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Nuremberg, a historic medieval city, was widely known in the 1930s as the most pro-Nazi city in Germany. Last December was also the origin of a wonderful seven-day cruise on the Danube River for my wife and me. Conscious of its historical significance, we had come to see the city early, especially to tour its World War II sites.
Nuremberg was the site of gigantic annual rallies celebrating the Nazi Party and its Fuhrer, Adolf Hitler. Our tour guide, Tom, a native of Nuremberg, began to open my eyes anew to the fanatical power and charisma of Hitler. Tom took us first to the vast parade grounds and reviewing stand before which, in 1934, an astounding one million people assembled rank on rank. To address his followers, the Fuhrer descended to the speaker's platform from a doorway above, "like an angel from heaven", said our guide, to proclaim "Ein Volk, Ein Reich, Ein Fuhrer" (one people, one nation, one leader).
Donald Trump announced his candidacy for the Presidency last June, descending to similarly orchestrated acclaim on an escalator at Trump Tower. Although the number of followers on that occasion afforded no comparison with Hitler's masses, I did think of comparable egos. Campaigning in Iowa in January, Trump said, "I could stand in the middle of Fifth Avenue and shoot somebody, and I wouldn't lose voters."
We next visited Nuremberg's Documentation Center, a new museum whose four floors thoroughly document the crimes of the Nazi era. As you go through the museum, the Nazi posters, newsreels, and photographs of the era, recordings of interviews with prominent people, and the soundtracks of pumped-up Nazi rallies give you a feel for the incredible fervor of the time. Ordinary Germans interviewed in the 1960s and 1970s admitted being swept up in the emotion. "Being at the Nazi rallies was the thing to do," said one. As Tom explained, the Nazi Party message was: "Put yourself totally in our hands, and you will be taken care of." Unless you're Jewish, communist, trade unionist, homosexual, gypsy, or mentally or physically deficient, in which case...
How could the German people become so swept up, so willing to be put on such a barbaric history track? Historians still struggle to explain. However, the punitive reparations demanded by the victorious allies after World War I, along with the severe economic depression of the 1920s and early 1930s, left Germans bitter and demoralized. Together with Hitler's Mein Kampf, the Nazi ideology began to provide millions of disillusioned and desperate Germans with an explanation for their plight, a focal point for their discontent and hope for the future.
There seems to be a similar mood in America today among many people who have been left out of an incomplete economic recovery, scared of increased threats by ISIS and others, and threatened by the increased presence and voices of people of color, immigrants, and those of other religions. And the pace of economic and technological change is too fast and bewildering for many more of us.
In such a climate, Donald Trump has developed his presidential campaign with astounding success. His themes are strikingly similar to those of Hitler and the Nazis of the 1930s:
On Mexican people: "They are sending people that have lots of problems...they're bringing drugs, crime and rapists".
On Muslims entering the United States, Trump would propose a total and complete shutdown. In South Carolina on Feb. 19, Trump told a bizarre story, probably apocryphal: that Gen. John J. Pershing shortly after the Spanish-American War (1898) used bullets dipped in pigs' blood to execute dozens of Muslim prisoners in the Philippines. Said Trump, the moral of this story is that "We better start getting tough, and we better start getting vigilant or we're not going to have a country."
Trump cheers at a rally when his supporters physically tackle an African American protester, saying next day that "Maybe he should've been roughed up". On Feb. 27, he declined to disavow the support of white nationalist and ex-Ku Klux Klan supporter David Duke.
In 1938 on Kristallnacht (The Night of Broken Glass) hundreds of Jewish synagogues and thousands of Jewish businesses throughout Germany were destroyed along with many Jews beaten or killed by Nazi SA thugs.
Trump mocks a disabled reporter for the New York Times at a Nov. 25 rally.
Regarding our military: "We've gotta make our military so strong, so big, so powerful, that nobody's going to mess with us (a line he frequently uses)."
At a rally in South Carolina Feb. 17, Trump defends torture, saying "Waterboarding is fine but not nearly tough enough."
He said also, "I think apologizing is a great thing, but you have to be wrong. I will apologize if I'm ever wrong."
Does some of this sound like Germany and its leader in the 1930s?
Pastor Martin Niemoller, a German anti-Nazi theologian and Lutheran pastor, is said to have spoken these prophetic words after the war:
First, they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out because I was not a socialist. Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out because I was not a trade unionist. Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out because I was not a Jew. Then they came for me, and there was no one left to speak for me.
The Nuremberg tour and my contemplation of the Nazi horror confirmed for me in a visceral way the dangerous situation we are facing in our country. More and more people seem inclined to accept the words of this vicious and ego-driven man whose perspective on our nation and world has little relation to the values and vision of the founders of this country.
A few weeks ago, Pope Francis, responding to Mr. Trump, indicated that Christians and others should be building bridges, not walls. Whether or not one sees in this dangerous demagogue an incipient fascism, it is urgent that we heed Pastor Niemoller's warning and decisively raise our voices in support of the Common Good and for justice and compassion for all.
Dear Common Dreams reader, It’s been nearly 30 years since I co-founded Common Dreams with my late wife, Lina Newhouser. We had the radical notion that journalism should serve the public good, not corporate profits. It was clear to us from the outset what it would take to build such a project. No paid advertisements. No corporate sponsors. No millionaire publisher telling us what to think or do. Many people said we wouldn't last a year, but we proved those doubters wrong. Together with a tremendous team of journalists and dedicated staff, we built an independent media outlet free from the constraints of profits and corporate control. Our mission has always been simple: To inform. To inspire. To ignite change for the common good. Building Common Dreams was not easy. Our survival was never guaranteed. When you take on the most powerful forces—Wall Street greed, fossil fuel industry destruction, Big Tech lobbyists, and uber-rich oligarchs who have spent billions upon billions rigging the economy and democracy in their favor—the only bulwark you have is supporters who believe in your work. But here’s the urgent message from me today. It's never been this bad out there. And it's never been this hard to keep us going. At the very moment Common Dreams is most needed, the threats we face are intensifying. We need your support now more than ever. We don't accept corporate advertising and never will. We don't have a paywall because we don't think people should be blocked from critical news based on their ability to pay. Everything we do is funded by the donations of readers like you. When everyone does the little they can afford, we are strong. But if that support retreats or dries up, so do we. Will you donate now to make sure Common Dreams not only survives but thrives? —Craig Brown, Co-founder |
Nuremberg, a historic medieval city, was widely known in the 1930s as the most pro-Nazi city in Germany. Last December was also the origin of a wonderful seven-day cruise on the Danube River for my wife and me. Conscious of its historical significance, we had come to see the city early, especially to tour its World War II sites.
Nuremberg was the site of gigantic annual rallies celebrating the Nazi Party and its Fuhrer, Adolf Hitler. Our tour guide, Tom, a native of Nuremberg, began to open my eyes anew to the fanatical power and charisma of Hitler. Tom took us first to the vast parade grounds and reviewing stand before which, in 1934, an astounding one million people assembled rank on rank. To address his followers, the Fuhrer descended to the speaker's platform from a doorway above, "like an angel from heaven", said our guide, to proclaim "Ein Volk, Ein Reich, Ein Fuhrer" (one people, one nation, one leader).
Donald Trump announced his candidacy for the Presidency last June, descending to similarly orchestrated acclaim on an escalator at Trump Tower. Although the number of followers on that occasion afforded no comparison with Hitler's masses, I did think of comparable egos. Campaigning in Iowa in January, Trump said, "I could stand in the middle of Fifth Avenue and shoot somebody, and I wouldn't lose voters."
We next visited Nuremberg's Documentation Center, a new museum whose four floors thoroughly document the crimes of the Nazi era. As you go through the museum, the Nazi posters, newsreels, and photographs of the era, recordings of interviews with prominent people, and the soundtracks of pumped-up Nazi rallies give you a feel for the incredible fervor of the time. Ordinary Germans interviewed in the 1960s and 1970s admitted being swept up in the emotion. "Being at the Nazi rallies was the thing to do," said one. As Tom explained, the Nazi Party message was: "Put yourself totally in our hands, and you will be taken care of." Unless you're Jewish, communist, trade unionist, homosexual, gypsy, or mentally or physically deficient, in which case...
How could the German people become so swept up, so willing to be put on such a barbaric history track? Historians still struggle to explain. However, the punitive reparations demanded by the victorious allies after World War I, along with the severe economic depression of the 1920s and early 1930s, left Germans bitter and demoralized. Together with Hitler's Mein Kampf, the Nazi ideology began to provide millions of disillusioned and desperate Germans with an explanation for their plight, a focal point for their discontent and hope for the future.
There seems to be a similar mood in America today among many people who have been left out of an incomplete economic recovery, scared of increased threats by ISIS and others, and threatened by the increased presence and voices of people of color, immigrants, and those of other religions. And the pace of economic and technological change is too fast and bewildering for many more of us.
In such a climate, Donald Trump has developed his presidential campaign with astounding success. His themes are strikingly similar to those of Hitler and the Nazis of the 1930s:
On Mexican people: "They are sending people that have lots of problems...they're bringing drugs, crime and rapists".
On Muslims entering the United States, Trump would propose a total and complete shutdown. In South Carolina on Feb. 19, Trump told a bizarre story, probably apocryphal: that Gen. John J. Pershing shortly after the Spanish-American War (1898) used bullets dipped in pigs' blood to execute dozens of Muslim prisoners in the Philippines. Said Trump, the moral of this story is that "We better start getting tough, and we better start getting vigilant or we're not going to have a country."
Trump cheers at a rally when his supporters physically tackle an African American protester, saying next day that "Maybe he should've been roughed up". On Feb. 27, he declined to disavow the support of white nationalist and ex-Ku Klux Klan supporter David Duke.
In 1938 on Kristallnacht (The Night of Broken Glass) hundreds of Jewish synagogues and thousands of Jewish businesses throughout Germany were destroyed along with many Jews beaten or killed by Nazi SA thugs.
Trump mocks a disabled reporter for the New York Times at a Nov. 25 rally.
Regarding our military: "We've gotta make our military so strong, so big, so powerful, that nobody's going to mess with us (a line he frequently uses)."
At a rally in South Carolina Feb. 17, Trump defends torture, saying "Waterboarding is fine but not nearly tough enough."
He said also, "I think apologizing is a great thing, but you have to be wrong. I will apologize if I'm ever wrong."
Does some of this sound like Germany and its leader in the 1930s?
Pastor Martin Niemoller, a German anti-Nazi theologian and Lutheran pastor, is said to have spoken these prophetic words after the war:
First, they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out because I was not a socialist. Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out because I was not a trade unionist. Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out because I was not a Jew. Then they came for me, and there was no one left to speak for me.
The Nuremberg tour and my contemplation of the Nazi horror confirmed for me in a visceral way the dangerous situation we are facing in our country. More and more people seem inclined to accept the words of this vicious and ego-driven man whose perspective on our nation and world has little relation to the values and vision of the founders of this country.
A few weeks ago, Pope Francis, responding to Mr. Trump, indicated that Christians and others should be building bridges, not walls. Whether or not one sees in this dangerous demagogue an incipient fascism, it is urgent that we heed Pastor Niemoller's warning and decisively raise our voices in support of the Common Good and for justice and compassion for all.
Nuremberg, a historic medieval city, was widely known in the 1930s as the most pro-Nazi city in Germany. Last December was also the origin of a wonderful seven-day cruise on the Danube River for my wife and me. Conscious of its historical significance, we had come to see the city early, especially to tour its World War II sites.
Nuremberg was the site of gigantic annual rallies celebrating the Nazi Party and its Fuhrer, Adolf Hitler. Our tour guide, Tom, a native of Nuremberg, began to open my eyes anew to the fanatical power and charisma of Hitler. Tom took us first to the vast parade grounds and reviewing stand before which, in 1934, an astounding one million people assembled rank on rank. To address his followers, the Fuhrer descended to the speaker's platform from a doorway above, "like an angel from heaven", said our guide, to proclaim "Ein Volk, Ein Reich, Ein Fuhrer" (one people, one nation, one leader).
Donald Trump announced his candidacy for the Presidency last June, descending to similarly orchestrated acclaim on an escalator at Trump Tower. Although the number of followers on that occasion afforded no comparison with Hitler's masses, I did think of comparable egos. Campaigning in Iowa in January, Trump said, "I could stand in the middle of Fifth Avenue and shoot somebody, and I wouldn't lose voters."
We next visited Nuremberg's Documentation Center, a new museum whose four floors thoroughly document the crimes of the Nazi era. As you go through the museum, the Nazi posters, newsreels, and photographs of the era, recordings of interviews with prominent people, and the soundtracks of pumped-up Nazi rallies give you a feel for the incredible fervor of the time. Ordinary Germans interviewed in the 1960s and 1970s admitted being swept up in the emotion. "Being at the Nazi rallies was the thing to do," said one. As Tom explained, the Nazi Party message was: "Put yourself totally in our hands, and you will be taken care of." Unless you're Jewish, communist, trade unionist, homosexual, gypsy, or mentally or physically deficient, in which case...
How could the German people become so swept up, so willing to be put on such a barbaric history track? Historians still struggle to explain. However, the punitive reparations demanded by the victorious allies after World War I, along with the severe economic depression of the 1920s and early 1930s, left Germans bitter and demoralized. Together with Hitler's Mein Kampf, the Nazi ideology began to provide millions of disillusioned and desperate Germans with an explanation for their plight, a focal point for their discontent and hope for the future.
There seems to be a similar mood in America today among many people who have been left out of an incomplete economic recovery, scared of increased threats by ISIS and others, and threatened by the increased presence and voices of people of color, immigrants, and those of other religions. And the pace of economic and technological change is too fast and bewildering for many more of us.
In such a climate, Donald Trump has developed his presidential campaign with astounding success. His themes are strikingly similar to those of Hitler and the Nazis of the 1930s:
On Mexican people: "They are sending people that have lots of problems...they're bringing drugs, crime and rapists".
On Muslims entering the United States, Trump would propose a total and complete shutdown. In South Carolina on Feb. 19, Trump told a bizarre story, probably apocryphal: that Gen. John J. Pershing shortly after the Spanish-American War (1898) used bullets dipped in pigs' blood to execute dozens of Muslim prisoners in the Philippines. Said Trump, the moral of this story is that "We better start getting tough, and we better start getting vigilant or we're not going to have a country."
Trump cheers at a rally when his supporters physically tackle an African American protester, saying next day that "Maybe he should've been roughed up". On Feb. 27, he declined to disavow the support of white nationalist and ex-Ku Klux Klan supporter David Duke.
In 1938 on Kristallnacht (The Night of Broken Glass) hundreds of Jewish synagogues and thousands of Jewish businesses throughout Germany were destroyed along with many Jews beaten or killed by Nazi SA thugs.
Trump mocks a disabled reporter for the New York Times at a Nov. 25 rally.
Regarding our military: "We've gotta make our military so strong, so big, so powerful, that nobody's going to mess with us (a line he frequently uses)."
At a rally in South Carolina Feb. 17, Trump defends torture, saying "Waterboarding is fine but not nearly tough enough."
He said also, "I think apologizing is a great thing, but you have to be wrong. I will apologize if I'm ever wrong."
Does some of this sound like Germany and its leader in the 1930s?
Pastor Martin Niemoller, a German anti-Nazi theologian and Lutheran pastor, is said to have spoken these prophetic words after the war:
First, they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out because I was not a socialist. Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out because I was not a trade unionist. Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out because I was not a Jew. Then they came for me, and there was no one left to speak for me.
The Nuremberg tour and my contemplation of the Nazi horror confirmed for me in a visceral way the dangerous situation we are facing in our country. More and more people seem inclined to accept the words of this vicious and ego-driven man whose perspective on our nation and world has little relation to the values and vision of the founders of this country.
A few weeks ago, Pope Francis, responding to Mr. Trump, indicated that Christians and others should be building bridges, not walls. Whether or not one sees in this dangerous demagogue an incipient fascism, it is urgent that we heed Pastor Niemoller's warning and decisively raise our voices in support of the Common Good and for justice and compassion for all.