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Genocide and its Relevance Today (Part I) – The Ongoing Relevance of Holocaust Education in German Migration Society: Why this Topic at all?

May 6, 2020 by Elisabeth Beck

by Elisabeth Beck

A passage through the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe in Berlin (Image credit: Flickr/Jerzy Durczak)

The debate on migration is an emotionally charged one, particularly when that migration was forced. The same also applies to the discourse surrounding the culture of remembrance in Germany. The weight of such a discussion is further exacerbated when migration and memory are simultaneously present. Politicians and educators get involved in the discussion when it comes to the aims that Holocaust education ought to pursue in an immigration country, asking whether the participation of immigration and their prior life stories impact the objectives of that education in any meaningful way. People from different countries are socialised with various narratives about the Holocaust and, therefore, remember it differently – or not at all. Consequently, there is also a debate about the obligation for immigrants to learn about the ‘German’ past and to remember it in an assumed and specifically ‘German’ way. These various expectations from different players have created challenges for Holocaust education and, hence, the question arises as to how educational approaches in this field ought to look like in a society characterised by migration [1].

In 2017, of the 82.6 million people living in Germany, 19.3 million of them were seen or marked as ‘immigrants’ or had foreign backgrounds. In this light, Germany is a highly diverse country[2]. However, there are still people who reject this and seek to portray German society as a homogenous entity. Such a nation-state-oriented production of an ‘us’ – as a counterpart to an ‘other’, a ‘them’ – negates plurality which has been present even prior to the refugee crisis of 2015-2016. Global history is history of migration, and yet, this understanding is conflictual because discussing migration and forced migration remains highly complex and politically divided. The focus in social, scientific, and media debates on migration and integration is mostly on the linguistic and vocational training of immigrants and refugees. Because of this, little is known on how migration influences the way we remember, or on how education about the German past deals with processes of pluralisation. Even more so, it remains uncertain to what extent there exists a necessity of a ‘different’ or a rather more ‘contemporary’ method of remembrance.

When it comes to the Holocaust, there is a specific way of remembering the past in German society. In the past, the country developed and upheld a strongly institutionalised remembrance mechanism. This fulfills both political and social functions, from state integration, the identification with the political system, and consensus building to the creation of mass loyalty and stability assurance[3]. For this reason, history and its remembrance forms ‘our’ identity and the way we see ‘our’ society and ‘ourselves’, in stark contrast to the ‘the others’. Still, the construction of an ‘us’ refers to the rigid entity of nation and, in many cases, neglects the heterogeneity in society that results from migratory processes. In so doing, one of the biggest contemporary challenges is the inclusion of different perspectives in the education of history and the avoidance of the production of an ‘other’ (symbolised by such terms as ‘here’ and ‘there’ or ‘us’ and ‘them’). In short, Holocaust remembrance and Holocaust education in Germany needs to be open to new spheres and develop new forms of remembering and training in order to enable all people living in Germany to participate and conceptualise the country’s history.

Different communities and diverse groups remember ‘their’ past in various ways. Since remembrance is such a powerful resource, conflicts can emerge as a result of its different conceptualisation, e.g. in the form of victim hierarchies or ‘competitions’. In addition to the question of what plural remembrance can look like, the question of the legitimacy of remembering in general is also not uncommon in Germany. However, it is important to cope with fundamental societal changes and, therefore, with upcoming changes in Holocaust education and equally in genocide education. Discussing the reason why we ought to still remember at all and why we should think and educate about cruel pasts cannot be a solution.

Since the Holocaust is an event in history that shook the foundations of civilisation, Germany has a responsibility in remembering and not having to repeat the tragedies of the past[4]. This responsibility, however, arises not only from ‘being German’ or living in Germany. As human beings and critical individuals we all have the responsibility to prevent the occurrence of atrocities, namely any exclusion, discrimination, genocide, or ethnic cleansing in the world. This responsibility cannot be delegated to a national or state level. It must just as well be located within the individual. Recognising and developing this accountability is widely regarded as a challenge for education.

As such, education is an essential tool in the prevention of genocide by promoting knowledge about past violence. It does so by studying the causes, circumstances, dynamics, and consequences of such violent episodes in history; as well as developing skills, values, and attitudes in order to prevent group-targeted violence and genocide. Consequently, education needs to respond to changes in society by taking the diversity of people’s backgrounds and experiences with discrimination, exclusion, and the violation of human rights (often related to processes of migration– into account. This is particularly important in cases of forced migration caused by war and violent conflict, both underlining the necessity and urgency to address crimes against humanity in education.

Still, by including different views and perspectives of Holocaust education participants, challenges may occur. Educators need to face problems like anti-Semitism and discrimination with increasing frequency. The number of people harbouring anti-Semitic attitudes – such as Holocaust denial, is widespread, not only in the German right-wing extremist scene[5] but also in the region of the Middle East and North Africa where more than fifty per cent of refugees who fled to Germany in 2017 came from. Holocaust education cannot immunise against anti-Semitism but it can raise awareness and sensitise individuals to the different and in many cases traditional images of the enemy, and their different functions in respective societies. In so doing, Holocaust education in Germany can contribute to an increasing awareness of prejudices and stereotypes without demonising and putting refugees and migrants marked as ‘the others’ under general anti-Semitism.

Furthermore, research on this topic is mostly conducted in secondary school and training that usually takes place in school and through extracurricular youth education. Adults are rarely recipients of Holocaust education. In 2017, thirty-three per cent of the non-German population was at the age between 18 and 35 years. Therefore, it can be assumed that – depending on the latest migration movements in Germany – the majority of this community has not had access to the German educational system. Access to formal training is furthermore often limited and not available to every immigrant.

Consequently, immigrants and refugees living in Germany do not necessarily come in contact with Holocaust education in any formal way. They may not know about the meaning of the highly institutionalised Holocaust remembrance which is a key pillar in the formation of a presumed ‘German’ identity. This laguna presents a challenge to adult education because participants carry their own narratives and also victim discourses with them. These past experiences have a major impact on the education itself. Educators have to make sure that different narratives and family connections to the Holocaust are thematised. At the same time, they have to moderate and contextualise the different discourses in order to avoid a marginalisation or trivialisation of the Holocaust. Only a collaborative debate on the past – or rather different pasts – can help to highlight the relevance of this topic for German society and lead to a better understanding of the reason why it is important to remember – not only for German nationals but for every person living in Germany.

Equally important for developing a contemporary Holocaust education and genocide education for adults is the inclusion of various experiences of migration, discrimination, exclusion, and even the violation of human rights. The conceptualisation of a ‘Holocaust Education and Beyond’ that has an emancipatory effect and highlights the values of democracy and human rights is essential. Holocaust education has the aim of strengthening people into taking responsibility for their own actions in the present and future. Beyond that, Holocaust education as one of genocide education can provide knowledge and an ethical imperative for present and future actions by people. It can build bridges into the world in order to carry these ideas further to ensure a ‘Never Again!’[6] pertaining to any violation of human rights. Genocide being one of them.


[1] A migration society is characterized by the assumption that migration is a societal normality and that a society is influenced and shaped by migration processes. Therefore, every society is a migration society. Old and new affinities are negotiated conflictually. Contradictions of presumed clearly defined concepts of belonging, space and culture are identified, shown and deconstructed. However, set boundaries and limits are problematised by migration.

[2] With the term ‘diversity’ in this blog post I only refer to different ethnic backgrounds and diversity.

[3] Dietmar Schiller, “Politische Gedenktage in Deutschland. Zum Verhältnis von öffentlicher Erinnerung und politischer Kultur” in Aus Politik und Zeitgeschichte, 1993, B25/93, p. 32-39

[4] The responsibility for remembering results from the certainty that atrocities in history mostly started with latent terms of exclusion and discrimination. This is what has to be prevented by remembering the past since history does not repeat exactly the same way it happened (see for example Jörn Leonhard, Die Büchse der Pandora. Geschichte des Ersten Weltkriegs)

[5] The German Federal Ministry of the Interior indicates a number of 25.000 people for whom there are indications of a right-wing extremist endeavour.

[6] Theodor Adorno states in his essay “Education After Auschwitz”: “The premier demand upon all education is that Auschwitz not happen again. […] Every debate about the ideals of education is trivial and inconsequential compared to this single ideal: never again Auschwitz.” (emphasis added by the author)


Elisabeth Beck is a research associate at the Center for Flight and Migration and a PhD student in educational science at the Department of Adult Education and Extra-Curricular Education, both at the Catholic University of Eichstätt-Ingolstadt. Her research interests include education in the context of heterogeneity, migration pedagogy, Holocaust education, human rights education, and civic studies. Furthermore, she is a lecturer at the University of Augsburg. During her PhD training, she also served as a research associate at the University of Augsburg, where she acquired her Master’s Degree. Her current research project focuses on new perspectives in Holocaust education in the German migration society.

Filed Under: Blog Article, Feature Tagged With: Berlin, education, Elisabeth Beck, Genocide, Hitler, Holocaust, Jewish, Nazi, Nazi-Germany, Shoah

Strife Series on Genocide and its Relevance Today – Introduction

May 2, 2020 by Anna Plunkett

by Anna Plunkett

Arbeit macht frei, or work sets you free, the phrase appearing to those entering the Auschwitz concentration camp (Image credit: Auschwitz-Birkenau Museum)

This year, 27 January marked the seventy-fifth anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz-Birkenau, perhaps the most iconic symbol of the Holocaust. The camp was liberated by Ukrainian forces of the Soviet Union on the 27 January 1945. By the time these forces arrived much of the camp had been dismantled by the Nazi guards but many of its prisoners were too ill and too weak to leave the site of their illegal detainment and planned extermination. To many the liberation of this large and well-known concentration camp marked the end of the Holocaust, one of the darkest episodes of modern history. Nevertheless, the crime of genocide is far from one resigned only to the history books, as this series will show, it remains relevant to our analysis of the world today.

The Holocaust, saw the extermination of over six million Jews between 1933 and 1945 from across all parts of Europe. Whilst there is no denying the absolute destruction that decimated the Jewish community and other minority groups as part of ‘The Final Solution’ (1942-45), the crimes of the Holocaust do not stand alone. Genocide, the act of intentionally exterminating a population has occurred throughout history. The Genocide Convention, signed in 1951, was introduced after the Holocaust to try and protect populations from such acts of annihilation. However, with all its good intentions and international agreements, genocide remains a part of the reality of the contemporary era.

Historical cases of Genocide including the Armenian Genocide and the Genocide of the Indigenous Populations of the United States of America continue to impact their respective communities today. More contemporary cases include the 1994 Rwandan Genocide where violence escalated at such a dramatic rate the UN Peacekeeping forces were forced to evacuate. The aftermath of which forced the international community to reconsider their role and response to such atrocities within a globalised world.

This January, the International Court of Justice, a mechanism from within the United Nations, published its interim ruling on the case of Genocide within Myanmar. It found evidence to support the accusation of genocide put forward by The Gambia and has authorised a full investigation into the case. Genocide has become synonymous with the worst crimes humanity can face. In law, we have committed globally to protect populations from it. Yet, genocides continue to occur, and their effects are felt over the generations of affected populations. This series will highlight various cases of genocide, analysing the act itself and how the enacting of such crimes is still relevant today.

 

Publishing Schedule:

Part 1: Elisabeth Beck writes on the importance of Holocaust and Genocide Education within Germany and how this highly institutionalised form of learning requires adaptation to benefit Germany’s increasingly diverse population.

Part 2: Hannah Rose reflects on the 75 years of remembrance of the Holocaust, considering the importance of remembrance to the communities affected as well as younger generations, as a method of prevention, and as a reflection of crimes being committed against other minorities throughout the world.

Part 3: Karla Drpic will discuss the role of the International Criminal Tribunal for the Former Yugoslavia analysing both its successes and failures on the local and international level, before reflecting on what the future of reconciliation after genocide may look like for future generations.

Part 4: Mariana Boujikian questions the finality of the end of a genocide, analysing the transgenerational impact of genocidal acts on victimised groups through her research on the Armenian Genocide and its survivors in Brazil.

Part 5: Will focus on the failure of the UN mechanisms to respond to the ongoing genocide against the Rohingya, arguing that the statist system the UN employs has left it ineffective in engaging in the protection of persecuted populations.


Anna is a doctoral researcher at the Department of War Studies, King’s College London. She received her BA in Politics and Economics from the University of York, before receiving a scholarship to continue her studies at York with an MA in Post-War Recovery. She was the recipient of the Guido Galli Award for her MA dissertation. Her primary interests include conflict and democracy at the sub-national level, understanding how various political orders are impacted by transitions at the sub-national level. Anna’s main area of focus is Myanmar’s ethnic borderlands and ongoing conflicts in the region. She has previously worked as a human rights researcher focusing on military impunity and its impact on the community in Myanmar. 

 

Filed Under: Blog Article, Feature Tagged With: Anna Plunkett, Auschwitz, Birkenau, camp, concentration, concentration camp, Genocide, Holocaust, Konzentrationslager, Nazi

Fury: War up close and personal

January 21, 2015 by Strife Staff

By Alex Calvo:

FURY

Since the birth of cinema, war has been a perennial source of inspiration for films. However, the resulting genre is anything but uniform. Under the label “war film” one can find a wide spectrum of films, going from mere action filled with special effects (sometimes referred to as “war porn”) to pacifist pamphlets seeking to denounce the futility of a given conflict or of warfare in general. And there are many sub-categories in between, including historical films and biopics of famous generals. Within the historical film genre, one finds a similar range to that observable in military history scholarship, with some works covering a whole war or campaign, while others focus on some limited action or the experience of a small group of soldiers. Fury, which came out late last year and stars Brad Pitt, Shia LaBeouf, Logan Lerman, Michael Peña and Jon Bernthal, belongs to this latter category.

The viewer is told the setting is Germany, in the closing weeks of the Second World War, but other than that much of the action takes place in the narrow confines of a tank. When not inside the tank we see – at most – a road, a village, or a field, never more than that. This is a film with no generals, no large armies, and no big battles. Engagements feature no more than a few tanks and a handful of troops and other vehicles. This is war up close and personal, war in small scale, war centered on the individual and a small closely-knit group of fellow warriors bent on survival.While not the first war film to adopt that perspective, what stands out in Fury is the balance between the experience of the individuals in the small group and the wider conflict. This is no individualistic, self-centred tale of a soldier’s suffering, disconnected from the reasons for why a war is being fought. Nor is it a mechanistic depiction of a small unit simply following orders on their path to victory and glory. What we find instead, in line with the real-life experience of many combatants, is a group of soldiers determined to do their job, do it well, watch each other’s back, survive, and go home as soon as possible.

This does not mean that the wider political and moral background to the war is forgotten. On the contrary, there is no room for moral relativism in Fury, no attempt to portray the two sides as equal or even comparable, and no room for historical revisionism or the obsession of some media outlets with the misguided notion that the war was won by virtue of strength of numbers and superior firepower alone. As Fury makes clear, regardless of Allied superiority, victory came through myriad small actions and the sacrifice of ordinary troops.

Fury is a story where good fights evil, but is more nuanced than the standard good/bad war films. It avoids cartoon-like characterizations, and focuses on how the motivation to engage in battle comes more from frontline experience – the desire to protect your brothers-in-arms and the raw hatred of the enemy – than from any overarching ideological doctrines. Again, as many with actual combat experience will attest, in many conflicts newly-arrived soldiers will lack the necessary degree of hate towards the enemy to successfully engage them in the field of battle. This was the case even in WWII, a conflict marked by a clear ideological difference between the two sides. The film shows this, taking us through the painful but ultimately essential process through which the tank’s newest crew member comes to understand the rules of the game, not through theoretical lectures on the evils of Nazism, but through a combination of peer pressure, father-like mentoring, actual engagements, fear of death, and the ultimate realization that this is a very different world from the one back home.

Fury is also a story that examines in detail the tight bonds among men who live, eat, and fight together every day, knowing it could be their last. It is done, furthermore, in a realistic way, showing the viewer the different facets of an essential yet often difficult relationship between very different people. This is no group of flawless heroes, they are all different and they often clash, most notably when arguing about the language to be used inside the tank, and then again during the discussions about religion, and most tellingly in their encounter with a German family. These clashes contribute to the credibility of the film, making its characters believable.

The same nuanced approach is in evidence in the way that the film deals with relations between soldiers and civilians, on both sides, and between the crumbling Nazi regime and its population and troops. The suffering of refugees and of civilians caught up in the midst of combat is portrayed openly and in all its cruelty, without embellishment, in a matter-of-fact way, as an unavoidable aspect of war. The same realism is on display when soldiers and civilians meet, including the long lunch scene, one of the most intimate passages of the film.

Central to this very realistic portrayal of combat, and the true nature of war, is the film’s score. Deeply dark, yet full of grit and action when suitable, it succeeds in creating the necessary atmosphere for the viewer to fully absorb the main characters’ experience, and gain a glimpse of what the experience of combat is like. The film’s historical credentials are also supported by meticulous attention to detail when it comes to unif­orms and equipment. For example, we see the only remaining working Tiger tank, captured in Tunisia in 1943 and part of the collection of the Bovington Tank Museum. To ensure combat scenes were realistic, the help of four tank veterans was enlisted, among them 91-year old Bill Betts, a Sherman radio operator in the Essex Yeomanry and a D-day veteran, who was shot by a German sniper. While older films like Patton avoid the gory depiction of combat wounds, and Saving Private Ryan’s opening scene gives viewers a no-holds-barred look of a battlefield, Fury walks a careful path, showing the impact of war on combatants yet without distracting viewers from the film’s narrative.

Fury is many things. It is a tale of a small group of men brought together by war, and their ordeal to fight to live another day. It is the story of a newly arrived recruit and his rapid – albeit painful – integration into the group and his discovery of what war and fighting is about. The film is a reminder that WWII was, up to the last minute, a brutal struggle, where despite Allied material superiority there was always the need for close combat, with victory in battle often coming at a staggering cost. It is also an examination of the difficult moral choices one has to make on the battlefield. Fury is also an attack on moral relativism, making it clear who was on the right side of history, while showing us in detail how a green soldier came to understand it.

In a world which has not yet said goodbye to war, where it is often fashionable to commemorate wars without actually looking at combat, Fury is a necessary film. It reminds us that war is violent and painful but sometimes necessary, and that WWII was not won just because of material superiority, but because of the small groups of soldiers who fought to the last moment in unimaginable circumstances.


Alex Calvo is a student at Birmingham University’s MA in Second World War Studies program. He is the author of ‘The Second World War in Central Asia: Events, Identity, and Memory’, in S. Akyildiz and R. Carlson ed., Social and cultural Change in Central Asia: The Soviet Legacy (London: Routledge, 2013) and tweets at @Alex__Calvo. His work can be found here.

Filed Under: Film Review Tagged With: fury, Nazi, war, WWII

Why is everyone Hitler?

October 1, 2014 by Strife Staff

By Thomas Colley:

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Why do so many political leaders seem incapable of analogising undesirable behaviour to anyone other than Hitler and the Nazis? Conflict in Ukraine has seen the protagonists base their propaganda on demonising the other side as ‘Nazis’ and ‘fascists’. David Cameron recently compared the dilemmas of dealing with Putin with those of Neville Chamberlain dealing with Hitler.[i] Tony Abbott recently claimed that The Islamic State (IS/ISIS/ISIL) were akin to Nazis and Communists. It is almost surprising that the Ebola virus hasn’t been compared to Hitler.

The extensive use of the Hitler analogy has fuelled debate over the extent to which such analogies are accurate.[ii] Arguably however, a more important issue is how useful such analogies are, and what they say about political leaders that they continue to use them.

An analogy is a comparison between two things based on some sort of shared characteristic. In politics, this tends to involve a comparison between current events or actors and those of the past, in order to make current events more easily intelligible, or even prescribe future action. Similarity cannot and need not be absolute, since focusing on the similarities in analogies tends to obscure differences. In this way, Al Qaeda may be immeasurably different to Imperial Japan, but focusing on the idea of ‘surprise attack on America’ makes 9/11 akin to Pearl Harbour, the differences obscured. In the same way, Putin’s annexation of Crimea is akin to Hitler’s annexation of the Sudetenland, while obscuring the obvious strategic differences between their aims.

The first way such analogies are used might be to prescribe strategy. If one likens Putin to Hitler, collective memories of the Second World War support the idea that Putin should be challenged, as appeasement will only fuel Russian aggression. Multiple European leaders have used rhetoric to this effect, arguing that Europe faces an existential threat if Putin is not stopped. Admittedly, the analogy is not wholly unfounded. Putin’s conduct in Ukraine has some similarities to the Nazi leader. Both his actions and rhetoric used in annexing the Crimea did resemble Hitler’s annexation of the Sudetenland. But Putin is not Hitler, and it is disturbing to think that such a crude comparison might be used for strategy-making.

Thankfully, based on the West’s response, it is relatively obvious that they know Putin is not Hitler, and are not acting as if he is even if they are saying so. After all, if Putin were Hitler, and to use another analogy, the West’s economic sanctions might be the equivalent of freezing the accounts of Himmler, Heydrich and Goering. Would this deter Hitler, once Goebbels, Bormann and Speer were added to the list, and are the West even thinking this way? Clearly not. There is little that indicates that Putin’s grand designs are in any way equivalent to Hitler. Bismarck would be a better comparison for his grasp of realpolitik; Stalin is a far more apt comparison in terms of his desire to maintain influence in states bordering Russia. However, this search for the least distorting analogy is of limited strategic use; the situation with Ukraine is unique and must be understood on its own terms.

If the Hitler analogy is not being used to prescribe strategy, it is being used to legitimise strategy. This is achieved through the most elementary level of playground logic: that Hitler was a bully; Putin is a bully, and as every child learns in primary school, if no one stands up to bullies they keep on bullying. This legitimises Western foreign policy towards Russia since states can at least claim they are acting against the bully. Whether their actions are sufficient to deter the bully is doubtful; only time will tell. Certainly the West’s rhetoric about what should be done has been extensive. But when faced with the West’s rhetoric, Putin can draw again from a primary school lesson recounted in Britain, that ‘sticks and stones will break my bones but words will never hurt me.’

Aside from Putin, the Hitler analogy continues to be invoked based on another metaphor, that of Hitler as ‘evil’. This appears by far the most common use of the Hitler analogy in political discourse; that through instigating the Second World War and perpetrating the Holocaust, Hitler epitomises human evil. Analogising to Hitler is therefore a common use of hyperbole to undermine an opponent, be it in the debating hall or in international politics. In fact, so popular is the ‘Hitler as evil’ metaphor that using it to demonise one’s opponent seems to be one of the first acts of many leaders’ propaganda playbooks. Putin repeatedly compared Poroshenko’s government to the Nazis; the Ukrainians responded in turn. Accusation and counter-accusation flowed, and the West joined in in what increasingly resembled the sort of name-calling found on exactly the same primary school playground from which the bullying analogy is understood.

The analogy was even more crudely exemplified by Australian Prime Minister Tony Abbott’s claim that ISIS were comparable to the Nazis and the Communists based on the evil inherent in their provocatively public beheadings. Leaving aside the heterogeneity of global communism, the analogy seems only to function through the basic idea that ‘these people are evil, really, really bad, so we should stop them’. The ostensibly sagacious can then reinforce this with Burke’s dictum that ‘all that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing’, and action against the evil threat is justified. Faced with Burke’s eloquence, no one apparently notices that evil will presumably also flourish if ‘men do the wrong thing, or don’t do enough for long enough’. Still, this makes the Hitler analogy a simple tactic to secure public support – we must act, or evil (Hitlers) will win.

However, this basic tactic illuminates several troubling issues with our political leaders’ grasp of communication and their faith in their publics. First, if every state repeats the same analogy, then its persuasive effects are limited. If the aim of using Hitler is to evoke fear and stir collective memory, if both sides are constantly doing so, then what effect is it likely to have? Second, once strategy is shown to contradict the analogy, then the analogy is inevitably revealed as propaganda – as just another person playing the Hitler card, as if they can’t think of anything better to say.

So why does the Hitler analogy remain such a compelling rhetorical device for political leaders? The answer seems to be that those using it assume that such analogies will stir an emotional response from an irrational, volatile public that has limited knowledge of international affairs, but at least understands that ‘Hitler was an evil and a bully, and so evil bullies like Hitler should be stopped.’ This logic reflects the same assumption that it is enough to shout ‘terrorist threat’ to engender mass fear and secure extensive public support. There is some irony here. David Cameron’s statement that ISIS are ‘a greater and deeper threat to our security than we have known before’ appears currently to be a securitising move of immense hyperbole.[iii] Yet it is precisely the understanding of the existential threat posed by Hitler that highlights how unnecessarily hyperbolic Cameron’s claim appears.

This suggests that many political leaders continue to base their communication assumptions on those of almost a century ago, assuming like Lippman, Almond and Bernays that publics are emotional, volatile and ignorant masses.[iv] This ignores a vast body of research that has shown the public to be, if not highly knowledgeable, at least reasoning on matters of foreign policy.[v] Why, for example, did Abbott feel that it was necessary to compare ISIS with Hitler? Did he or his speechwriters assume that it was beyond the public to grasp the evil of blunt-knifed public beheadings without the need for lazy hyperbole and overused analogy?

In this way, the use of the Hitler analogy betrays the lack of faith political elites have in their publics. Scottish First Minister Alex Salmond’s comparison between the Scottish referendum and the post-apartheid elections in South Africa demonstrated a similar viewpoint. The analogy did support the otherwise persuasive narrative of oppressive Westminster rule over Scotland, but the comparison is tenuous at best, crass at worst.[vi] The only rational explanation for the choice of analogy is the assumption that the publics Salmond was trying to persuade are too ill-informed, or overwhelmed by nationalist fervour, that they would notice the difference between democratic Scotland and post-apartheid South Africa. The irony is that in using such crude analogies, politicians make themselves look as ill-informed as they assume their publics to be. This is probably not the case, but it contributes to the pervasive distrust between political elites and their publics.

I am of the view that if political leaders decide to use historical analogies, their choices should be carefully considered, grounded in a more optimistic perspective of the publics they are trying to persuade. Some might argue this is naïve, and that publics are largely ignorant of foreign policy matters and susceptible to crude analogies. However if one adopts this viewpoint, the tactic is still questionable, since governments would be better off trying to influence the active citizenry that are engaged in the political process. Surely these are the exact people that would expect more from their politicians than ‘everyone is Hitler’?

Perhaps the most telling indictment comes from one of the ‘rules of the internet’. Godwin’s law states that as online discussion grows longer, the probability of a comparison with Hitler or the Nazis increases.[vii] Interestingly, the person who first analogises to Hitler automatically loses the debate, for recourse to the Hitler analogy is to lack the ability to construct a more meaningful argument. Applied to political leaders, this would mean that the first person to be reduced to using a Hitler analogy loses the debate; the person who compares a peacetime democratic referendum to a people emerging from decades of racial oppression loses the debate; the leader who just lists ‘evil people we don’t like’ loses the debate.

As Hoggart wrote sceptically of the working classes, people may appear to have views on political matters, but they usually consist of

 

‘a bundle of largely unexamined and orally-transmitted tags, enshrining generalisations, prejudices
and half-truths, and elevated by epigrammatic phrasing into the status of maxims…. These are often contradictory of each other; but they are not thought about, not intellectually considered.’[viii]

 In their use of analogies, many political leaders don’t seem to be doing much better.

 

______________________

Thomas Colley is a PhD student in War Studies at King’s College London. His research interests include propaganda, strategic communication and public attitudes to the use of military force. You can follow Thomas on Twitter @ThomasColley.

 

NOTES

[i] http://www.theguardian.com/world/2014/sep/02/tony-abbott-says-extreme-force-needed-to-counter-isis-death-cult, 2 September 2014.

[ii] For reasons of brevity, ‘the Hitler analogy’ refers to analogies relating to Hitler and Nazism in general.

[iii] https://www.gov.uk/government/speeches/threat-level-from-international-terrorism-raised-pm-press-conference, 29 August 2014.

[iv] Almond, Gabriel A. The American People and Foreign Policy. New York: Praeger, 1950; Bernays, Edward L. Propaganda. Ig Publishing, 1928; Lippmann, Walter. Public Opinion. Transaction Publishers, 1946.

[v] Aldrich, John, Christopher Gelpi, Peter Feaver, Jason Reifler, and Kristin Thompson Sharp. “Foreign Policy and the Electoral Connection.” Annual Review of Political Science, 9 (2006): 477–502; Popkin, Samuel L. The Reasoning Voter: Communication and Persuasion in Presidential Campaigns. University of Chicago Press, 1994.

Page, Benjamin, and Robert Shapiro. The Rational Public: Fifty Years of Trends in Americans’ Policy Preferences. University of Chicago Press, 2010.

[vi] It is possibly that Salmond’s analogy may have been more thoughtless than calculating. However, he probably knew that he had been described as the ‘paler Mandela’ months before on social media, which suggests the analogy was deliberate. See http://www.scotsman.com/news/drumlanrig-gordon-brown-nelson-mandela-geoff-hurst-1-3224520, 29 September 2014.

[vii] http://www.telegraph.co.uk/technology/news/6408927/Internet-rules-and-laws-the-top-10-from-Godwin-to-Poe.html, 23 October 2009.

[viii] Hoggart, Richard. The Uses of Literacy: Aspects of Working-Class Life. London: Penguin Classics, 2009, 86.

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