In Germany, the anniversary of the end of the Second World War was quite different this year than usual. Since Russia invaded Ukraine, the entire post-war consensus in Berlin has unravelled. Long-established policies and cherished beliefs have dissolved in the new reality: brutal war has returned to Europe. On Sunday, 8 May, this entire confusion was clearly laid bare for the world to see.
Usually grimly subdued (as is fitting for such a day), this year's commemoration events turned strained and dramatic. It began with the Berlin mayor banning Russian flags at war memorials. Then the city leadership also banned Ukrainian flags: after all, they reasoned, violent pro-Russian activists might try to tear them down. Berlin police were filmed confiscating a huge Ukrainian flag, and this footage was viewed millions of times on social media.
Olaf Scholz did not visit Moscow on Victory Day, as other German chancellors have often done. But he did not visit Kyiv either, even though Volodymyr Zelensky had invited him. That evening, German sociologist Harald Welzer debated with the Ukrainian ambassador on a television talk show. The ambassador, as Welzer explained to him, did not understand that there is a possibility that the 45% of Germans who oppose the supply of heavy weapons to Ukraine might have memories of military conflict stored in their families. They simply wanted to achieve a ceasefire through negotiations. Would arms shipments not just prolong Ukraine's agony? The German intellectual used memories of the Second World War as an argument in favour of a truce with a dictator. Could anyone have predicted such a thing in 1945?
The new reality has proven unpleasant for Germany. Russian aggression has revealed the worst character traits in some Germans. The fervent opposition to arms shipments to Ukraine is akin to the so-called Querdenker1 movement, which marched on the streets hysterically and unproductively during the pandemic. It exists across the entire political spectrum and in almost all segments of society – church leaders, artists, intellectuals, Putin fans from the far right, old-school peaceniks2, trade union activists and a large number of social democrats. They are all united by a particularly German egocentric narrow-mindedness, the best term for which is “lumpenpacifism”.
This crowd is not troubled by the fact that Germany's policy of “peace through trade” over the last few decades has failed. Shortly after the war began, Chancellor Olaf Scholz announced a “new era” in which Germany’s defence budget would rise to a level commensurate with the size of the country. But his path to providing ever-greater military assistance to Ukraine leads through a minefield of the German nation’s unhidden concerns – starting with the chilling prospects of Russia closing gas pipelines, continuing with anxiety about nuclear weapons, and ending with good old-fashioned distaste for supporting hostilities, especially anywhere other than Eastern Europe, as if Wehrmacht divisions were still operating there.
This is not a fringe movement limited to sandal-wearing Easter peace marchers. On 29 April, a group of German intellectuals and artists came out against sending weapons: they published an open letter to Scholz in the magazine EMMA, edited by the veteran of the German feminist movement Alice Schwarzer. “Supplying heavy weapons in large quantities could make Germany a warring party. A Russian counter-attack could trigger NATO’s collective defence clause and thus create a direct threat of a world war.” An online petition in support of this statement has been signed 225,000 times. Whether Scholz understood it or not, in his initial reluctance to supply heavy weapons to Ukraine, he was united with those of this mindset.
Many of the surnames found on the list are very prominent. However, the participation of these academically titled individuals reveals a truth about many German public intellectuals: there is a real ivory tower arrogance coming from them. Too many of them have lost touch with reality. They do not acknowledge the enormous responsibility that rests on Germany in this war: for the last two decades, Europe's largest economy has prioritised cosy relations with Putin over the security needs of Ukraine, which has long been considered a buffer zone between Russia and Western Europe.
One of the signatories of the letter is actor Lars Eidinger, famous for his portrayal of Hamlet. Dissatisfied with the backlash, he wrote on Instagram (in English): “At the age of eighteen, I refused to serve with a weapon in my hand in front of the German army, the so-called Bundeswehr commission. The main question I had to answer was this: if someone I loved was threatened with a weapon and I had the chance to kill the attacker, what would I do? My answer was: I would not shoot, so as not to escalate the spiral of aggression. I still believe in this ideal.” In short, “you cannot wash blood with blood.” One might hope that a man who knows Shakespeare so well would have understood something about human nature. But no, at 46, Eidinger has not progressed much compared to that teenager who refused to serve in the army because of his beliefs.
He belongs to one of the last age groups subject to compulsory military service before it was abolished in 2011. In the 90s, about 50% of young men refused it, citing moral considerations, and chose the so-called Zivildienst (civilian or alternative service) instead. This is, of course, nothing bad, but this sentiment has persisted to this day, especially in West Germans, whose personality has been shaped by the status of peacetime rights and the conviction of “never again.” No matter how pathological it is to hold on to such views now, many are still of the same conviction as Eidinger.
After German reunification in 1990, Germans in the western and eastern parts of the country consciously or subconsciously adopted Francis Fukuyama’s thesis on the “end of history.” The perpetual peace once imagined by Immanuel Kant had now become a matter of course. In a bright capitalist future, cleansed of the ideological extremes of the 20th century, a united Germany, safely enveloped by the European Union, kindly broadcast its soft-power message of trade ties, democracy, and Eurovision across the entire continent. International law would ensure that countries lived in peace. Conquest and savagery were things of the past.
The entire West fell into this way of thinking, but Germans more than any other nation. It allowed them to finally escape the guilt of the Second World War. It was assumed that geopolitical power struggles had vanished along with the Berlin Wall. Lucrative trade deals would turn Putin into a sweet euro-pussycat! But that era is over: it died when Russian paratroopers rained down on Hostomel airport in February. However, old-school peaceniks – like the Lutheran bishop who stated that it is fine for Germans to remain “helpless observers” in this conflict – are still audible in the public space. It is easy to give away other nations’ countries, isn’t it?
On 22 April, a journalist asked Scholz why he was hesitating with the supply of heavy weapons. The Chancellor summarised: “I am doing everything to prevent an escalation that leads to a third world war. A nuclear war must not happen.” Many Germans agreed. On the same day, in an ARD poll, 40% of Germans supported refraining from active involvement so as not to provoke Russia.
But then, at the 1 May trade union rally in Düsseldorf, Scholz turned out to have changed his mind. He gave an uncharacteristically passionate speech, expressing an unprecedented resolve: “We will support Ukraine so that it can defend itself. I respect your pacifism, but it must certainly seem cynical to a Ukrainian citizen if they are told that they must defend themselves against Putin’s aggression without weapons.” Many listeners booed in disapproval. Other speakers suggested that money would be better invested in German prosperity.
Germany’s NATO allies were baffled. A few days later, Scholz changed course and announced that approximately 50 Gepard self-propelled anti-aircraft guns would be sent to Ukraine. These units, which were taken out of active service, are 40 years old, and the only ammunition that can be found for them must be imported from Brazil, but it is better than nothing. The cart has started moving. In his speech on the anniversary of the end of the Second World War, when no one booed him, Scholz promised to send even more heavy weapons to Ukraine. If there is anything that can really be learned from German history, he expressed it that Sunday: “No to war. No to genocide. No to tyranny.” Tanks and armoured personnel carriers will be delivered to Kyiv.
However, intellectual leaders are taking a different path. On the same day the open letter was published in the magazine EMMA, 92-year-old philosopher Jürgen Habermas spoke out in favour of a slow, thoughtful approach to the crisis. Just as Scholz had previously admitted, Habermas was also more afraid of a potential nuclear war than of the actual bloodshed in Ukraine. As American historian Timothy Snyder wrote on Twitter in late April: “For thirty years, Germans lectured Ukrainians on what fascism is. When fascism actually arrived, Germans funded it, while Ukrainians died fighting against it.”
The most determined support for Ukraine so far has not been provided by German intellectuals or the Chancellor’s office. Surprisingly, the German Greens, who partially grew out of the pacifist movement, have become the biggest “hawks.” For years, they have drawn attention to Germany’s potentially lethal dependence on Russian fossil fuels. Party leaders, Economy Minister Robert Habeck and Foreign Minister Annalena Baerbock, have been particularly clear about Germany’s duty to provide sufficient assistance to Ukraine in its fight against the Russian invaders. Baerbock, while visiting Kyiv, announced that Germany’s goal is to reduce imports of Russian energy resources to zero, and added that “this will remain so forever.”
That is the new reality. Over the next 10 years, Germany will become the most significant military power in Europe. It will sever its energy ties with Russia. And in the coming months, it will supply Ukraine with powerful weapons. Whether the German pacifist lobby will be able to stomach this and not try to stop it – that is not so certain.
unherd.com, 12 May 2022
1. Literally – “cross-thinkers” (translator’s note)
2. The author uses the term “peaceniks”, used for members of anti-war movements during the Cold War in the US and elsewhere in the West (translator’s note)
Article first published in the June 2022 issue of Rīgas Laiks magazine