Documents found in armchair show role of ‘ordinary Nazis’
A new non-fiction book, described as a detective story and a thriller, explores the life and motivation of a low-ranking SS Nazi officer, whose name would never be known if his papers weren’t found hidden in the upholstery of an armchair decades after the Holocaust.
Dr Daniel Lee, the author of The SS Officer’s Armchair: In Search of a Hidden Life, spoke to Tali Nates, the director of the Johannesburg Holocaust & Genocide Centre, in a webinar hosted by Limmud South Africa and the SA Jewish Report on the evening of Saturday, 22 August.
“We know about the so-called ‘desk killers’ [like Adolf Eichmann], the Einsatzgruppen [the mobile killing units who rounded up and shot Jews as the German army advanced east], and the camp commanders, but we don’t know many of the ‘ordinary Nazis’ whose names you might not find on Google, but who played just as an important part in the Final Solution,” said Nates in introducing the book, which centres on the previously unknown story of Dr Robert Griesinger.
An historian of World War II, Lee explained how the story “literally came out of the woodwork” when he was living in Florence. A stranger who became aware of his profession, asked for his help in finding out more about swastika-covered documents that her mother had discovered sewn into her old armchair when she took it to be re-upholstered.
The woman wasn’t a relative of Griesinger, and had bought the armchair many years previously. But when he began to find out more, Lee managed to find a number of Griesinger’s family members, who had no idea of their relative’s Nazi past.
Lee said Griesinger was ordinary in every way, and would have been lost to the annals of history had these documents not been discovered. “He was a typical SS member who came from a very middle class family, had a university education, and was Protestant. He ticked all the boxes of what an SS member should be.”
But when Lee dug deeper, he found that Griesinger didn’t have deep roots in Germany, but his family had lived in New Orleans in the deep south of America for a number of generations. With in-depth research that brought late family members to life, he demonstrates that Griesinger could have inherited his white-supremacist ideas from his grandmother, whom he adored, and who had grown up with enslaved people in her household.
The family returned to Germany only in the late 19th century, and Griesinger was born in Stuttgart in 1906, in the middle of the “war youth” generation that grew up with the defeat of Germany in World War I as a defining factor of their identity. “I managed to find his mother’s diary who wrote every day and collected photos and newspapers,” which showed how “this generation witnessed the absolute collapse of the values and certainties of their parents’ world.”
Lee traces how Griesinger went on to study law, eventually working as a public servant for the Gestapo in enforcing the Nazi state’s racist laws. “Griesinger’s work at the Gestapo rendered him a significant link in the chain of the Nazi police state,” he wrote. He worked in Stuttgart’s Gestapo “Hotel Silber”, where just a few floors below his feet, so-called enemies of the state were interrogated and tortured.
His career flourished as a lawyer and public servant. “He joined a group of lawyers who wore ordinary suits, not SS uniforms. He wasn’t going out and rounding up Jews, but he was responsible, and knew what was going on as he sat at his desk,” said Lee.
His career peaked at his posting in Prague in the ministry of economics and labour. “It was his dream come true to go to Prague. His kids went to the best schools, and they got the best rations. But his work put him in charge of Czech workers being sent to forced labour camps in terribly debilitating conditions. In 1943 in Prague, most Jews were incarcerated or sent to concentration camps. Of those that were still there, they were also sent to do forced labour under his auspices.”
How did the documents end up in the armchair? When Lee tracked down the late SS officer’s daughter, Barbara, she surmised that as a German in Prague in May 1945, he was under no illusion about the dangers he faced.
“Barbara described a scene in which a scared and frantic Robert, wanting to hide his identity papers, somehow opened the cushion and placed the documents inside,” he writes. He had reason to be frightened, as Lee looks into what his fate might have been at the end of the war.
Lee spoke about how he found that when Griesinger was newly married, he lived right next door to a Jewish couple, the Rothschilds. In the book, he recounts this Jewish couple’s astounding story, and finds their granddaughter, who says her grandparents would have lived a religious Jewish life – right across the wall from Griesinger’s home. Lee surmises that the couples probably interacted on a regular basis, and wonders how Griesinger separated this reality from his Nazi worldview. Mrs Rothschild, who survived the Holocaust, lived in London and “died in Wembley in 1983, the same part of London and in the same year in which I was born,” writes the author.
He recounted how he found another personal coincidence in his research. Although he tries to keep a personal distance from his work, he was startled to find that in July 1941, Griesinger’s Wehrmacht unit happened to pass through the shtetl that his maternal grandmother’s father came from in Ukraine. The SS officer had been called up to serve in August 1939. “For a fleeting moment in July 1941, Griesinger looked out on the district of Tarashcha, and experienced the same sights and sounds that for centuries had given familiarity to my ancestors’ everyday lives,” he writes.
The book also explores multiple issues arising from World War II and the Holocaust, such as the “wall of silence” that faced the next generation who asked questions about their parents’ role in those events. It examines the little-known fact that the Wehrmacht played a role in killing Jews, even though for decades after the war, historians and the German public believed it wasn’t involved in these mass murders. It questions our sometimes one-dimensional ideas of figures and organisations during that period.
In telling this story, Lee demonstrates that, “We still know far too little about how low-ranking officials experienced the 1930s and 1940s, and Griesinger’s life helps us to understand why Nazi rule was possible. Ordinary Nazis such as Robert Griesinger entered into loving personal relationships and made professional decisions to better themselves and their families. Men like Griesinger effortlessly switched from being kind, gentle, and funny to displaying cold-blooded cunning and indifference,” he writes.
Lee said that the research for the book took him five to six years. “I was never clear what I was after. There were so many threads and possibilities.” Indeed, the book spans way beyond Griesinger’s story, weaving in multiple fascinating narratives that demonstrate the impact one person’s life can have on the world.
SA Jewry’s pandemic response unique and robust, experts say
The South African Jewish community’s response to the pandemic has been singled out as unique, efficient, and robust in an academic paper that tracks how the community galvanised itself from March to October 2020.
From the start of hard lockdown, “It became apparent to me that our response as a community was unusually speedy, pro-active, and comprehensive,” says Leah Gilbert on what motivated her to write the paper. “I was impressed with the fact that we used the expertise available among us to inform the community. In addition, the quick emergence of support programmes for people who were infected was unique.”
Gilbert is emeritus professor of Health Sociology at the University of the Witwatersrand, where she taught and researched health and disease in the social context for 35 years. Her daughter and fellow author of the article, Shirli Gilbert, is professor of Modern Jewish History at University College London, and academic director of the Sir Martin Gilbert Learning Centre.
The article has already been accessed almost 1 000 times online, a high number for an academic study of this kind. The authors hope it will be useful for understanding communal responses to the pandemic in South Africa and in other communities worldwide.
Of all the Jewish communities in the world, why did they decide to focus on this one? “During the first lockdown in Johannesburg, observing through my professional lens my society’s relationship to health and disease, I had the idea of documenting our community’s response to the pandemic,” says the elder Gilbert.
“It began with the first SA Jewish Report webinar with medical experts, and the subsequent dissemination and sharing of knowledge and activities,” she says. “I approached my daughter, whose research focuses on the South African Jewish community, and we started collecting relevant material.
“The community’s response to the pandemic spanned the gamut from physical and mental health to religious observance, home schooling, financial relief, food aid, and social-welfare support,” Gilbert says. “The common theme among the initiatives was the efficiency with which resources were mobilised, something possible only because of a robust and highly centralised pre-existing communal infrastructure and strong networks of social capital.”
In their paper, they note that, “The unique response of the South African Jewish community to COVID-19 must be understood within the larger context of the relationship between Jews and health. Scholarship suggests that Jews have a heightened concern for health relative to other groups.”
They also write that “unlike other diaspora communities, in South Africa, a great deal of emphasis has historically been placed on communal unity”. Another unique factor is that “following the transition [to democracy], communal investment in outreach has expanded significantly”.
“Taken together, the centrality of health, robust communal infrastructure, and strong community social capital against the background of the Jewish community’s particular positioning in post-apartheid South Africa helps to account for the uniquely co-ordinated, energetic, and multipronged nature of the community’s pandemic response.”
However, the community also faced many challenges during the pandemic. “The ageing nature of the Jewish community in South Africa meant that the percentage of vulnerable people was relatively high,” says the elder Gilbert.
“This higher risk profile helps to explain the motivation for the quick and powerful mobilisation of resources. There was some friction around the question of how support for Jewish communal welfare fitted alongside South African Jews’ commitment to broader South African society. On the whole, however, evidence suggests that community support for both ‘inreach’ and ‘outreach’ initiatives has been generous and widespread.
“The pandemic has also been difficult for this community in particular because of the extent to which Jewish families are dispersed across the world, which meant long periods of time for families to be apart.”
Another challenge has been resources, especially financial. As they write, “despite the robustness of the community’s infrastructure and its still considerable resources, there are concerns about its long-term health and prospects. On 19 June , the Chev [Chevrah Kadisha] was forced for the first time in its 132-year history to call for emergency financial support. Its work in both residential care and financial assistance – sectors especially impacted by the pandemic – left it severely exposed, and with almost no state support and overwhelming reliance on private donor funds, it was placed under unprecedented strain.
“The community remains highly vigilant, and co-ordinated leadership continues to be delivered by the South African Jewish Board of Deputies, the office of the chief rabbi, and the Chevrah Kadisha, together with other organisations and in partnership with Jewish experts,” they write in their conclusion. “Some cracks, however, are already beginning to show. The extent to which it will be possible to retain the strength and co-ordination of these responses as the pandemic’s severe effects persist remains to be seen.”
They researched their subject by collecting data from all issues of South African Jewish publications during the period under study (March to October 2020). This included the SA Jewish Report, the Cape Jewish Chronicle, Jewish Life, and Jewish Affairs, as well as websites, social media, and other public communications of major communal institutions, the office of the chief rabbi, and Jewish-led relief initiatives and organisations. “The analysis of the data took two months, after which we wrote up the article itself,” says the younger Gilbert.
The SA Jewish Report was one of their prime resources, “since it provided granular detail of what was happening on a weekly basis, both events and ongoing discussions and debates. The SA Jewish Report webinars were also key as they were helping to provide support and access to information that the community needed,” she says.
Asked how they think the South African Jewish community will emerge from the pandemic, they say, “The conclusion [of the paper] is a paradoxical one. On the one hand, the article emphasises the robustness of the community’s infrastructure and its considerable resources, which have allowed it to mount an impressive response to the pandemic.
“On the other hand, the enormous challenges posed by the pandemic have also heightened existing feelings of precariousness and vulnerability within the community. The economic future of largely self-funded Jewish communal organisations is uncertain, emigration is ongoing and possibly increasing, and the self-employed (among whom Jews are strongly represented) have been hard-hit,” according to the elder Gilbert.
Asked if they will conduct research on the South African Jewish community in future, the younger Gilbert says, “My historical research on the South African Jewish community is ongoing. I’m working on a study of German Jews who came to South Africa in the 1930s, as well as a special journal issue on South African Jews co-edited with Professor Adam Mendelsohn. In October-November 2021, I’ll be teaching a six-part online course on Jews in South Africa for the Sir Martin Gilbert Learning Centre. Everyone is welcome.”
- The academic paper can be accessed by searching “South African Jewish Responses to COVID-19” on Google.
- The Sir Martin Gilbert Learning Centre course can be accessed by looking at the “What’s On” tab on www.sirmartingilbertlearningcentre.org
JNF-SA trail commemorates “Great Jewish Escape”
Between 1945 and 1948, up to 300 000 Holocaust survivors and Jewish partisans were rescued across war-ravaged Europe in preparation to enter British-occupied eretz Yisrael before the declaration of the Jewish state. Yet, the remarkable achievements of the Bricha (escape or flight) Movement have been all but forgotten in Israel today.
The Jewish National Fund of South Africa (JNF-SA) is trying to change that by creating the Shvi Bricha walking trail in the Carmel mountain range in Israel’s north. It symbolises the thousands of kilometres traversed on foot by the Bricha Movement to freedom.
The Bricha – the Great Jewish Escape – was the topic of a webinar hosted by the JNF-SA and the South African Zionist Federation last week.
Pre-eminent Holocaust historian Professor Yehuda Bauer wrote one of the only books on the Bricha, published in 1974. He explained how in July 1944, Abba Kovner, a Jewish partisan commander, travelled to Soviet-occupied Vilnius in Lithuania to convince the authorities to let the Jews leave.
“It was a hopeless endeavour,” said Bauer. Zionist youth movements became active leaders in the Bricha, the clandestine, underground movement to rescue partisans (and later, survivors and those who were hidden) to smuggle them out of Europe.
After the war, millions of people were on the move throughout Europe. At first, there were no separate displaced persons camps for Jewish survivors, and they had to fight for recognition of their Jewish national identity. The Bricha Movement was central to these efforts.
In September 1945, the first shlichim (emissaries) from eretz Yisrael arrived in Europe to co-ordinate the Great Jewish Escape. One was Tzvi Netzer, himself an escapee from Europe just two years before, proficient in German, Hebrew, Russian, and Yiddish. Bricha leaders had to bribe many border officials across Europe to allow people to pass into different countries, from Poland to Romania, Yugoslavia, Czechoslovakia, and Allied-occupied Germany and Austria. They needed graphic designers to forge visas and other official documents. Sometimes, the Jewish groups pretended to be Greeks returning home. They spoke Hebrew, passing it off as Greek to the none-the-wiser Polish authorities. The entire operation was funded by the Joint (the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee).
Many gathered in displaced persons camps, and then eventually moved on to Greece, Italy, and France and then on to eretz Yisrael by ship as part of “Aliyah Bet” in defiance of the British naval blockade curbing Jewish immigration before 1948.
“It was absolutely amazing,” said Bauer. “It was the largest illegal mass movement in Europe in the twentieth century. Without the Bricha, there would have been no state of Israel. The Holocaust almost destroyed the hope of a Jewish state. Vast numbers of potential immigrants were killed. The displaced persons camps and the Bricha put pressure on the British and United States to help create the state.”
Professor Avinoam Patt from the University of Connecticut is the author of Finding Home and Homeland: Jewish Youth and the Bricha after the Holocaust. He noted that about 75% to 80% of Holocaust survivors were aged between 17 and 35. Most had lost their entire families and their homes. They faced enduring antisemitism in Europe (such as the devastating Kielce pogrom in Poland in 1946) and had to take control of their lives. With other avenues closed and feeling unwelcome in Europe, many embraced Zionism, helping to revive Zionist youth movements decimated in the war. Some set up kibbutzim – communal farms – in Europe, to learn agriculture in preparation for aliyah.
“The Bricha Trail is now an open-air museum and major educational tool of the Great Jewish Escape,” said Dr Omri Bone from the Keren Kayemet L’Yisrael, the JNF-SA’s parent body. He lauded JNF-SA for its efforts to make this become a reality.
Dr Miri Nehari, a clinical and educational psychologist, is the chairperson of the Bricha Legacy Association in Israel. She is the daughter of Tzvi Netzer. “The Bricha isn’t known, spoken about, or researched in Israel,” she said. “The Shvi Habricha is the only commemoration for the Bricha Movement. The association receives no funding from the state. Its main argument is that it didn’t take place on the soil of Israel.” She says the neglect of the Bricha reflects a deeper ambivalence about the Holocaust and its role in the formation of the state of Israel.
Hopefully, JNF-SA’s efforts will start to change all that.
Taliban takeover – a booster shot for radical Islamists
The rapid assumption of power by the Taliban in Afghanistan as the United States (US) withdrew its forces will have ramifications far beyond Central Asia, not least for Israel, according to veteran US diplomat and academic Ambassador Dennis Ross.
Ross, who advised the Clinton and Obama Administrations, was interviewed by Carly Maisel in a Lockdown University webinar, broadcast by the Rabbi Cyril Harris Community Centre on 28 August.
“Begun in 2001, Afghanistan was the longest war in US history,” Ross said. “Afghanistan is known as the ‘death knell of empires’, as discovered by the British, the Soviets, and now the Americans.”
President Donald Trump wanted the US out of Afghanistan, what he called a “forever war”. From a high of 150 000 US troops, there were just 2 500 remaining when Joe Biden assumed office in 2021. He, too, was determined to leave Afghanistan. In spite of investment of more than $85 billion [R1.2 trillion] in the Afghan army over 20 years [and more than $1 trillion (R14.6 trillion) spent on the war in total] “there was massive corruption and poor morale. It was a hollow force,” Ross said.
After being vanquished in just six weeks in 2001, the Taliban melted away, bided its time, and regrouped, drawing support from local populations and neighbours such as Pakistan. “Afghan governments looked like foreign implants; they were corrupt and lacked credibility. This helped the Taliban gradually rebuild itself,” said Ross.
The new Taliban government wants international support and recognition. It has therefore sought to project a more moderate image than it had in its first stint in government from 1996-2001. Its pronouncements about being more tolerant towards women’s rights, for example, don’t convince Ross.
“The risk is that the Taliban victory acts as a recruitment tool – a booster shot for radical Sunni Islamists. They have portrayed the US withdrawal as a great victory on social media. They want to show they’re back in business,” said Ross.
So what effect will it have on the region and wider international community?
Iran has a history of hostility and suspicion for the Taliban. They almost went to war in 1998, after the killing of nine Iranian diplomats by the Taliban. Also, the Taliban are radical Sunni Salafists who see Shia Iran as heretics; neither side is tolerant. The Taliban has profited from the opium trade from Afghani poppy fields, fuelling drug addiction in Iran.
Nevertheless, the two have been building a relationship over the past few years, including Iran arming the Taliban. “They have a shared desire to see the defeat of the US everywhere, and seek its humiliation,” said Ross. “Their commentary has been gloating.” He predicts that the new Iranian government will be even more confrontational with the US, and will “want more, for less” in any renegotiated nuclear deal with the US and its allies.
Israel has received support from the US, which has resupplied weapons to Israel after the clashes with Gaza, and continued financial support. “But Israel has always told everyone that ultimately, it needs to depend on itself. This has always been part of the Israeli ethos. It will never ask the US to die for it. Israel will defend itself by itself. The American experience in Afghanistan has only deepened this sense,” said Ross. The security establishment wants the US to re-enter the Iran nuclear deal not because it thinks it’s a good deal, but so that it can buy the time Israel needs to stop Iran acquiring nuclear weapons, by force if needed.
Pakistan has provided sanctuary for Taliban leaders, partly to undermine Indian influence in Afghanistan. It has suffered heinous terror attacks by the Taliban, but sees everything through its struggle with India. The world must be wary of a nuclear-armed Pakistan, with growing radicalism.
Russia hasn’t rushed to recognise the Taliban government. It has kept its embassy open, and has a “wait and see” attitude. By conducting military exercises in the former Soviet republic, Tajikistan, President Vladimir Putin is sending a message to the Taliban and other radical Islamists: don’t mess with us, according to Ross. But, “Russia, too, will celebrate every US defeat.”
China may seek to exploit large lithium deposits in Afghanistan, but it, like Russia, fears Islamist insurrection in its vast territory. Getting to the lithium would require major investment, and China may incorporate it into its “Belt and Road” initiative – a grand plan to build supportive infrastructure on China’s main trade routes.
“China and Russia will seek to take some advantage, but will both tread carefully because of profound suspicion of the Taliban,” Ross said.
Looking ahead, Ross said there could be civil strife within the Taliban. “We may face a mess for some time to come in Afghanistan. I’d love to say we achieved something, but at what price? We hoped we would see competence after the chaotic dysfunction of the Trump presidency. It sure doesn’t look like it. We’ll need some foreign policy successes.”