And, writing these words, expressing this most individualistic, democratic cry of warning, seeing so clearly what the Nazis were preparing (as far back as 1931) —was the Nazi Hans Schlemm.
One of the surprises of the National Socialist Revolution was the speed with which signs and names were altered in 1933, when it was possible to call anything black that, a week ago, had been painted white. “Save the family!” the Nazis had been shouting. “Save religion!” They knew they would have to destroy both. And they came into power, disguised as saviors, and took hold of the German family and religion, hoping to be undetected while they did away with both.
At first, it went smoothly. Nobody was even suspicious in the beginning.
The German people are naturally pious, church-going, giving great importance to family life. They know today that since Hitler came in, something has gone wrong with their churches and families. Ministers were arrested by the hundreds; more peaceful means were used against the home. The word gemütlich (untranslatable, and coming into English for its flavor) can’t be applied very well to today’s German. Gemütlichkeit flourishes in the warmth of the family; and the family is near dissolution.
Today every member of the nation — man, woman, and child — must belong to at least one Nazi organization: to the Party, to a Fachschaft (professional union), a Women’s or Mothers’ Bund (union), the Hitler Youth, the Jungvolk (young people), or to the Bund Deutscher Mädel (League of German Girls). These take all the time left after one’s profession, housework, or school. Even without a deeper reason, it would be impossible for anyone to devote himself to family problems, just for lack of time.
There is a story told in Germany now: the head of a family comes home; no one is in, but there is a note on the library table which says: “Am at a meeting of the National Socialist Women’s Union. Will be home late. — Mother.” So he scribbles an answer and leaves it beside the other: “Going to a Party meeting. Will be back late. — Father.” The next in is the son, who leaves a note: “Night practice. Won’t be home till morning. — Fritz.” Hilda, the daughter, is last, and she writes: “Must go to a meeting of the Bund of German Girls. —Hilda.”
At about two in the morning, the family gets home, to a bare apartment from which everything movable has been stolen; but there is a fifth note on the table: “We thank our Führer. Heil Hitler! — The Gang.”
The break-up of the family is no by-product of the Nazi dictatorship, but part of the job which the regime had to do if it meant to reach its aim — the conquest of the world.
If the world is to go to the Nazis (for no one else, in Hitler’s eyes, is German), the German people must first belong to them. And, for that to be true, they can’t belong to anyone else — neither God, nor their families, nor themselves.
To begin with, the time they used to give to their families was taken from the Germans and placed at the disposal of the State. But this alone could not have destroyed the foundation of German family life. More subtle measures were necessary to touch the spirit. Destruction began only when, within the family itself, mutual suspicion grew great. It was not until father became suspicious of mother, mother of daughter, daughter of son, and son of father, that the family was really endangered. From the moment when no one dared speak, because every word might be reported, every gesture misunderstood and denounced, the family lost its meaning. Life within it became senseless.