for which my heart had been secretly longing since the days of my youth. I hoped that one day I might be able to make my mark as an, architect and that I could devote my talents to the service of my country on a large, or on a small scale, according to the will of Fate.
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A final reason was that I longed to be among those who lived and worked in that land from which the movement should be launched, the object of which would be the fulfilment of what my heart had always longed for, namely, the union of the country in which I was born with our common Fatherland, the German Reich. There are many who may not understand how such a yearning can be so strong, but I appeal especially to two groups of people. The first includes all those who are denied the happiness I have spoken of, and the second embraces those who once enjoyed that happiness, but have had it torn from them by a harsh fate. I turn to all those who have been torn from their mother-country and who have to struggle for the preservation of their most sacred patrimony, their native language, who are persecuted and, because of their loyalty and love for the homeland, yearn sadly for the hour when they will be allowed to return to the bosom of their mother country. To these I address my words, and I know that they will understand. Only he who has himself experienced what it means to be a German and yet to be denied the right of belonging to his Fatherland, can appreciate the profound nostalgia which that enforced exile causes. It is a perpetual heartache, and there is no place for joy and contentment until the doors of the home of his fathers are thrown open and all those in whose veins kindred blood is flowing will find peace and rest within their common Reich. Vienna was a hard school for me, but it taught me the most profound lessons of my life. I was scarcely more than a boy when I went to live there, and when I left, I had grown to be a man of a grave and pensive nature. In Vienna I acquired the foundation of a general Weltanschauung and developed a faculty for analysing political questions in detail. That Weltanschauung and the political ideas then formed have never been abandoned, though they were expanded later on. It is only now that I can fully appreciate how valuable those years were to me. I have given a detailed account of this period because in Vienna stark reality taught me the truths that now form the fundamental principles of the Party which, within the course of five years, has grown from modest beginnings to be a great mass movement.
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I do not know what my attitude towards Jewry, Social Democracy, or rather Marxism, in general, to the social problem, etc., would be to-day if I had not acquired a stock of personal beliefs at such an early age, by dint of hard study and under the duress of Fate. For, although the misfortunes of the Fatherland may have stimulated thousands to ponder over the inner causes of the collapse, that could not lead to such a thorough knowledge and deep insight as a man develops who has fought a hard struggle; for many years in order that he might be master of his own fate.
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At last I went to Munich, in the Spring of 1912. The city itself was as familiar to me as if I had lived for years within its walls. This was because my studies in architecture had been constantly turning my attention to the metropolis of German art. One must know Munich if one would know Germany, and it is impossible to acquire a knowledge of German art without seeing Munich. All things considered, this pre-war sojourn was by far the happiest and most contented time of my life. My earnings were very slender, but after all, I did not live for the sake of painting. I painted in order to get the bare necessities of existence while I continued my studies. I was firmly convinced that I should finally succeed in reaching the goal I had marked out for myself, and this conviction alone was strong enough to enable me to bear the petty hardships of everyday life without worrying very much about them. Moreover, almost from the very first moment of my sojourn there, I came to love that city more than any other place known to me. ‘A German city,’ I said to myself. ‘How different from Vienna!’ It was with a feeling of disgust that my imagination reverted to that conglomeration of races. Another pleasant feature here was the way the people spoke German, which was much nearer my own way of speaking than the Viennese idiom. The Munich idiom recalled the days of my youth, especially when I spoke with those who had come to Munich from Lower Bavaria. There were a thousand or more things which I loved, instinctively, or which I came to love during the course of my stay, but what attracted me most was the marvellous accord of native folk-energy with the fine artistic spirit of the city, that unique harmony between the Hofbräuhaus and the Odeon, the October Festival and the Pinakothek, etc. The reason why my heart’s strings are entwined around this city as around no other spot in this world is probably because Munich is, and will remain, inseparably connected with the development of my own career;
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and the fact that, from the beginning of my stay, I felt inwardly happy and contented is to be attributed to the charm which the marvellous capital of the House of Wittelsbach has for anyone who, apart from a gift of cool calculation, is blessed with a feeling for beauty. Apart from my professional work, I was most interested in the study of current political events, particularly those which were connected with foreign policy. I approached these by way of the German policy of alliances which, ever since my Austrian days, I had considered to be an utterly mistaken one, but in Vienna I had not yet seen quite clearly how far the German Reich had progressed in self-delusion. In Vienna I was inclined to assume, or probably I persuaded myself to do so in order to excuse the German mistake, that possibly the authorities in Berlin knew how weak and unreliable their ally would prove to be when brought face to face with realities, but that, for more or less mysterious reasons, they refrained from allowing their opinion on this point to be made public. Their idea was that they should support the policy of alliances which Bismarck had initiated, the sudden discontinuance of which might be undesirable, if for no other reason than that it might arouse those foreign countries which were lying in wait for their chance, or might alarm the Philistines at home. My contact with the people soon taught me, to my horror, that my assumptions were wrong. I was amazed to find everywhere, even in circles otherwise well informed, that nobody had the slightest intimation of the real character of the Habsburg Monarchy. Among the common people in particular, there was a prevalent illusion that the Austrian ally was a power which would have to be seriously reckoned with and would ‘do its bit’ in the hour of need. The bulk of the people continued to look upon the Dual Monarchy as a ‘German’ State and believed that it, could be relied upon. They assumed that its strength could be measured by the millions of its subjects, as was the case in Germany. First of all, they did not realise that Austria had ceased to be a German State and, secondly, that the conditions prevailing within the Austrian Empire were steadily pushing it headlong to the brink of disaster.
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At that time I knew the condition of affairs in the Austrian State better than the professional diplomats. Blindfolded, as nearly always, these diplomats stumbled along on their way to disaster. The opinions prevailing among the people reflected only what had been drummed into them from above, and these higher authorities grovelled before the ‘ally,’ as the people of old bowed down before the Golden Calf. They probably thought that by being polite and amiable they might balance the lack of honesty on the other side, and at the same time, they took every declaration at its full face value. Even while in Vienna, I used to be annoyed again and again by the discrepancy between the speeches of the official statesmen and the contents of the Viennese press, and yet Vienna was still a German city, at least as far as appearances went. But one encountered an utterly different state of things on leaving Vienna, or rather German-Austria, and coming into the Slav provinces. It was only necessary to glance at the Prague newspapers in order to see how the whole exalted hocus-pocus of the Triple Alliance was judged there. In Prague they had nothing but gibes and sneers for that masterpiece of statesmanship. Even in the piping times of peace, when the two emperors kissed each other on the brow in token of friendship, these papers did not disguise their belief that the alliance would be liquidated the moment the first attempt was made to bring it down from the shimmering heights of a Nibelungen ideal to the plane of stem reality. Great indignation was aroused a few years later, when the alliances were put to the first practical test. Italy not only withdrew from the Triple Alliance, leaving the other two members to go their own way, but she even joined their enemies. That anybody should believe even for a moment in the possibility of such a miracle as that of Italy fighting on the same side as Austria, would be simply incredible to any man who did not suffer from the blindness of official diplomacy. In Austria only the Habsburgs and the German-Austrians supported the alliance. The Habsburgs did so from shrewd calculation of their own interests and from necessity.
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The Germans did it out of good faith and political ignorance. They acted in good faith inasmuch as they believed that by establishing the Triple Alliance they were doing a great service to the German Reich and were thus helping to strengthen it and consolidate its defence. They showed their political ignorance, however, in holding such ideas, because, instead of helping the German Reich, they really chained it to a moribund State which might drag its associate into the grave with itself. Above all, by championing this alliance they fell more and more a prey to the Habsburg policy of de-Germanisation, for the alliance gave the Habsburgs good grounds for believing that the German Reich would not interfere in their domestic affairs and thus they were in a position to carry into effect, with more ease and less risk, their domestic policy of gradually eliminating the German element. Not only could the ‘objectivity’ of the German Government be counted upon, and thus there need be no fear of protest from that quarter, but one could always remind the German-Austrians of the alliance and thus silence those who would be sure to object, should the methods employed in the process of Slavisation become too drastic. What could the German-Austrians do, when the people of the German Reich itself had openly proclaimed their trust and confidence in the Habsburg regime? Should they resist and thus be branded openly before their kinsfolk in the Reich as traitors to their own national interests? They, who, for so many decades, had sacrificed so much for the sake of their German tradition! Once the influence of the Germans in Austria had been wiped out, what then would be the value of the alliance? If the Triple Alliance were to be advantageous to Germany, was it not a necessary condition that the predominance of the German element in Austria should be maintained? Or did anyone really believe that Germany could continue to be the ally of a Habsburg Empire under the hegemony of the Slays? The official attitude of German diplomacy, as well as that of the general public, towards internal problems affecting the Austrian nationalities was not merely stupid, it was insane.
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On the alliance, as on a solid foundation, they grounded the security and future existence of a nation of seventy millions, while, at the same time, they allowed their partner to continue his policy of undermining the sole foundation of that alliance, methodically and resolutely, from year to year. A day must come when nothing but a formal contract with Viennese diplomats would be left. The alliance itself, as an effective support, would be lost to Germany. As far as concerned Italy, such had been the case from the outset. If people in Germany had studied history and the psychology of nations a little more carefully, not one of them could have believed for a single hour that the Quirinal and the Viennese Hofburg could ever stand shoulder to shoulder on a common battle-front. Italy would have flared up like a volcano if any Italian government had dared to send a single Italian soldier to fight for the Habsburg State, for so fanatically did the Italians hate that State, that it would have been impossible for them to meet on the field of battle, except as enemies. More than once in Vienna I have witnessed explosions of the contempt and the profound hatred which ‘allied’ the Italians to the Austrian State. The crimes which the House of Habsburg had committed against Italian freedom and independence in the course of several centuries were too grave to be forgiven, even with the best of goodwill, but this goodwill did not exist, either among the rank and file of the population or in the government. Therefore, for Italy there were only two ways of co-existing with Austria alliance or war. By choosing the first, it was possible to prepare leisurely for the second. Especially since relations between Russia and Austria tended more and more towards the arbitration of war, the German policy of alliances was as senseless as it was dangerous. Here was a classic instance which demonstrated the lack of any broad or logical line of thought. What was the reason for forming an alliance at all? It could not have been other than the wish to secure the future of the Reich better than would be possible if it were to depend exclusively on its own resources. But the future of the Reich could not have meant anything else than the problem of securing the means of existence of the German people.
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An answer had, therefore, to be found to the following questions. What form shall the life of the nation assume in the near future that is to say within such a period as we can forecast? And by what means can the necessary foundation and security for this development be guaranteed within the framework of the general distribution of power among the European nations? A clear analysis of the principles on which the foreign policy of German statecraft was to be based should have led to the following conclusions: The annual increase in the population of Germany amounts to almost nine hundred thousand, souls. The difficulties of providing for this army of new citizens must grow from year to year and must finally lead to a catastrophe, unless ways and means are found which will forestall the danger of misery and hunger. There were four ways of providing against this terrible calamity:
(1) It was possible to adopt the French example and artificially restrict the number of births, thus avoiding an excess of population. In certain circumstances, in periods of distress or under bad climatic conditions, or if the soil yields too poor a return, Nature herself tends to check the increase of population in some countries and among some races, but by a method which is quite as ruthless as it is wise. She does not impede the procreative faculty as such; but prevents the further existence of the offspring by submitting it to such tests and privations that all but the strongest and healthiest are forced to retreat into the bosom of the Unknown. Whatever survives these hardships has been tested and tried a thousand-fold, hardened and rendered, fit to continue the process of procreation, so that the same process of selection will begin all over again. By thus, dealing brutally with the individual and recalling him the very moment he shows that he is not fitted for the trials of life, Nature preserves the race and the species and raises it to the highest degree of efficiency. The decrease in numbers therefore implies an increase in strength as far as the individual is concerned, and this eventually means the invigoration of the species.
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The case is different when man himself starts the process of numerical restriction. Man is not made of the same stuff as Nature; he is ‘human.’ He knows better than the ruthless Queen of Wisdom; he does not impede the preservation of the individual but prevents procreation itself. To the individual who always sees only himself and not the race, this line of action seems more humane and just than the opposite way, but unfortunately, the consequences are also the reverse. By leaving the process of procreation unchecked and by submitting the individual to the hardest preparatory tests in life, Nature selects the best from an abundance of single elements and stamps them as fit to live and carry on the conservation of the species. Man restricts the procreative faculty and strives obstinately to keep alive at any cost whatever has once been born. This correction of the Divine Will seems to him to be wise and humane, and he rejoices at having trumped Nature’s card in one game at least and thus proved that she is not entirely reliable. This little ‘masterpiece’ made by the Almighty does not like to be told that, although he has succeeded in limiting numbers, his system leads to degeneration in the quality of the individual, for, as soon as the procreative faculty is thwarted and the number of births diminished, the natural struggle for existence, which allows only healthy and strong individuals to survive; is replaced by a sheer craze to ‘save’ feeble, and even diseased, creatures at any cost. Thus are sown the seeds of a human progeny which will become more and more enfeebled from one generation to another, as long as Nature’s will is scorned. If this policy is carried out, the final result will always be that such a nation will eventually terminate its own existence on this earth; for, though man may defy the eternal laws of procreation for a certain period, vengeance will follow sooner or later. A stronger race will oust that which has grown weak, for the vital urge, in its ultimate form, will burst asunder all the absurd chains of this so-called humane consideration for the individual and will replace it with the humanity of Nature, which wipes out what is weak in order to make room for the strong. Any policy which aims at securing the existence of the German nation by restricting the birth-rate robs it of its future.
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(2) A second solution is that of internal colonisation. This is a proposal which is frequently made in our own-time and one hears it lauded a good deal. It is a suggestion that is well-meant, but it is misunderstood by most people, so that it is the source of more mischief than can be imagined. It is certainly true that the productivity of the soil can be increased to a certain extent, but only within definite limits and not indefinitely. By increasing the productive powers of the soil, it will be possible to balance the effect of a surplus birth-rate in Germany for a certain period of time, without incurring any danger of famine. But we have to face the fact that the general standard of living is rising more quickly than even the birth-rate. Our demands as regards food and clothing are growing from year to year and are out of all proportion to those of our ancestors of, let us say, a hundred years ago. It would, therefore, be a mistake to assume that every increase in the productive powers of the soil will supply the requisite conditions for an increase in the population. That is true up to a certain point only, for at least a portion of the increased produce of the soil will be consumed in supplying the increased demands caused by the steady rise in the standard of living. But even if these demands were to be curtailed to the narrowest limits possible, and if, at the same time, we were to use all our available energies in intensive cultivation, we should here reach a definite limit which is conditioned by the inherent nature of the soil itself. No matter how industriously we may labour we cannot increase agricultural production beyond this limit. Therefore, though we may postpone the evil hour of distress for a certain time, it will arrive at last. The first phenomenon will be the recurrence of famine periods from time to time, after bad harvests, etc. The intervals between these famines will become shorter and shorter, the more the population increases, and finally, the famine times will disappear only in those rare years of plenty when the granaries are full. A time, will ultimately come when, even in those years of plenty, there will not be enough to go round, so that hunger will dog the footsteps of the nation. Nature must now step in once more and select those who are to survive;
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or else man will help himself by artificially preventing his own increase, with all the fatal consequences to the race and the species which have already been mentioned. It may be objected here that, in one form or another, this future is in store for all mankind and that the individual nation or race cannot escape the general fate. At first glance, that objection seems logical enough; but we have to take the following into account. The day will certainly come when the whole of mankind will be forced to check the augmentation of the human species, because there will be no further possibility of adjusting the productivity of the soil to the perpetual increase in the population. Nature must then be allowed to use her own methods, or man may possibly take the task of regulation into his own hands and establish the necessary equilibrium by the application of better means than we have at our disposal to-day. Then, however, it will be a problem for mankind as a whole, whereas now only those races have to suffer from want which no longer have the strength and daring to acquire sufficient land to provide for their needs, for, as things stand to-day, vast spaces still lie uncultivated all over the surface of the globe. Those spaces are only waiting for the ploughshare, and it is certain that Nature did not set those territories apart as the exclusive property of any one nation or race, to be held in reserve for the future. Such land awaits the people who have the strength to acquire it and the diligence to cultivate it. Nature knows no political frontiers. She begins by establishing life on this globe and then watches the free play of forces. Those who show the greatest courage and industry are the children nearest to her heart and they will be granted the sovereign right of existence. If a nation confines itself to ‘internal colonisation’, while other races are perpetually increasing their territorial possessions all over the globe, that nation will be forced to restrict the numerical growth of its population at a time when the other nations are increasing theirs. This situation must eventually arise, and it will arise soon if the territory which the nation has at its disposal be small.
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Now, it is unfortunately true that only too often the best nations—or, to speak more exactly, the only really cultured nations, who at the same time are the chief champions of human progress—have decided, in their blind pacifism, to refrain from the acquisition of new territory and to be content with ‘internal colonisation.’ At the same time nations of inferior quality succeed in getting hold of large areas for colonisation all over the globe. The final outcome of this state of affairs will be that races which are culturally superior, but less ruthless would be forced to restrict their increase, because of insufficient territory to support the population, while less civilised races could increase indefinitely, owing to the vast territories at their disposal. In other words, should this state of affairs continue, then the world will one day be possessed by that portion of mankind which is culturally inferior, but more active and energetic. A time will come, even though in the distant future, when there can be only two alternatives—either the world will be ruled according to our modern concept of democracy, and then every decision will be in favour of the numerically stronger races; or the world will be governed by the law of natural distribution of power, and then those nations will be victorious who are more brutal of will and they will not be the nations who have practised self-denial. Nobody can doubt that this world will one day be the scene of dreadful struggles for existence on the part of mankind. In the end the instinct of self-preservation alone will triumph; before its consuming fire this so-called humanitarianism, which connotes only a mixture of fatuous timidity and self-conceit, will melt away as snow in the March sunshine. Man has become great through perpetual struggle. In perpetual peace his greatness must decline. For us Germans the slogan of ‘internal colonisation’ is fatal, because it encourages the belief that we have discovered a means which is in accordance with our innate pacifism and which will enable us to work for our livelihood by leading a drowsy existence. Such a teaching, once it were taken seriously by our people, would mean the end of all effort to acquire for ourselves that, place in the world which we deserve.
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If the average German were once convinced that by this measure he had been given the chance of ensuring his livelihood and guaranteeing his future, any attempt to take an active, and thus profitable, part in promoting the vital interests of the country would be out of the question. Should the nation agree to such an attitude, then any really useful foreign policy might be looked upon as dead and buried, together with all hope for the future of the German people. Once we know what the consequences of this ‘internal colonisation’ theory would be, we can no longer consider as a mere accident the fact that, among those who inculcate this pernicious theory upon the minds of our people, the Jew is always in the; first rank. He knows his audience too well not to know that they are ready to be the grateful victims of every swindler who promises them a fortune in the shape of a discovery that will enable them to outwit Nature and thus render superfluous the hard and inexorable struggle for existence so that finally they may become lords of the Earth partly by sheer dolce far niente and partly by work, just as it happens. It cannot be too strongly emphasised that any German ‘internal colonisation’ must first of all be considered as suited only for the relief of social grievances, and in particular, for freeing the soil from the grip of the speculator, but that such a system could never suffice to assure the future of the nation, without the acquisition of new territory. If we adopt a different plan we shall soon reach a point beyond which the resources of our soil can no longer be exploited, and at the same time we shall reach a point beyond which our man-power cannot develop. In conclusion, it must be emphasised that the two factors, namely, limitation to a definitely small area as necessitated by internal colonisation, and the restriction of procreation, which leads to the same result, have a very unfavourable effect on the military and political standing of a nation. The extent of the national territory is a determining factor in the external security of the nation. The larger the territory which a people has at its disposal, the stronger are the national defences of that people. Military victories are more quickly, more easily, more completely and more effectively gained against a people occupying a national territory which is restricted in area, than against States which have extensive territories.
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Hence, the magnitude of a nation’s territory is in itself a certain guarantee that an outside Power will not hastily risk the adventure of an invasion, for in that case the struggle would have to be long and exhausting before victory could be hoped for. The risk being so great, there would have to be extraordinary reasons for such an aggressive adventure. Hence it is, that the territorial magnitude of a State furnishes a basis whereon national liberty and independence can be maintained with relative ease; while, on the contrary, a State whose territory is small offers a natural temptation to the invader. As a matter of fact, so-called national circles in the German Reich rejected these first two possibilities of establishing a balance between the constant numerical increase in the population and a national territory which did not expand proportionately. But the reasons given for that rejection were different from those which I have just expounded. It was mainly on the basis of certain moral objections that restriction of the birth-rate was condemned. Proposals for internal colonisation were rejected indignantly because it was suspected that such a policy might mean an attack on the big landowners, and that this attack might be the forerunner of a general attack upon the principle of private property as a whole. The form in which the latter solution-internal colonisation was recommended justified these misgivings. Generally speaking, the manner in which the rejection of this proposal was carried out was not skilful in respect of the effect on the bulk of the people and, in any case, it did not go to the root of the problem at all. Only two further ways were left open by which work and bread could be secured for the increasing population.
(3) It was possible to think of acquiring new territory on which a certain portion of the increasing population could be settled each year, and thus keep the nation in the position of being self-supporting.
(4) Our industry and commerce could have been organised in such a manner as to secure an increase in exports and thus be able to support our people by the increased purchasing power accruing from the profits made on foreign markets.
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Therefore, the problem was: A policy of territorial expansion or a colonial and commercial policy? Both policies were taken into consideration, examined, recommended and, rejected, from various standpoints, with the result that the second alternative was finally adopted. The sounder alternative, however, was undoubtedly the first. The principle of acquiring new territory, on which the surplus population could be settled, has many advantages to recommend it, especially if we take the future, rather than the present, into account. In the first place, too much importance cannot be attached to the necessity for adopting a policy which will make it possible to maintain a, healthy farmer class as the basis of the national community. Many of our present evils have their origin exclusively in the disproportion between the urban and rural portions of the population. A solid stock of small and medium farmers have at all times been the best protection which a nation could have against the social diseases that are prevalent to-day. Moreover, that is the only solution which guarantees the daily bread of a nation within the framework of its domestic national economy. With this condition once guaranteed, industry and commerce would retire from the unhealthy position of foremost importance which they hold to-day and would take their due place within the general scheme of national economy, adjusting the balance between demand and supply. Thus, industry and commerce would no longer constitute the basis of the national subsistence, but would be auxiliary institutions. By fulfilling their proper function, which is to adjust the balance between national production and national consumption, they render national subsistence more or less independent of foreign countries and thus assure the freedom and independence of the nation, especially at critical junctures in its history. Such a territorial policy, however, cannot be carried out in the Cameroons, but, almost exclusively, here in Europe. One must calmly and squarely face the truth that it certainly cannot be part of the dispensation of Divine Providence to give to onto nation a fifty times larger share of the surface of this globe than to another. In considering this state of affairs to-day, one must not allow existing political frontiers to distract attention from those frontiers which, on the principle of eternal justice, ought to exist.
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If there is sufficient ‘living space’ for all on this earth, then we ought to be given our share of the soil which is absolutely necessary for our existence, but of course nobody will be prepared to do so. At this point the right of self-preservation comes into effect, and when attempts to settle the difficulty in an amicable way are rejected, the clenched fist must take by force that which was refused to the open hand of friendship. If, in the past, our ancestors had based their political decisions on the same pacifist nonsense as our present generation does, we should not possess more than one-third of the national territory that we possess to-day and probably there would be no German nation to worry about its future in Europe. We owe the two eastern provinces of the Reich to the innate determination of our forefathers in their struggle for existence, and thus it is to the same determined policy that we owe the inner strength which is based on the extent of our political and racial territories and which alone has made it possible for us to exist up to now. There is still another reason why that solution would have been the correct one. Many contemporary European States are like pyramids standing on their apexes. The European territory which these States possess is ridiculously small when compared with the enormous overhead weight of their colonies, foreign trade, etc. It may be said that they have the apex in Europe and the base of the pyramid all over the world very different from the United States of America, which has its base on the American Continent and is in contact with the rest of the world only through its apex. Out of that situation arises the incomparable inner strength of the U.S.A. and the contrary situation is responsible for the weakness of most of the European colonial Powers. Britain cannot be suggested as an argument against this assertion, since faced with the British Empire, one is inclined to overlook the existence of the Anglo-Saxon world as such. Britain’s position cannot be compared with that of any other State in Europe, since together with the U.S.A. it forms a vast community of language and culture. Therefore, the only possibility which Germany had of carrying into effect a sound territorial policy of expansion was that of acquiring new territory in Europe itself.
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Colonies cannot serve this purpose as long as they are not suited for settlement by Europeans on a large scale. In the nineteenth century it was no longer possible to acquire such colonies by peaceful means. Therefore, any attempt at such a colonial expansion would have meant an enormous military struggle. Consequently, it would, have been more practical to undertake that military struggle for new territory in Europe, rather than to wage war for the acquisition of possessions abroad. Such a decision naturally demanded that the nation’s undivided energies should be devoted to it. A policy of that kind which requires for its fulfilment every ounce of available energy on the part of all concerned, cannot be carried into effect by half-measures or in a hesitating manner. The political activity of the German Reich should then have been directed exclusively towards this goal. No political step should have been taken as a result of any other consideration unconnected with this task and the means of accomplishing it. Germany should have been alive to the fact that such a goal could have been reached only by war, and the prospect of war should have been faced with calm and collected determination. The whole system of alliances should have been envisaged and valued from that standpoint. If new territory had to be acquired in Europe it could have been done mainly at Russia’s expense, and once again the new German Reich should have set out on its march alone the same road as was formerly trodden by the Teutonic Knights, in order to acquire soil for the German plough by means of the German sword, and thus provide the nation with its daily bread. For such a policy, however, there would have been only one possible ally in Europe and that was Britain. Only by alliance with Britain would it have been possible to safeguard the rear of the new German crusade. The justification for undertaking such a campaign would have been no less strong than the justification which our forefathers had for setting out on theirs. Not one of our pacifists refuses to eat the bread made from the grain grown in the eastern provinces, and yet the first ploughing there was done by the sword.
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No sacrifice should have been considered too great if it was a necessary means of gaining Britain’s friendship. Colonial and naval ambitions should have been abandoned and attempts should not have been made to compete against British industries. Only a clear and definite policy could lead to such an achievement. Such a policy would have demanded a renunciation of world trade, colonial intentions and naval power. All the means of power at the disposal of the State should have been concentrated in the military forces on land. This policy would have involved a period of temporary self-denial, for the sake of a great and powerful future. There was a time when Britain might have entered into negotiations with us on the grounds of that proposal, for Britain would have well understood that the problems arising from the steady increase in population were forcing Germany to look for a solution either in Europe with the help of Britain or, without Britain, in some other part of the world. This outlook was probably the chief reason why Britain tried to draw nearer to Germany about the close of the century. For the first time in Germany an attitude was then manifested which afterwards displayed itself in a most tragic way. People then gave expression to an unpleasant feeling that we might thus find ourselves obliged to do Britain’s dirty work as if an alliance could be based on anything else than mutual give-and-take! And British diplomats were still clever enough to know that an equivalent must be forthcoming in return for any services rendered. Let us suppose that in 1904, our German foreign policy was managed astutely enough to enable us to play the part which Japan played. It is not easy to measure the greatness of the results that might have accrued to Germany from such a policy. There would have been no World War. The blood which would have been shed in 1904 would not have been one tenth of that shed between 1914 and 1918, and what a position Germany would hold in the world to-day! In any case, the alliance with Austria would then have been an absurdity, for this mummy of a State did not attach itself to Germany for the purpose of carrying through a war, but rather to maintain a perpetual state of peace which was meant to be exploited for the purpose of slowly but persistently exterminating the German element in the Dual Monarchy.
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Another reason for the impossibility of forming this alliance was that nobody could expect this State to take an active part in defending German national interests, as long as it did not have sufficient strength and determination to put an end to the policy of de-Germanisation just beyond its own frontiers. If Germany was not moved by a sufficiently powerful national sentiment and was not sufficiently ruthless to take away from that absurd Habsburg State the right to decide the destinies often million inhabitants who were of the same nationality as the Germans themselves, surely it was out of the question to expect her to engage in any far-sighted and courageous undertaking. The attitude of the old Reich towards the Austrian question might have been taken as a test of its stamina for the struggle in which the destiny of the whole nation was at stake. In any case, the policy of oppression against the German population in Austria should not have been allowed to go on and to become more pronounced year by year, for the value of Austria as an ally depended solely on the preservation of the German element in that country. That course was not followed. Nothing was, dreaded so much as the possibility of an armed conflict; but finally, and at a most unfavourable moment, the conflict had to be faced. Germany thought to cut herself loose from the cords of Destiny, but Destiny held her fast. She dreamt of maintaining a world peace and woke up to find herself in a world war. That dream of peace was a most significant reason why the abovementioned third alternative for the future development of Germany was not even taken into consideration. The fact was recognised that new territory could be gained only in the east of Europe, but this meant that there would be fighting ahead, whereas Germany wanted peace at any cost. The slogan of German foreign policy had altered from ‘Preservation of the German nation at all costs’ to ‘Preservation of world-peace at any price.’ We know what the result was. I shall resume the discussion of this point in detail later on. There remained still another alternative, which we may call the fourth, namely, industry and world trade, naval power and colonies.
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Such a development might certainly have been achieved more easily and more rapidly. To colonise a territory is a slow process, often extending over centuries. Yet this fact is the source of its inner strength; for it is not through a sudden burst of enthusiasm that it can be put into effect, but rather through a gradual and enduring process of growth quite different from industrial progress, which can be artificially speeded up within a few years. The result thus achieved, however, is not of lasting quality but something frail, like a soap-bubble. It is much easier to build a fleet quickly than to carry through the tough task of settling a territory with farmers and establishing farmsteads, but the former is also more quickly destroyed than the latter. In adopting such a course Germany must have known that to follow it out, would necessarily mean war sooner or later. Only children could have believed that sweet and unctuous expressions of friendship and persistent avowals of peaceful intentions could get them their bananas through this ‘friendly competition between the nations,’ without the prospect of ever having to fight for them. Once we had taken this road, Britain was bound to be our enemy at some time to come. Of course it fitted in nicely with our innocent assumptions, but still it was absurd to grow indignant at the fact that a day came when the British took the liberty of opposing our peaceful penetration with the brutality of violent egotists. Naturally, we, on our side, would never have done such a thing. If a European territorial policy of expansion against Russia could have been put into practice only if we had had Britain as our ally, a colonial and world-trade policy on the other hand, could have been carried into effect only against British interests and with the support of Russia. But then this policy should have been adopted in full consciousness of all the consequences it involved and, above all things, Austria should have been discarded as quickly as possible. At the close of the century the alliance with Austria had become a veritable absurdity from all points of view, but nobody thought of forming an alliance with Russia against Britain, just as nobody thought of making Britain an ally against Russia, for in either case, the final result would inevitably have been war, and to avoid war was the very reason why a commercial and industrial policy was decided upon.
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It was believed that the peaceful conquest of the world by commercial means provided a method which would permanently supplant the policy of, force. Occasionally, however, there were doubts about the efficacy of this principle, especially when some quite incomprehensible warnings were now and again uttered by Britain. That was the reason why the fleet was built. It was not for the purpose of attacking or annihilating Britain, but merely to defend the concept of world peace, mentioned above, and also to defend the principle of conquering the world by ‘peaceful’ means. Therefore this fleet was kept within such limits as made it inferior to the British fleet, not only as regards the number and tonnage of the vessels, but also in regard to their armament, the idea being to furnish new proofs of peaceful intentions. The chatter about the peaceful conquest of the world by commercial means was probably the most completely nonsensical stuff ever raised to the dignity of a guiding principle in the policy of a State. This nonsense became even more foolish when Britain was pointed out as a typical example to prove how the thing could be done. Our intellectual attitude towards history and our professorial ideas in that domain have done irreparable harm and offer a striking proof of how people ‘learn’ history without understanding anything of it. As a matter of fact. Britain ought to have been looked upon as a convincing argument against the theory of pacific conquest of the world by commercial means. No nation prepared the way for its commercial conquests more brutally than Britain did by means of the sword and no other nation has defended such conquests more ruthlessly. Is it not a characteristic quality of British statecraft that it knows how to use political power in order to gain economic advantages and, inversely, to turn economic conquests into political power? What an astounding error it was to believe that Britain would not have the courage to shed her own blood for the purpose of economic expansion! The fact that Britain did not possess a national army proved nothing, for it is not the actual military structure of the moment that matters, but rather the will and determination to use whatever military strength is available.
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Britain has always had the armament which she needed. She always fought with those weapons which were necessary for success. She sent mercenary troops to fight as long as mercenaries, sufficed, but she never hesitated to draw heavily and deeply on the best blood of the whole nation when victory could be obtained only by such a sacrifice, and in every case the fighting spirit, dogged determination, and use of brutal means in conducting military operations have always remained the same. But in Germany, through the medium of the schools, the press and the comic papers, there was gradually formed an idea of the Englishman and, to a greater degree, of his Empire, which was bound eventually to lead to the worst kind of self-deception. This absurdity slowly, but persistently, spread to every section of the German nation. The result was an undervaluation for which we have had to pay a heavy penalty. The delusion was so profound that the Englishman was looked upon as a shrewd business man, but at the same time, as a physical coward. Unfortunately, our sagacious teachers of history did not realise that it is not possible to build up such a mighty organisation as the British Empire by mere swindle and fraud. The few who called attention to that truth were either ignored or silenced. I can call vividly to mind the astonished looks of my comrades when they found themselves for the first time face to face with the Tommies in Flanders. After a few days of fighting the consciousness slowly dawned on our soldiers that those Scotsmen were not like the ones we had seen described and caricatured in the comic papers and mentioned in the communiques. It was then that I formed my first ideas on the efficiency of various forms of propaganda. Such a falsification, however, served the purpose of those who were responsible for it. This caricature of the Englishman, though false, could be used to prove the possibility of conquering the world, peacefully by commercial means. Where the Englishman had succeeded we should also succeed.
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Our far greater honesty and our freedom from that specifically English ‘perfidy’ would be assets on our side. Thereby it was hoped that the sympathy of the smaller nations and the confidence of the greater nations could be gained more easily. Because we ourselves believed in it, we did not realise that our honesty was an object of profound aversion to other people. The rest of the world looked on our behaviour as the manifestation of a shrewd deceitfulness and it was not until the revolution came, that they were amazed at the deeper insight it gave them into our mentality, sincere even beyond the limits of stupidity. Once we understand the part played by that absurd notion of conquering the world by peaceful commercial means, we can clearly understand how that other absurdity, the Triple Alliance, came to exist. With what State then could an alliance have been made? In alliance with Austria we could not acquire new territory by military means, even in Europe, and this very fact was the real reason for the inner weakness of the Triple Alliance. A Bismarck could permit himself such a makeshift, but certainly not any of his bungling successors, least of all when the foundations no longer existed on which lie had formed the Triple Alliance. In Bismarck’s time Austria could still be looked upon as a German State but the gradual introduction of universal suffrage turned, the country into a parliamentary Babel in which the German voice was scarcely audible. From the point of view of racial policy, this alliance with Austria was simply disastrous. A new Slav Great Power was allowed to grow up close to the frontiers of the German Reich. Later on this Power was bound to adopt towards Germany an attitude different from that of Russia, for example. The alliance was thus bound to become more empty and more feeble, because its only supporters were losing their influence and were being systematically pushed out of the more important public offices. About the year 1900, the alliance with Austria had already entered upon the same phase as the alliance between Austria and Italy. Here also only two alternatives were possible—either to take the side of the Habsburg Monarchy or to raise a protest against the oppression of the German element in Austria. But, generally speaking, when one adopts such a course it is bound eventually to lead to open conflict.
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From the psychological point of view also, the value of the Triple Alliance was slight, since the soundness of an alliance diminishes in the same ratio in which its object is limited to the defence of the status quo. On the other hand, an alliance will increase in strength the more the parties concerned in it may hope to use it as a means of reaching some practical goal of expansion. Here, as everywhere else, strength lies not in defence, but in attack. This truth was recognised in various quarters but, unfortunately, not by those called upon to rule the people. As early as 1912, Ludendorff, who was then colonel and attached to the General Staff, pointed out these weak features of the alliance in a memorandum, but of course the ‘statesmen’ did not attach any importance or value to that document. In general it would seem as if common sense were a faculty that is present only in the case of ordinary mortals but is entirely absent when we come to deal with that branch of the species known as ‘diplomats.’ It was lucky for Germany that the war of 1914 broke out with Austria as its direct cause, for thus the Habsburgs were compelled to participate. Had the situation been reversed, Germany would have been left to her own resources. The Habsburg State would never have been ready or willing to take part in a war, for the outbreak of which Germany was responsible. What was the object of so much obloquy later in the case of Italy, would have taken place, only earlier, in the case of Austria. In other words, if Germany had been forced to go to war for some reason of her own, Austria would have remained ‘neutral’ in order to safeguard the State against a revolution which might have begun immediately after the war had started. The Slav element would have preferred to smash up the Dual Monarchy in 1914 rather than permit it to come to the assistance of Germany, but at that time there were only a few who understood all the dangers and difficulties which resulted from the alliance with the Danubian Monarchy. In the first place, Austria had too many enemies who were eagerly looking forward to obtaining the heritage of that decrepit State and who gradually developed a certain animosity against Germany, because Germany was an obstacle to their desires inasmuch as she kept the Dual Monarchy from falling to pieces, an event that was hoped for on all sides. The conviction developed that Vienna could be reached only via Berlin.
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In the second place, by adopting this policy Germany lost her best and most promising chances of other alliances. In place of these possibilities one now observed a growing tension in her relations with Russia and even with Italy, and this in spite of the fact that the general attitude in Rome was just as favourable to Germany as it was hostile to Austria—a hostility which lay dormant in the individual Italian and broke out violently on occasion. Since a commercial and industrial policy had been adopted, no motive was left for waging war against Russia. Only the enemies of the two countries, Germany and Russia, could, in these circumstances, have an active interest in such a war. As a matter of fact, it was only the Jews and the Marxists who tried to stir up bad blood between the two States. In the third place, the alliance constituted a permanent danger to German security, for any Great Power that was hostile to Bismarck’s Reich could mobilise a number of other States in a war against Germany by promising them tempting spoils at the expense of the Austrian ally. It was possible to arouse the whole of Eastern Europe against Austria, especially Russia and Italy. The world coalition which had developed under the leadership of King Edward could never have become a reality if Germany’s ally, Austria, had not offered such an alluring prospect of booty. It was this fact alone which made it possible to combine so many heterogeneous States with divergent interests into one common phalanx of attack. Every member could hope to enrich himself at the expense of Austria, if he joined in the general attack against Germany. The fact that Turkey was also a tacit party to the unfortunate alliance with Austria augmented Germany’s peril to an extraordinary degree. Jewish international finance needed the bait of the Austrian heritage in order to carry out its plans of ruining Germany, for Germany had not yet surrendered to their general and international control in the sphere of trade and finance. Thus it was possible to consolidate that coalition and make it strong enough and brave enough, through sheer weight of numbers, to join in a conflict with the ‘horned’ Siegfried.
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The alliance with the Habsburg Monarchy, which I loathed while still in Austria, was the subject of grave concern on my part and caused me to meditate on it so persistently that I was confirmed in the opinions which I had previously formed. Among the few people with whom I consorted at that time I did not conceal my conviction that this sinister agreement with a State doomed to collapse would also bring catastrophe to Germany if she did not free herself in time. I never for a moment wavered in that firm conviction, even when the tempest of the World War seemed to have made shipwreck of the reasoning faculty itself and had put blind enthusiasm in its place, even among those circles where the coolest and hardest objective thinking ought to have held sway. In the trenches, I voiced and upheld my own opinion whenever these problems came under discussion. I held that to abandon the Habsburg Monarchy would involve no sacrifice, if Germany could thereby reduce the number of her own enemies, for the millions of Germans who had donned the steel helmet had done so, not in order to fight for the maintenance of corrupt dynasty, but rather for the salvation of the German people. Before the War there were occasions on which it seemed that at least one section of the German public had some slight misgivings about the political wisdom of the alliance with Austria. From time to time German conservative circles issued warnings against being over-confident about the worth of that alliance; but, like every other sensible suggestion made at that time, it was thrown to the winds. The general conviction was that the right measures had been adopted to ‘conquer’ the world, that the success of these measures would be enormous and the sacrifices negligible. Once again the ‘uninitiated’ layman could do nothing but look on while the ‘elect’ headed straight for disaster enticing their beloved people to follow them, as the rats followed the Pied Piper of Hamelin. If we would look for the deeper grounds which made it possible to foist on the people this absurd notion of peacefully conquering the world through commercial penetration, and ask how it was possible to put forward the maintenance of world-peace as a national aim, we shall find that these grounds lay in the general morbid condition of German political thought.
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The triumphant progress of technical science in Germany and the marvellous development of German industry and commerce led us to forget that a powerful State had been the necessary prerequisite of that success. On the contrary, certain circles even went so far as to give vent to the theory that the State owed its very existence to these phenomena; that it was, above all, an economic institution and should be constituted in accordance with economic interests. Therefore, it was held, the State was dependent on the economic structure. This condition of things was looked upon and glorified as the soundest and most normal. Now, the truth is that the State in itself has nothing whatsoever to do with a definite economic concept or a definite economic development. It does not arise from a compact made between contracting parties, within a certain delimited territory, for the purpose of serving economic ends. The State is a community of living beings who have kindred physical and spiritual natures, organised for the purpose of ensuring the conservation of their own kind and fulfilling those ends which Providence has assigned to that particular race or racial branch. Therein, and therein alone, lies the purpose and meaning of a State. Economic activity is one of the many auxiliary means which are necessary for the attainment of those aims. But economic activity is never the origin or purpose of a State, except where a State has, from the outset, been founded on a false and unnatural basis. This alone explains why a State as such does not necessarily need a certain delimited territory as a condition of its foundation. This condition becomes a necessary prerequisite only among those people who would provide and assure subsistence for their kinsfolk through their own industry, which means that they are ready to carry on the struggle for existence by means of their own work. People who can sneak their way, like parasites, into the bosom of other nations, and make others work for them on various pretences, can form a State without possessing any definite delimited territory.
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This is chiefly applicable to that parasitic race which, particularly at the present time, preys upon the honest portion of mankind; I mean the Jews. The Jewish State has never been delimited in space. It has been spread all over the world, without any frontiers whatsoever, and has always been constituted from the membership of one race exclusively. That is why the Jews have always formed a State within the State. One of the most ingenious tricks ever devised has been that of sailing the Jewish ship of state under the flag of religion and thus securing that tolerance which Aryans are always ready to grant to different religious faiths. The Mosaic Law is really nothing else than the doctrine of the preservation of the Jewish race and, therefore, includes all spheres of sociological, political and economic science which have a bearing on the main end in view. The instinct for the preservation of one’s own species is the primary cause that leads to the formation of human communities. Hence, the State is a racial organism, and not an economic organisation. The difference between the two is so great as to be incomprehensible to our contemporary so-called ‘statesmen.’ That is why they like to believe that the State can be built up on an economic basis, whereas the truth is that it has always resulted from the exercise of those qualities which are part of the will to preserve the species end the race. These qualities always exist and operate through the heroic virtues and have nothing to do with commercial egotism, for the conservation of the species always presupposes that the individual is ready to sacrifice himself. Such is the meaning of the poet’s lines:
Und setzet ihr nicht das Leben ein, Nie wird euch das Leben gewonnen sein. (And if you do not stake your life, You will never win life for yourself.)
The sacrifice of the individual existence is necessary in order to assure the conservation of the race. Hence it is that the most essential condition for the establishment and maintenance of a State is a certain feeling of solidarity, grounded in an identity of character and race and in a readiness to defend these at all costs.
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With people who live on their own territory this will result in a development of the heroic virtues; with a parasitic people it will develop into hypocrisy and perfidious cruelty, unless we admit that these characteristics are innate and that the varying political forms through which the parasitic race expresses itself are only the outward manifestation of innate characteristics. At least in the beginning, the formation of a State can result only from a manifestation of the heroic qualities I have mentioned, and the people who fail in the struggle for existence, that is to say, those who become vassals and are thereby condemned to disappear entirely sooner or later, are those who do not display the heroic virtues in the struggle, or those who fall victims to the, perfidy of the parasites. Even in this latter case the failure is not so much due to lack of intellectual powers, but rather to a lack of courage and determination, which attempts to disguise itself as humane feeling. The qualities which are employed for the foundation and preservation of a State have accordingly little or nothing to do with trade and industry, and this is conspicuously demonstrated by the fact that the inner strength of a State only very rarely coincides with what is called its economic expansion. On the contrary, there are numerous examples to show that a period of economic prosperity indicates the approaching decline of a State. If it were correct to attribute the foundation of human communities to economic forces, then the power of the State as such would be at its highest pitch during periods of economic prosperity, and not vice versa. It is especially difficult to understand how the belief that the State is brought into being and preserved by economic forces could gain currency in a country which has given proof of the opposite in every phase of its history. The history of Prussia shows, with particular clarity and distinctness, that it is as a result of the moral, virtues of the people and not of their economic circumstances, that a State is formed. It is only under the protection of those virtues that economic activities can be developed and the latter will continue to flourish until a time comes when the creative political capacity declines. Thereupon the economic structure will also break down, a phenomenon
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which is now happening in an alarming manner before our eyes. The material interests of mankind can prosper only in the shade of the heroic virtues; the moment they become the primary considerations of life they wreck the basis of their own existence. Whenever the political power of Germany was especially strong the economic situation also improved, but whenever economic interests alone occupied the foremost place in the life of the people, and thrust ideals into the background, the State collapsed and economic ruin soon followed. If we consider the question of what those forces actually are which are necessary for the creation and preservation of a State, we can sum them up in the phrase, ‘the capacity and readiness of the individual to sacrifice himself for the common welfare.’ That these qualities have nothing at all to do with economics can be proved by referring to the simple fact that man does not sacrifice himself for material interests. In other words, he will die for an ideal, but not for a business. The marvellous gift of public psychology which the English possess was never better shown than in the way in which they presented their case in the World War. We were fighting for our bread; but the English declared that they were fighting for ‘freedom,’ and not even for their own freedom, but for the freedom of the small nations. German people laughed at that piece of effrontery and were angered by it, but in doing so they showed how political thought had declined among our so-called diplomats in Germany, even before the War. These diplomatists did not have the slightest notion of that force which makes men face death of their own free will and determination. As long as the German people continued to believe that they were fighting for ideals in the War of 1914, they stood firm. As soon as they were told that they were fighting only for their daily bread they began to give up the struggle. Our clever ‘statesmen’ were greatly amazed at this change of feeling. They never understood that as soon as man is called upon to struggle for purely material causes he will avoid death as best he can, for death and the enjoyment of the material fruits of a victory are quite incompatible concepts.
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The frailest woman will become a heroine when the life of her own child is at stake, and only the will to save their race and native land or the State, which offers protection to their race, has, throughout the ages, been the urge which has forced men to face the weapons of their enemies. The following may be proclaimed as a truth that always holds good: A State has never arisen from commercial causes for the purpose of peacefully serving commercial ends. States have always arisen from the instinct to maintain the racial group, whether this instinct manifest itself in the heroic sphere or in the sphere of cunning and chicanery. In the first instance we have the Aryan States, based on the principle of work and cultural development; in the second, we have the Jewish parasitic colonies. As soon as economic interests begin to predominate over the racial and cultural instincts of a people or a State, these economic interests become the disintegrating cause that leads to subjugation and oppression. The belief, which prevailed in Germany before the War, that the world could be opened up and even conquered for Germany through a system of peaceful commercial penetration and a colonial policy, was a typical symptom which indicated the decline of those real qualities whereby States are created and preserved, and indicated also the decline of that insight, will-power and practical determination which go with those qualities. The World War, with its consequences, was the natural outcome of that decline. To anyone who had not thought over the matter deeply, this attitude of the German people—which was quite general—must have seemed an insoluble enigma. After all, Germany herself was a magnificent example of an empire that had been built up purely by a policy of power. Prussia, which was the generative cell of the German Reich, had been created by brilliant heroic deeds and not by a financial or commercial compact, and the Reich itself was but the magnificent recompense for a leadership that had been conducted on a policy of power and military valour. How then did it happen that the political instincts of this very same German people became so degenerate? It was not merely one isolated phenomenon which pointed to this decadence, but morbid symptoms which appeared in alarming numbers, now all over the body politic, or eating into the body of the nation, like a gangrenous ulcer.
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It seemed as if some all-pervading poisonous fluid had been injected by some mysterious hand into the bloodstream of this once heroic body, bringing about a creeping paralysis that affected the reason and the elementary instinct of self-preservation. During the years 1912–1914, I used to ponder perpetually on those problems which related to the policy of the Triple Alliance and the economic policy then being pursued by the German Reich. Once again I came to the conclusion that the only explanation of this enigma lay in the operation of that force with which I had already become acquainted in Vienna, though from a different angle. The force to which I refer was the Marxist teaching and Weltanschauung and its organised action throughout the nation. For the second time in my life I plunged deep into the study of that destructive teaching. This time, however, I was not urged to the study of the question by the impressions and influences of my daily environment, but directed rather by the observation of general phenomena in the political life of Germany. In delving again into the theoretical literature of this new world and endeavouring to get a clear view of the possible consequences of its teaching, I compared, the theoretical principles of Marxism with the phenomena and happenings brought about by its activities in the political, cultural, and economic spheres. For the first time in my life I now turned my attention to the efforts that were being made to subdue this universal pest. I studied Bismarck’s exceptional legislation, in its original concept, its operation and its results. Gradually I formed a basis for my own opinions, which has proved as solid as a rock, so that ever since have I had to change my attitude towards the general problem. I also made a further and more thorough analysis of the relations between Marxism and Jewry. During my sojourn in Vienna I used to look upon Germany as an imperturbable colossus, but now serious doubts and misgivings often assailed me.
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In my own mind and in my conversation with my small circle of acquaintances I used to criticise Germany’s foreign policy and the incredibly superficial way, according to my thinking, in which Marxism was dealt with, though it was then the most important problem in Germany. I could not understand how Germany could stumble blindfold into the midst of this peril, the effects of which would be momentous if the openly declared aims of Marxism could be put into practice. Even as early as that time I warned people around me, just as I am warning a wider audience now, against that soothing slogan of all indolent and cowardly natures: Nothing can happen to us. A similar mental contagion had already destroyed a mighty empire. Can Germany escape the operation of those laws to which all other human communities are subject? In the years 1913 and 1914, I expressed my opinion for the first time in various circles, some of which are now supporters of the National Socialist Movement, that the problem of how the future of the German nation can be secured is the problem of how Marxism can be exterminated. I considered the disastrous German policy of alliances as one of the consequences resulting from the disintegrating effects of the Marxist teaching, for the alarming feature was that this teaching was invisibly corrupting the foundations of a healthy political and economic outlook. Those who had been themselves contaminated frequently did not realise that their aims and actions sprang from this Weltanschauung, which they otherwise openly repudiated. Long before then, the spiritual and moral decline of the German people had set in, though those who were affected by this morbid decadence were frequently unaware—as often happens—of the forces which were breaking up their very existence. Sometimes they tried to cure the disease by ‘doctoring’ the symptoms, which were taken as the cause, but since nobody recognised or wanted to recognise the real cause of the disease, this way of combating Marxism was no more effective than the application of some quack’s ointment.
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During the boisterous years of my youth, nothing used to damp my wild spirits so much as to think that I was born at a time when the world had manifestly decided not to erect any more temples of fame except in honour of business people and government officials. The tempest of historical achievements seemed to have permanently subsided, so much so, that the future appeared to be irrevocably delivered over to what was called peaceful competition between the nations. This simply meant a system of mutual exploitation by fraudulent means, the principle of resorting to the use of force in self-defence being formally excluded. Individual countries increasingly assumed the appearance of commercial undertakings, grabbing territory, clients and concessions from each other under any and every kind of pretext, and it was all carried out to the accompaniment of loud but innocuous shouting. This trend of affairs seemed destined to develop steadily and permanently. Having the support of public approbation, it seemed bound eventually to transform the world into a mammoth department store. In the vestibule of this emporium there would be rows of monumental busts which would confer immortality on those profiteers who had proved themselves the shrewdest at their trade and those administrative officials who had shown themselves the most innocuous. The salesmen could be represented by the English and the administrative functionaries by the Germans; whereas the Jews would have to sacrifice themselves and be content with the unprofitable calling, of proprietorship, for they are constantly avowing that they make no profits and are always being called upon to ‘pay out.’ Moreover, they have the advantage of being versed in foreign languages. Why could I not have been born a hundred years ago, I used to ask myself, somewhere about the time of the Wars of Liberation, when a man was still of some value even though he had no ‘business?’ Thus I used to think it an ill-deserved stroke of bad luck that I had arrived too late on this terrestrial globe and I felt chagrined at the idea that my life would have to run its course along peaceful and orderly lines.
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As a boy I was anything but a pacifist and all attempts to make me so turned out futile. Then the Boer War came, like a flash of lightning on the far horizon. Day after day, I used to gaze intently at the newspapers and I almost ‘devoured’ the telegrams and communiques, overjoyed to think that I could witness that heroic struggle, even though from so great a distance. When the Russo-Japanese War came, I was older and better able to judge for myself. For national reasons I then took the side of the Japanese in our discussions and I looked upon the defeat of the Russians as a blow to Austrian Slavism. Many years had passed between that time and my arrival in Munich. I now realised that what I formerly believed to be a morbid decadence was only the lull before the storm. During my Vienna days, the Balkans were already in the grip of that sultry pause which presages the violent storm. Here and there, a flash of lightning could be seen occasionally, but it rapidly disappeared in sinister gloom. Then the Balkan War broke out, and with it, the first gusts of the coming tornado swept across a highly strung Europe. In the supervening calm men felt the atmosphere oppressive with foreboding, so much so that the sense of an impending catastrophe became transformed into a feeling of impatient expectancy. They wished that Heaven would give free rein to the fate which could now no longer be curbed. Then the first great bolt of lightning struck the earth. The storm broke and the thunder of the heavens intermingled with the roar of the cannons in the World War. When the news came to Munich that the Archduke Franz Ferdinand had been murdered, I had been at home all day and did not learn the particulars of how it happened. At first, I feared that the shots had been fired by some German-Austrian students who had been aroused to a state of furious indignation by the persistent pro-Slav activities of the heir to the Habsburg throne and therefore wished to liberate the German population from this internal enemy. It was quite easy to imagine what the result of such a mistake would have been.
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It would have brought on, a new wave of persecution, the motives of which would have been ‘justified’ before the whole world, but soon afterwards I heard the names of the presumed assassins and learned also that they were known to be Serbs. I felt somewhat dumbfounded in face of the inexorable vengeance which Destiny had wrought. The greatest friend of the Slavs had fallen a victim to the bullets of Slav patriots. Anyone who was in a position to observe attentively the reactions between Austria and Serbia during those latter years must surely have realised that something had been set in motion which could no longer be checked. It is unjust to the Austrian Government of that time to blame it now for the form and tenor of the ultimatum which was then presented. In a similar position and in similar circumstances, no other Power in the world would have acted otherwise. On her southern frontiers Austria had a relentless mortal foe who indulged in acts of provocation against the Dual Monarchy at intervals which were becoming more and more frequent. This persistent line of conduct would not have been relaxed until the arrival of the opportune moment for the destruction of the Empire. In Austria there was good reason to fear that, at the latest, this moment would come with the death of the old Emperor. Once that had taken place, it was quite possible that the Monarchy would not be able to offer any serious resistance. For some years past, the State had been so completely identified with the personality of Franz Joseph that, in the eyes of the great mass of the people, the death of this venerable personification of the Empire would be tantamount to the death of the Empire itself. Indeed, it was one of the clever artifices of Slav policy to foster the impression that the Austrian State owed its very existence exclusively to the extraordinary and rare talents of that monarch. This kind of flattery was particularly welcome, at the Hofburg, all the more so, because it had no relation whatever to the services actually rendered by the Emperor. No effort whatsoever was made to locate the carefully prepared sting which lay hidden in this glorifying praise. One fact which was entirely overlooked, perhaps intentionally, was that the more the Empire remained dependent on the so-called administrative talent of ‘the wisest monarch of all times,’ the more catastrophic would be the situation when Death came to knock at the door and demand its tribute.
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Was it possible even to imagine the Austrian Empire without its venerable ruler? Would not the tragedy which befell Maria Theresia be repeated at once? It is unjust to governmental circles in Vienna to reproach them with having instigated a war which might have been prevented. The war was bound to come. Perhaps it might have been postponed for a year or two at the most, but it had always been the misfortune of German as well as of Austrian diplomats that they endeavoured to put off the inevitable day of reckoning, with the result, that they were finally compelled to deliver their blow at a most inopportune moment. There is every reason to believe that another attempt to preserve peace would only have served to postpone the war until an even more unpropitious moment. Those who did not wish this war ought to have had the courage to take the consequences of the refusal upon themselves. Those consequences must necessarily have meant the sacrifice of Austria, and even then war would have come not as a war in which all the nations were banded together against us, but in the form of a dismemberment of the Habsburg Monarchy. In that case we should have had to decide whether we should come to the assistance of the Habsburgs or stand aside as spectators, with our arms folded, and thus allow fate to run its course. Those who are loudest in their imprecations to-day and make a great parade of wisdom in judging the causes of the war are the very people whose activities were the most fatal factor in steering us into the war. For several decades previously the German Social Democrats had been agitating in an underhand and knavish way for war against Russia, whereas the German Centre Party, with, religious ends in view, had worked to make the Austrian State the chief centre and turning-point of German policy. The consequences of this folly had now to be borne. What came was bound to come and in no circumstances could it have been avoided. The fault of the German Government lay in the fact that, merely for the sake of preserving peace at all costs, they continued to miss the occasions that were favourable for action, got entangled in an alliance for the purpose of preserving the peace of the world, and thus finally became the victim of a world coalition which opposed the German effort for the maintenance of peace and was determined to bring about the World War.
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Had the Austrian Government of that time formulated its ultimatum in less drastic terms, that would not have altered the situation at all, except inasmuch as they themselves might have become the victims of public indignation, for, in the eyes of the great masses, the ultimatum was toe moderate and certainly not excessive or brutal. Those who would deny this to-day are either simpletons with feeble memories or else deliberate falsehoodmongers. The war of 1914 was certainly not forced on the masses; it was even desired by the whole people. There was a desire to bring the general feeling of uncertainty to an end once and for all. And it is only in the light of this fact that we can understand how more than two million German men and youths voluntarily joined the colours, ready to shed the last drop, of their blood for the cause. For me those hours came as a deliverance from the distress that had weighed upon me during the days of my youth. I am not ashamed to acknowledge to-day that I was carried away by the enthusiasm of the moment and that I sank down upon my knees and thanked Heaven out of the fullness of my heart for the favour of having been permitted to live in such a time. The fight for freedom had broken out on a scale unparalleled in the history of the world. From the moment that Fate took the helm in hand, the conviction grew among the masses of the people that now it was not a question of deciding the destinies of Austria or Serbia, but that the very existence of the German nation itself was at stake. For the last time, during many years of blindness, the people saw clearly into the future. Therefore, almost immediately after the gigantic struggle had begun, an excessive enthusiasm was replaced by a more earnest and more fitting undertone, because the exaltation of the popular spirit was not a mere passing frenzy. It was only too necessary that the gravity of the situation should be recognised. At that time, there was, generally speaking, not the slightest presentiment or conception of how long the war might last.
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People dreamed of the soldiers being home by Christmas and that then they would resume their daily work in peace. Whatever mankind desires, that it will hope for and believe in. The overwhelming majority of the people had long since grown weary of the perpetual insecurity in the general condition of public affairs. Hence, it was only natural that no one believed that the Austro-Serbian conflict could be shelved. Therefore, they looked forward to a radical settlement of accounts. I also belonged to the millions that desired this. The moment the, news of the Sarajevo outrage reached Munich two ideas came into my mind: First, that war was absolutely inevitable and, second, that the Habsburg State would now be forced to honour its signature to the Alliance, for what I had feared most was that one day Germany herself, perhaps as a result of the Alliance, would become involved in a conflict the direct cause of which was not Austria. In such a contingency, I feared that the Austrian State, for domestic political reasons, would find itself unable to decide in favour of its ally. The pro-Slav majority within the country would have immediately set to work to destroy any such intention and would rather have had the entire State go to rack and ruin than lend its ally the necessary assistance. But now this danger was removed. The old State was compelled to fight, whether it wished to do so or not. My own attitude towards the conflict was equally simple and clear. I believed that it was not a case of Austria fighting to get satisfaction from Serbia, but rather a case of Germany fighting for her own existence—the German nation for its own ‘to be’ or ‘not to be,’ for its freedom and for its future. The work of Bismarck must now be carried on. Young Germany must show herself worthy of the blood shed by our fathers on so many heroic fields of battle, from Weissenburg to Sedan and Paris, and if this struggle should bring us victory, our people would again rank foremost among the great nations. Only then could the German Reich assert itself as the mighty champion of peace, without the necessity of restricting the daily bread of its children for the sake of maintaining that peace.
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As a boy and as a young man, I often longed for the occasion to prove that my national enthusiasm was not mere vapouring. Hurrahing sometimes seemed to me to be a kind of sin, since I had not yet by my own actions earned the right to do so, for, after all, who has the right to shout that triumphant cry if he has not won that right where there is no play-acting and where the hand of the goddess of Destiny puts the truth and sincerity of nations and men to her inexorable test? Just as millions of others, I felt a proud joy in being permitted to go through this test. I had so often sung Deutschland uber Alles and so often roared ‘Heil’ that, I now thought it a kind of retrospective grace that I was granted the right of appearing before the court of eternal justice to testify to the truth of those sentiments. One thing was clear to me from the very beginning, namely, that in the event of war, which now seemed inevitable, my books would have to be thrown aside forthwith. I also realised that my place would have to be where the inner voice of conscience called me. I had left Austria principally for political reasons. What, therefore, could be more natural than that I should put my political opinions into practice, now that the war had begun. I had no desire to fight for the Habsburg cause, but I was prepared to die at any time for my own kinsfolk and the Reich to which they really belonged. On August 3rd, 1914, I presented an urgent petition to His Majesty, King Ludwig III, requesting to be allowed to serve in a Bavarian regiment. In those days the Chancellery had its hands full and, therefore, I was all the more pleased when a day later I received the answer to my request. I opened the document with trembling hands, and no words of mine could now describe the satisfaction I felt on reading that I was instructed to report to a Bavarian regiment. Within a few days I was wearing that uniform which I was not to doff again for nearly six years. For me, as for every German, the most memorable period of my life now began. Face to face with that mighty struggle, all the past fell away into oblivion. With a wistful pride I look back on those days, especially because we are now approaching the tenth anniversary of that memorable happening.
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I recall those early weeks of war when a kind fortune permitted me to take my place in that heroic struggle among the nations. As the scene unfolds itself before my mind, it seems like yesterday. I see myself among my young comrades on our first parade drill, and so on, until at last the day came on which we were to leave for the front. In common with the others, I had one worry during those days. This was a fear that we might arrive too late for the fighting at the front. Time and again, that thought disturbed me and every, announcement of a victorious engagement left a fear that we might be too late, which increased as the news of further victories arrived. At long last the day came when we left Munich on active service. For the first time in my life, I saw the Rhine, as we journeyed westwards to stand guard before that historic German river against its traditional and grasping enemy. As the first soft rays of the morning sun broke through the light mist and disclosed to us the Niederwald Statue, with one accord the whole troop-train broke into the strains of Die Wacht am Rhein. I then felt as if my heart would burst. Then followed a damp, cold night in Flanders. We marched in silence throughout the night and as the morning sun came through the mist an iron greeting suddenly burst above our heads. Shrapnel exploded in our midst and spluttered on the damp ground, but before the smoke of the explosion disappeared, a wild ‘Hurrah’ was shouted from two hundred throats in response to this, first greeting of Death. Then began the whistling of bullets and the booming of cannon, the whining and droning of shells; with eyes straining feverishly, we pressed forward; quicker and quicker, until we finally came to close-quarter fighting, beyond the beet-fields and the meadows. Soon the strains of a song reached us from afar. Nearer and nearer, from company to company, it came, and while Death began to make havoc in our ranks, we passed the song on to those beside us: Deutschland, Deutschland über Alles, über Alles in der Welt! After four days in the trenches we came back. Even our step was no longer what it had been. Boys of seventeen now looked like grown-up men. The rank and file of the List Regiment had not been properly trained in the art of warfare, but they knew how to die like old soldiers.
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That was the beginning, and thus we carried on from year to year. A feeling of horror replaced the romantic fighting spirit. Enthusiasm cooled down gradually and exuberant spirits were quelled by the fear of ever-present Death. A time came when there arose within each one of us a conflict between the urge to self-preservation and the call of duty, and I had to go through that conflict too. As Death sought its prey everywhere and unrelentingly, a nameless something rebelled within the weak body and tried to introduce itself under the name of common sense; but in reality it was fear, which had taken on this cloak in order to impose itself on the individual. Then there began an inner persuading and warning difficult to withstand, and it was often only the last flicker of conscience which carried the day. But the more the voice which advised prudence increased its efforts and the clearer and persuasive its appeal, the stronger did resistance become, until finally the internal strife was over and the call of duty was triumphant. As early as the winter of 1915–16, I had gone through that inner struggle. The will had asserted its incontestable mastery. Whereas in the early days I went into the fight with a cheer and a laugh, I was now habitually calm and resolute, and that frame of mind endured. Fate might now put me to the final test without my nerves or reason giving way. The young, volunteer had become an old soldier. This same transformation took place throughout the whole Army. Constant fighting had aged and toughened and hardened it, and what could not withstand it, had perforce to give way. Only now was it possible to judge that Army. After two and three years of continuous fighting, after having been thrown into one battle after another, standing up stoutly against superior numbers and superior armament, suffering hunger and privation, the time had come when one could assess the value of that singular fighting force. For a thousand years to come nobody will dare to speak of heroism without recalling the German Army of the World War, and then from the dim past will emerge the immortal vision of those solid ranks of steel helmets that never flinched and never faltered, and as long as Germans live they will be proud to remember that these men were sons of their forefathers. I was then a soldier and did not wish to meddle in politics, the more so because the time was inopportune.
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I still believe that the most humble stableboy of those days served his country better than the best of, let us say, the ‘parliamentarians.’ My hatred for those chatterers was never greater than in those days when all decent men who had anything to say said it point-blank in the enemy’s face, or, failing this, kept their mouths shut and did their duty elsewhere. I despised those political fellows and if I had had my way I would have formed them into a Labour Battalion and given them the opportunity of babbling amongst themselves to their hearts’ content, without offence or harm to decent people. In those days I cared nothing for politics, but I could not help forming an opinion on certain phenomena which affected not only the whole nation, but also us soldiers in particular. There were two things which caused me the greatest anxiety at that time, and which I had come to regard as detrimental to our interests. Shortly after our first series of victories a certain section of the press already began to throw cold water, drip by drip, on the enthusiasm of the public. At first this was not, obvious to many people. It was done under the mask of good intentions and a spirit of anxious care. The public was told that big celebrations of victories were somewhat out of place and were not worthy of the dignity of a great nation. The fortitude and valour of German soldiers were accepted facts which did not necessarily call for outbursts of rejoicing. Furthermore, it was asked, what would foreign opinion have to say about these manifestations? Would not foreign opinion react more favourably to a quiet and sober form of celebration rather than to all this wild jubilation? Surely the time had come—so the press declared—for us Germans to remember that this war was not of our seeking and that hence there need be no feeling of shame in declaring our willingness to do our share towards effecting an understanding among the nations. For this reason it would not be wise to sully the radiant deeds of our Army with unbecoming jubilation, for the rest of the world would not understand this. Furthermore, nothing is more appreciated than the modesty with which a true hero quietly and unassumingly carries on and forgets.
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Such was the gist of their warning. Instead of catching these fellows by their long ears, dragging them to some ditch and looping a cord around their necks, so that the victorious enthusiasm of the nation should no longer offend their aesthetic sensibilities, a general press campaign was now allowed to go on against what was called ‘unbecoming’ and ‘undignified’ forms of victorious celebration. No one seemed to have the faintest idea that when public enthusiasm is once damped, nothing can kindle it again when the necessity arises. This enthusiasm is an intoxication and must be kept up in that form. Without the support of this enthusiastic spirit, how would it be possible to endure in a struggle which, according to human standards, made overwhelming demands, on the spiritual stamina of the nation? I was only too well acquainted with the psychology of the broad masses, not to know, that in such cases a magnanimous ‘aestheticism’ cannot fan the fire which is needed to keep the iron hot.. In my eyes it was even a mistake not to have tried to raise the pitch of public enthusiasm still higher. Therefore, I could not at all understand why the contrary policy was adopted, that is to say, the policy of damping the public spirit. Another thing which irritated me was the manner in which Marxism was regarded and accepted. I thought that all this proved how little they knew about the Marxist plague. It was believed in all seriousness that the abolition of party distinctions during the War had made Marxism a mild and-moderate thing. Here there was no question of party, but of a doctrine which was being expounded for the express purpose of leading humanity to its destruction. The purpose of this doctrine was not understood, because nothing was said about that side of the question in our Jew-ridden universities, and because our supercilious bureaucratic officials did not think it worth while to read upon a subject which had not been prescribed in their university course. This mighty revolutionary trend was simply ignored by those ‘intellectuals’ who did not deign to give it their attention. That is why State enterprise nearly always lags behind private enterprise. Of these gentry one can truly say that their maxim is: What we don’t know won’t bother us.
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In the August of 1914 every German worker was looked upon as a Marxist. That was a gross error. When that fateful day dawned, the German worker shook off the poisonous clutches of that plague; otherwise he would not have been so willing and ready to fight. Yet people were stupid enough to imagine that Marxism had now become ‘national’ another apt illustration of the fact that those in authority had never taken the trouble to study the real tenor of the Marxist teaching. If they had done so, such foolish errors would not have been committed. Marxism, whose final objective was, is, and will continue to be, the destruction of all non-Jewish national States, had to witness in those days of July 1914 how the German working-classes, which it had been ensnaring, were aroused by the national spirit and rapidly ranged themselves on the side of the Fatherland. Within a few days the deceptive smoke-screen of that infamous national betrayal had vanished into thin air and the Jewish bosses suddenly found themselves alone and deserted. It was as if not a vestige had been left of that folly and madness with which the masses of the German people had been inoculated for sixty years. That was indeed an evil day for the betrayers of German Labour. The moment, however, that the leaders realised the danger which threatened them they pulled the magic cap of deceit over their ears and, without being identified, pretended to participate in the national reawakening. The time seemed to have arrived for proceeding against the whole Jewish gang of public pests. Then it was that action should have been taken regardless of any consequent whining or protestation. At one stroke, in the August of 1914, all the empty nonsense about international solidarity was knocked out of the heads of the German working classes. A few weeks later, instead of this stupid talk sounding in their ears, they heard the noise of American-manufactured shrapnel bursting above the heads of the marching columns, as a symbol of international comradeship. Now that the German worker had rediscovered the road back to his nation, it ought to have been the duty of any government, which had the welfare of the people at heart, to take this opportunity of mercilessly rooting out everything that was opposed to the national spirit.
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While the flower of the nation’s manhood was dying at the front, those at home could, at least, have exterminated this vermin. But, instead of doing so, His Majesty the Kaiser held out his hand to these hoary criminals, thus assuring them of his protection and allowing them to regain their mental composure. Thus the viper could begin its work again. This time, certainly, more carefully than before, but all the more destructively. While honest people dreamt of reconciliation, these perjured criminals were making preparations for a revolution. Naturally, I was distressed at the half-measures which were adopted at that time, but I never thought it possible that the final consequences could have been so disastrous. What should have been done then? The ringleaders should have been thrown into gaol and tried, thus ridding the nation of them. Uncompromising military measures should have been adopted to root out the evil. Parties should have been abolished and the Reichstag brought to its senses at the point of the bayonet, if necessary. It would have been still better if the Reichstag had been dissolved immediately. If the Republic to-day dissolves parties when it wants to, there was in those days even more justification for applying such a measure, seeing; that the very existence of the nation was at stake. Of course this suggestion would give rise to the question, Is it possible to eradicate ideas by force of arms? Can a Weltanschauung be attacked by means of physical force? At that time, I turned these questions over and over in my mind. By studying analogous cases, exemplified in history, particularly those which had arisen from religious circumstances, I came to the following fundamental conclusion. Ideals and ideologies, as well as movements grounded on a definite spiritual foundation, whether true or false, can never be broken by the use of force after a certain stage, except on one condition, namely, that this use of force is wielded in the service of a new ideal or Weltanschauung which burns with a new flame.
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The application of force alone, without moral support based on a spiritual concept, can never bring about the destruction of an ideal or arrest the propagation of it, unless one is ready and able ruthlessly to exterminate to a man the last upholders of that ideal, and also to wipe out any tradition which it may tend to leave behind. Now, in the majority of cases, the result of such a course has been to exclude such a State, either temporarily or forever, from the circle of States that are of political significance, but experience has also shown that such a sanguinary method of extirpation affects the better section of the population under the persecuting power. As a matter of fact, every persecution, which has no spiritual motives to support it, is morally unjust and raises opposition among the best elements of the population, so much so, that these are driven more and more to champion the ideas that are unjustly persecuted. With many individuals this arises from the sheer spirit of opposition to every attempt at suppressing spiritual things by brute force. In this way, the number of convinced adherents of the persecuted doctrine increases as the persecution progresses. Hence, the total destruction of a new doctrine can be accomplished only by a vast plan of extermination; but this, in the final analysis, means the loss of some of the best blood in a nation or State, and that blood is subsequently avenged, because such an internal and total clean-up brings about the collapse of the nation’s strength. Such a procedure is always condemned to futility from the very start, if the attacked doctrine should happen to have spread beyond a small circle. That is why, in this case, as with all other growths, the doctrine can be exterminated only in its earliest stages. As time goes on its powers of resistance increase, until at the approach of age it gives way to younger elements, but under another form and from other motives. The fact remains that nearly all attempts to exterminate a doctrine, without having some spiritual basis of attack against it, and also to wipe out all the organisations it has created, have led in many cases to the very opposite being achieved, and that for the following reasons. When sheer force is used to combat the spread of a doctrine, then that force must be employed systematically and persistently.
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This means that the chances of success in the suppression of a doctrine lie only in the persistent and uniform application of the methods chosen. The moment hesitation is shown, and periods of tolerance alternate with the application of force, the doctrine against which these measures are directed will not only recover strength, but every successive persecution will bring to its support new adherents who have been shocked by the oppressive methods employed. The old adherents will become more embittered and their allegiance will thereby be strengthened. Therefore, when force is employed, success is dependent on the consistent manner in which it is used. This persistence, however, is nothing less than the product of definite spiritual convictions. Every form of force that is not supported by a, spiritual backing will always tie indecisive and uncertain. Such a force lacks the stability that can be found only in a Weltanschauung which has devoted champions. Such a force is the expression of the energy and ruthless determination of the individual temporarily in power, and, therefore, it is dependent on the change of persons in whose hands it is employed and on their characters and capacities. But there is something else to be said. Every Weltanschauung, whether religious or political (and it is sometimes difficult to say where the one ends and the other begins) fights not so much for the negative destruction of the opposing ideology, as for the positive realisation of its own ideology. Thus its struggle consists in attack rather than in defence. It has the advantage of knowing where its objective lies, as this objective represents the realisation of its own ideals. Inversely, it is difficult to say, when the negative aim for the destruction of a hostile doctrine is reached and secured. For this reason alone a Weltanschauung which is of an aggressive character is more definite in plan and more powerful and decisive in action than a Weltanschauung which takes up a merely defensive attitude. If force be used to combat a spiritual power, that force remains a defensive measure only so long as the wielders of it are not the champions and apostles of a new spiritual doctrine. Summing up, we arrive at the conclusion that every attempt to combat a Weltanschauung by means of force will turn out futile in the end, if the struggle fails to take the form of an offensive for the establishment of an entirely new spiritual order of things.
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It is only in the struggle between two Weltanschauungen that physical force, consistently and ruthlessly applied, will eventually turn the scales in its own favour. It was in this that the fight against Marxism had hitherto failed. This was also the reason why Bismarck’s socialist legislation failed, and was bound to fail in the long run, despite everything. It lacked the basis of a new Weltanschauung for whose development and extension the struggle might have been taken up. To say that the serving up of drivel about a so-called ‘State authority’ or ‘law and order’ was an adequate foundation for the spiritual driving force in a life-and-death struggle, is only what one would expect to hear from the wiseacres in high official positions. It was because there were no adequate spiritual motives behind this offensive that Bismarck was compelled to hand over the administration of his socialist legislative measures to the judgment and approval of those circles which were themselves the product of the Marxist teaching. Thus, when the Iron Chancellor surrendered the fate of his struggle against Marxism to the goodwill of the bourgeois Democracy, he was leaving the goat to take care of the garden. But this was only the logical result of failure to find a fundamentally new Weltanschauung which was diametrically opposed to Marxism and inspired by an ardent determination to sweep all before it. Thus the result of the Bismarckian campaign was a bitter disappointment. Were conditions different during the World War, or at the beginning of it? Unfortunately, they were not. The more I then pondered over the necessity for a change in the attitude of the executive government towards Social Democracy, as the incorporation of contemporary Marxism, the more I realised the want of a practical substitute for this doctrine. Supposing Social Democracy were overthrown, what had one to offer the masses in its stead? Not a single movement existed which promised any success in attracting vast numbers of workers, who would be now more or less without leaders, and in holding these workers in its spell.
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It is nonsensical to imagine that the international fanatic who has just severed his connection with a class party would forthwith join a bourgeois party or, in other words, another class organisation, for, however unsatisfactory these various organisations may appear to be, it cannot be denied that bourgeois politicians look on the distinction between classes as a very important factor in social life, provided, it does not turn out politically disadvantageous to them. If they deny this fact, they show themselves not only impudent but also mendacious. Generally speaking, one should guard against considering the broad masses more stupid than they really are. In political matters it frequently happens that feeling is a better judge than intellect. The opinion that the stupid international attitude of the masses provides proof of the unreliability of this feeling, can be immediately and definitely refuted by the simple fact that pacifist Democracy is no less fatuous, though it draws its supporters almost exclusively from bourgeois circles. As long as millions of citizens daily swallow what the Social Democratic press tells them, it will becomes these gentlemen to joke at the expense of the ‘Comrades,’ for, in the long run, they all swallow the same hash, even though it be dished up with different spices. In both cases the cook is one and the same—the Jew. One should be careful about contradicting established facts. It is an undeniable fact that the class question has nothing to do with questions concerning ideals, though that dope is administered at election time. Class arrogance among a large section of our people, as well as a prevailing tendency to look down on the manual labourer, are obvious facts and not the fancies of some day-dreamer. Nevertheless, it only illustrates the mentality of our so-called intellectual circles that they have not yet grasped the fact that circumstances, which are incapable of preventing the growth of such a plague as Marxism, are certainly not capable of restoring what has been lost. The ‘bourgeois’ parties (as they choose to call themselves) will never again be able to win over and hold the proletarian masses in their train. That is because two worlds are opposed to one another here, in part, naturally, and in part, artificially, divided.
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Only one relationship is possible between these two camps, namely, open enmity. But in such a fight the younger will come off victorious, and that is Marxism. In 1914 a fight against Social Democracy was indeed quite conceivable, but the lack of any practical substitute made it doubtful how long the fight could be kept up. In this respect there was a gaping void. Long before the war I was of the same opinion, and that was the reason why I could not decide to join any of the parties then existing. During the World War my conviction was still further confirmed by the manifest impossibility of fighting Social Democracy in anything like a thorough way, because for that purpose there should have been a movement that was something more than a mere ‘parliamentary’ party, and there was none such. I frequently discussed that want with my intimate comrades, and it was then, that I first conceived the idea of taking up political work later on. As I have often assured my friends, it was just this that induced me, after the war to become active as a public speaker, in addition to my professional work, and I am sure that this decision was arrived at after much earnest thought.
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