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“Indians Couldn’t Stop Immigration” (Part I): Indian Imagery as a Role Model for German Nationalism, Then and Now

One of the many exciting results of last year’s research and lecture tour through the Southwest and California was the networking with a host of scholars in history and Native American studies. Many of the discussions and meetings led to further collaboration. Last week’s symposium at the Akademie für Politische Bildung in Tutzing, Bavaria, was one such project. Fellow historian Volker Benkert from Arizona State University invited me to participate in this meeting titled “Freunde, Feinde, Fremde? Deutsche Perspektiven auf die USA seit 1945.

The APB was founded by the state of Bavaria in 1957 to promote political education and thus strengthen democratic practice in Bavaria. It offers space for academic meetings and public events. It has hosted a number of annual meetings of historians in the German Association for American Studies, so I have been visiting a few times already. Its location directly adjacent to Lake Starnberg (the fifth-largest in Germany) makes it an ideal place to combine work and recreation.

The symposium gathered scholars in history, political sciences, and literature to discuss German-American relations since the end of World War II. Presentations reflected on the ups and downs in the relationship and investigated historical and cultural factors influencing how Germans perceive, and have perceived, America.

In my presentation, I discussed German self-perception via the notions of Indigeneity and nationalism that were major issues for my dissertation. Initially, I had planned to present a broad overview on how German Indianthusiasm shaped German perceptions of the US as a “common enemy” of Germans and Native Americans, but also as a place of yearning, before and after 1945. Yet, looking for more recent examples of how Indian imagery serves to portray the US in German pop culture, I focused on notions of national identity. Nationalism being my chief approach for the dissertation, I found numerous examples of nationalist and völkisch thinking in Indian images even after World War II.

Völkisch” means notions of peoplehood based on essentialist perceptions of national identity: the idea that character traits and one’s sense of belonging are determined by blood and by the natural environment. Völkisch thought is, thus, a basis for blood-and-soil ideology. If group identity is determined by blood, then it is almost impossible to come to “belong” as an outsider (or as an immigrant, for that matter). Unlike the tradition of American identity that allows for immigrants to become Americans through assimilation/integration, völkisch thought would deny the possibility of someone ‘learning’ to be a German and, being determined by blood, ‘German culture’ is perceived to be inherent in peoplehood, so it cannot be learned or shared with other peoples, either. This notion, of course, breeds xenophobia and racism.

I would argue that part of this philosophy can still be seen in the current term “people with a migration background” (Menschen mit Migrationshintergrund), employed to be more politically correct than “foreigner/alien” (Ausländer)it nevertheless states that the depicted person, their parent or grandparent generation, was not born a German, and thus the following generations bear the taint of otherness. Traces of it are also still present in the ongoing legislation ruling that, even when born in Germany, you are not automatically a German citizen if born to immigrant parents.

In my work on Indianthusiasm and Nazi ideology, I have discussed how German nationalists and national socialists used these notions to say that Americans have destroyed Native American culture (if it cannot be shared, it can also not adapt, and thus peoplehood must perish if it encounters too much pressure/influence from outside). Note that the argument is about one overall Nativethat is, “racial”culture, which allows for understanding the colonial conflict as a race war between ‘red’ and ‘white.’

Nazis argued that American cultural imperialism threatened German culture during the early 20th century, as well, facilitating an image of Germans and Native Americans as fellow victims of American cultural imperialism. In addition, they compared and likened frontier massacres with the Anglo-American bombing campaign against German cities in WWII as examples of American “roguishness” and “inherent rowdyism.”

Looking for recent examples of such völkisch anti-American argumentation, I encountered debates on immigration in Germany. Conservatives, neo-Nazis, and, most recently, proponents of the anti-Islamic so-called PEGIDA movement (“Patriotic Europeans Against the Islamization of the West”) have referred to Native Americans as examples of how Germans, if they didn’t stop immigration, would end up “like the Indians”living on reservations, being strangers on their own land, and having their culture destroyed by invading waves of strangersin the völkisch sense, of ‘the other,’ of those who don’t belong because they are alien and cannot become ‘like us.’ Being ‘us,’ after all, cannot be learned in this reading of peoplehood, you have to be born into it.

One example was a tweet from a county representative of the new political party Alternative für Deutschland (AfD), using this photograph of Sitting Bull to state “The Indians could not stop immigration. Now they live on reservations.” This  summer 2014 tweet comments that, if immigration into Germany continues, Germans will end up being strangers in their own country in the same way.

afd-tweet auf focus.de(source: www.focus.de)

An even worse example is a YouTube clip featuring the leading figure of the Green Party, Claudia Roth, who encounters a (stereotypically clad) Cherokee “exchange student” in Berlin. Offering her German citizenship on the spot (and thus indicating that the Greens will naturalize any foreigner for the sake of multiculturalism), Roth learns that the Cherokee girl intends to go back home. The girl then tells Roth, who inquires about her experience as an ethnic minority, that her people had once lived by themselves and in peace when strangers appeared on their shores. Her leaders (symbolized by Sitting Bull again, curiously) initially invite the strangers in because they like multiculturalism. As the newcomers multiply, the leaders (i.e., Sitting Bull) argue that the newcomers have not yet been integrated into Native culture well, and that Natives should adapt. This is a current argument in German society, with some conservatives and most on the right wing claiming that immigrants should adapt to German Leitkultur (leading, or guiding culture) and claiming that liberals (represented here by Roth) would rather have Germans abandon their Germanness than demand that immigrants assimilate. Leitkultur suggests that Germanness can be learned, after all. The problem with this is that, for most of these arguments, even if the immigrants tried to “learn Germanness” by assimilating, they would still be subject to racism: if you have dark skin, you will be considered a stranger, no matter if your Bavarian dialect is your first language and you can recite the entire first part of Goethe’s Faust from memory.

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When the young warriors in the Cherokee girl’s story are finally fed up and take a stand, it is too late and the Natives are massacred and pushed off of their land to Oklahoma. Here we have the motif of standing up to your traitorous leaders to protect your people that is en vogue among many neo-Nazis. Interestingly, the Cherokee girl repeatedly argues that Cherokee want to be “among ourselves” which is why she says “we recently expelled the blacks” (the Cherokee Freedmen) from the tribe. Again, to be “among ourselves” means that “the other” does not belong simply on the grounds of their, quasi species-specific, otherness.

At this point, the Roth character angrily intercepts and accuses the Cherokee girl of racism for expelling blacks. Eventually, Roth summons a ”black bloc” antifascist militant (she actually calls for “Antifa-Schutzstaffel”a clear reference to the SS and to many conservatives’ claim that antifascists/antiracists are the same as Nazis) and has him beat up the Cherokee girl for being a racist. As the beating goes on, Roth concludes: “We antifascists are the most tolerant people there are, but if someone disagrees with us, the fun is over. You got that, damn Indian rabble?”

In this clip, the Cherokee are portrayed as righteously xenophobic racists who, simply wanting to be “among ourselves,” suffer first from Euro-American immigration/colonization and then from the presence of African Americans. They expel African Americans from the tribe because anybody qualifying as “not us,” as “the other,” should stay out simply because their “otherness” is inherent and irreconcilable, meaning: cultures don’t mix without conflict. The entire story promotes this stance as a defensive, protective measure, apparently proven right by the dreadful history of frontier conflict. The xenophobic rationale for the German context behind it is clear, especially since the clip’s opening soundtrack is Middle-Eastern music and the scene is set on Alexanderplatz, Berlin’s central square, symbolizing Berlin as one of the places with the highest percentage of immigrants in the country. So, both in terms of frontier history and of seeking to keep out the black ‘other,’ the Cherokee girl stands for a conservative and völkisch notion of peoplehood, and Claudia Roth for liberals who seek to destroy German culture and peoplehood through multiculturalism, as signified by a term currently very popular in these völkisch and xenophobic debates: Volksverräter (roughly: a betrayer of one’s own people/nation).

UPDATE: Another Project Soon to be Completed: Essay Collection “Poetics of Politics”

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Over the course of this year, quite a few mid- and long-term projects I have been involved with will be completed. The first of these is titled “Poetics of Politics.” It started as a conference our research initiative organized at Leipzig University in June 2013 (The conference website holds video clips of most of the presentations). In the meantime, our conference participants and a few additional contributors have further developed their ideas on the interrelation between a presumed recent ‘political turn’ in literature and a ‘poetic turn’ in politics. The resulting essay collection will be published at Heidelberg’s University Press “Winter Verlag” in late April.

For more information (including a table of contents), check out our research initiative’s book page, or Winter’s website, or the book blurb at Amazon.de. More events soon: a few conferences and some time in May, eventually, the monograph Fellow Tribesmen hot off the printing press!

UPDATE May 2015: The collection Poetics of Politics has been published in late April. We are glad that this project emerged out of a very successful symposium and that the subsequent book took less than two years to compile and edit. We will be proud to have the book on the table during the upcoming annual meeting of the German Association of American Studies in Bonn.

New Year Special: Fun Facts on Hitler

I have meant to write this post for a long time. Christmas holidays this year seemed like a good opportunity. The post, though, doesn’t have much to do with Christmas, or New Year’s. It actually doesn’t even provide a list of fun facts on Hitler. However, Hitler is the lead for the following deliberations. And his name still makes for catchy titles. As German journalists say, children, animals, sex, and Hitler will always sell. You only need to check out title pages of magazines such as Der Spiegel or Stern. (I guess it is not much different in US journalism). If you found this post because of Hitler’s name in the title, my plan worked. Welcome. Besides, it means that colleagues who suggested I change the title of my forthcoming book from Fellow Tribesmen to Chief Hitler or Hitler’s Indians had a point. However, I am still convinced the book’s title is good as it is since it is by no means about Hitler’s perception of Native Americans alone. Nor is this post.

This entry is about an article in the Washington Post, published on 27 November 1940. Titled “Wer niemals narrisch war (He who has never been silly)” [this was before the era of gender neutral terms], it is part of the popular syndicated series On the Record by Dorothy Thompson. Thompson was one of the leading female journalists in the United States during the early 20th century and had spent several years in Germany during the 1920s and early 1930s. She was also the first foreign journalist to be kicked out of Germany for criticizing the Nazis. The article discusses Hitler’s alleged attempt to outlaw the public use of Saxonian dialect because, apparently, “it made the German people seem ridiculous.” I say alleged because I never had the chance to follow-up Thompson’s claim and check my facts on this. So, I don’t know whether Hitler really tried to outlaw Saxonian dialect or whether he even suggested it. I don’t recall coming across discussions of Saxonian dialect while researching collections of Hitler’s speeches for my dissertation. And here, my post’s title finally falters, because we don’t know if, while funny, this is really a “fact” about Hitler. Bear with me, though.

I found this article while researching American newspapers for discussions of German Indianthusiasm during the Nazi era in 2007. I used the database ProQuest Historical Newspapers which holds a number of American daily newspapers, digitized and available for full-text search, from their first issues. This means you can conduct a full text research of New York Times issues from the 1860s. I still marvel about the simplicity of this research instrument: I only had to type in the search terms “Indian” and “Nazi,” specify my period of interest (1925-1945) and came up with the most remarkable articles. I had to refine my search because there were so many articles about Gandhi, and about Indianapolis, that were not pertinent for my research (I forgot how the city was related to Nazis, but it came up quite often).

Still, ProQuest led me to a number of gems. Particularly because the article’s titles would never suggest anything pertinent to Indians and Nazis, such as Thompson’s. Full text search functions made it possible. I cannot help but wonder what other gems I would have found if German newspapers had been digitized and available for full-text search, as well. Instead, I had to rely on the Internationale Bibliographie der deutschen Zeitschriftenliteratur, called Dietrich after the publishers, and on the indexing criteria of their editors. They indexed 90,000 articles from 5000 periodicals including daily newspapers, academic journals, weekly magazines, and single issue magazines (on topics such as hunting, medicine, and gardening) in 1940. For my research, I located some 1200 articles via Dietrich, but I also found a number of great sources by browsing in magazines, newspapers, and articles, leading me to wonder about Dietrich’s selection criteria.

Back to Thompson and Saxonian dialect, though. Thompson speaks of “Saxonian,” other sources of “Saxon,” I’ll stick to her version for now. First, Thompson explains to her American audience the significance of Saxony and the Saxonians’ dialect in German culture: “The Saxonians are not, by nature, soldiers and administrators but sober folks whose lives are industrial and commercial.” I like to tell my American friends that the difference between Saxonians and Prussians in history was that Saxonians invested their money in building marvelous palaces and filling them with marvelous things, while the Prussians invested theirs in armies to plunder Saxonian (and other) palaces. This is a bit harsh and overgeneralizing but that seems to be the gist of Saxonian history.

I once saw a satirical sketch on TV in which a Saxonian is invited by the Federal Government during the 1990s to come to Berlin and tell the leaders what Saxonians, their recently re-acquired constituents, are about. This Saxonian character rattles off a long list of wars in which Saxonians weren’t too lucky with their alliances: “To our friends, we are trouble. In the Seven Years War (1756-63), we sided with Austria and Russia against Prussia, and we lost. In 1806, we believed Prussia was great so we sided with them against Napoleon, and we lost. So, we thought Napoleon was a great guy, and went to Russia with him in 1812, and we lost. We even lost a major battle in our city of Leipzig in 1813 (against Prussia, Austria, and Russia). In 1866, we went with Austria against Prussia again, and lost the Battle of Königgrätz. As for 1914-1918, the end of that story is well-known. In 1939-1945, we went with the Nazis, and lost as well. So we thought, ‘the Communists have won the war, we should go with them.’ Today, Communism has become extinct and we’ve lost again. And now,” the Saxonian told the German chancellor, “we’re with you guys.” And that’s when they angrily chased him out of Berlin. So, given our historical ill luck in soldiering and making alliances, it is no wonder that Thompson says “Saxonians, it is clear, are not a breed of heroes, but, alas, of babbits.”

Thompson adds that there is a “tolerant myth in Germany that the Saxonians are stupid.” It is surprising to hear that this was an issue in the 1930s already, for it certainly is true today. Ever since the Fall of the Wall, if you want to make fun of East Germans, and if you want to portray East Germans as stupid, babbity, and backward, you imitate Saxonian dialect (to the detriment of Thuringians and North East German coast dwellers, who are thus conveniently lumped together with us). I once explained this cultural malpractice of portraying East Germans as stupid Saxonians to fellow graduate students in Tucson. One of my friends put her arms around her lover and said: “Oh, he knows what you’re talking about, he’s from West Virginia.” Over and over again, newspapers and TV stations publish surveys stating that Saxonian is the least popular dialect in German. You get the picture. However, Thompson adds in her description that Saxonians, albeit being perceived as stupid, shrewdly put this reputation to their advantage by “presenting themselves as innocent idiots.”

Thompson’s examples of the hilarity of Saxonian dialect, and her depictions and explanations for an American audience are awesome, especially for a Saxonian who knows the dialect and has been the butt of jokes about it. It’s a shame that you have to read this, rather than have somebody perform the pronunciations for you. Thompson uses her examples to mark Saxonian dialect as “full of ‘bulls,’” as “skeptical,” and as “the idiom of debunking” that is “a caricature of all that is sophisticated and highfalutin.” So true. The high German term “Die Blüte der Kultur,” which she translates as “the flowering of culture” (I’d say something like heyday or prime of culture) would be pronounced by a Saxonian as “Die bleete de kerltur,” Says Thompson. She adds: “immediately culture bleats rather than blooms.”

I find this a perfect observation and example, both of the pronunciation and what it does to the conveyed meaning of what is said. I should add, though, that Thompson missed some of the signature elements of Saxonian pronunciation: We round our consonant’s edges: t, k, and p will mostly be pronounced as d, g, and b. Our vowels are usually diphthongs: o is mostly ou, e pronounced more often as ey, and so forth. Check this wikipedia entry for more technical information on the dialect. A British plumber I once met at a bar in Leipzig told me it was especially these diphthongs that revealed to him how close relatives Saxonian and Anglo-Saxon are. I don’t know if a linguist would agree, but my friend’s reasoning sounded convincing.

Regardless of the fine points of Saxonian pronunciation, Thompson is right on the money saying “[t]he reason that Saxonian has become the stage language of broad comedy lies precisely in its capacity to pull down to earth everything that is romantic, overblown, boastful, heroic.” A Saxonian lover, “apostrophizing his adored,” she says, “will begin by likening her to a gazelle and end by rapturously calling her his little iltis. It is a sweet-sounding word, but an iltis is a polecat.” I can confirm that I have never called a woman an iltis, so this may have been a term specific to the era – I wouldn’t be surprised, though, if my grandfather said things like that; he had some very funny-sounding nicknames for my grandma.

In any case, Thompson’s gist should become clear, especially when she goes on to relate anecdotes about Friedrich August III, the last Saxon king who, as popular lore has it, told revolutionaries in 1918 when they demanded his abdication, “Nu, macht doch Euern Dreck aleene!” (Thomson translates this as “Okay! Do the dirty work by yourselves.”). Refusing to go into exile and living out the rest of his days as a citizen in Saxony, he is said to have reprimanded a crowd cheering him in the 1920s: “And a fine set of Republicans you are! Ought to be ashamed of yourselves.” The wiki entry on him linked above provides slightly different translations than Thompson’s.

None of these quotes can be verified by historical sources, but the fact that Saxonians are still proud of these stories today proves Thompson’s point:“It is very hard to pin anything on a Saxonian because he is so ‘dumb.’ It’s never clear whether he really means his irony. His ‘dumbness’ is his excuse. His sabotage of the great abstractions is expressed in mere inflection – or a contempt of vowels.” This was true for Thompson’s observation in the 1930s, and it still works today. Comedians such as Uwe Steimle and Olaf Schubert have brought the unreliable dumbness of the Saxonian to perfection, both in their attire, their facial expressions, their topics, and the way they wear their dialect and its accompanying cultural reputation on their sleeves.

Thompson is very clever in using the Saxonians’ reputation against the Nazis, invoking some of Hitler’s idols: Wagner, Nietzsche, and Karl May, all of whom were Saxonians. She remarks on Wagner’s and Nietzsche’s “revolting from the ‘common people,’ the Babitty atmosphere that surrounded them” and that had an impact on Europe but apparently not on Saxony because “at home, in their slippers, Wagner and Nietzsche both spoke dialect. When the two now-acknowledged harbingers of the Third Reich fell out with each other in a quarrel that shook the world of international culture, they probably fell out in Saxonian.” I am very grateful to Thompson for putting the image of Nietzsche and Wagner having an argument in Saxonian in my head. Although, to be fair, it should be said that, today, Nietzsche is not so much considered as a harbinger of the Third Reich anymore among historians. One of the reasons Nietzsche and Wagner fell out with each other is that Nietzsche couldn’t stand Wagner’s anti-Semitism.

Thompson muses that Saxony produced all three geniuses, who imagined popular dream worlds, but that it probably could only be Saxony to “furnish a comfortable world in which genius could compose, flagellate and dream.”

This leads her to her attack on Hitler: “I have a hunch that Hitler’s rage against Saxonian is really a rage against the Common Man, whose unheroic desire for a small comfortable life – flowers in the window, a secure job, home and family, a canary, a daughter who plays the piano, and a lot of food – is so stubborn and so very un-Nazi. ” In this description of the Saxonian as the “Common Man”, she basically matches most of the traits Americans at the time might have agreed upon as an American ideal: to live a simple, good life far away from any government activity. She portrays Saxonians as actually closer to American ideals than to those of the Nazis.

In Thompson’s perspective, “it isn’t that the Saxonian spirit is rebellious. It is just infuriatingly unmartial and skeptical.” Because they are so “infuriatingly unmartial,” Saxonians singing the Horst Wessel Lied or “’Today we own Germany, tomorrow the whole world’ … would frighten no one.” I do not agree with her jape that Saxonians could not produce really good Nazis. Saxonians did their share to make these twelve years as miserable to the whole world as they were. This example illustrates how the attribution of group character traits most likely produces overgeneralizations that can, and will – back then as much as today – be used for either aggrandizement or defamation of these groups, be it notions of the babbity of the Saxonians, of the backstabbing deviousness of the Jews, the diligence and perfectionism of the Germans, or of the inherent zealous warmongering of the Muslims. However, to go back to Thompson’s notion of Saxonians and Nazis, the public reputation of Saxonians and their dialect does, indeed, not seem to be reconcilable with the heroism, militancy, and bombast of Nazi propaganda.

Comparing the features of Saxonian dialect with “the Bostonian ‘a,’ the Middle Western ‘r,’ the Southern vowels,” Thompson launches into a linguistic history of the English language. She details the various languages English borrowed from, and lists a number of very diverse writers who published in English, claiming that all these incorporations, borrowings, and simplifications have made English the “only world language since Latin. This way, not Hitler’s, is imperial, in the transcendental sense of the word.”

The article’s grand finale returns to Hitler’s claim that Saxonian dialect endangers the Germans’s reputation throughout the world: “Hitler argues that the German language, if it cannot be pure, must never be ridiculous. But the cramped effort of man never to be ridiculous can only end in the most gargantuan and ridiculous caricature of man ever drawn. ‘Wer niemals narrisch war, er ist der grösste Narr’ (He who has never been silly is the silliest of all).” Thompson’s final sentences suggest that the suppression of Saxonian dialect, if the rationale behind it was to be taken serious and the ideas would be followed through, would suppress all other dialects and public expressions until only one man, Hitler, is left speaking: “Perhaps all the rest can sing – in one of those gigantic Wagnerian choruses. Or perhaps the rest is silence.”

I wholeheartedly agree with Thompson’s notion on the political power and the double meaning of silliness in this wonderful example. As a historical document, her article brilliantly deconstructs how silly the Nazis’ arguments on culture actually were, especially in their attempts to be anything but silly. This article is also, in a way, timeless, and not simply because Saxonian dialect is still considered silly and its speakers as stupid. Especially in the realm of politics, a bit of silliness is often the best way to bear the rhetoric, logical, and polemic garbage that political leaders (and those who professionally report on our leaders’ activities) dish out every day,  be it in Europe, the United States, or elsewhere. Maybe that’s one of the reasons why the Daily Show and Colbert Report are more popular sources of information than some of the news shows they mock. I’m glad to live in a society where one can call on the silliness of leaders, without having to fear the reprisals the Nazis held in stock for anybody deemed disloyal. Still, leaders’ silliness as an affliction is not restricted to the most oppressive regimes. We face it every day.

So, thanks for tuning in, I’ll go watch a few silly YouTube clips now, or maybe read a few politicians’ speeches. In Saxonian.

Lecture on Milblogs in Omaha and Research on Veteran Organizations in St. Louis

A few days ago on 3rd December, I have held my last lecture on this trip. While the earlier lectures discussed my work on German perceptions of Native American cultures and promoted the forthcoming book, this talk presented some of my current work on deployed soldiers’ milblogs. This guest lecture was hosted by University of Nebraska, Omaha’s English Department and the Office of Military and Veteran services.

I met Dr. Charles Johanningsmeier, who invited me to Omaha, during his Fulbright year at American Studies Leipzig in 2007. Since then, we have kept in close contact and frequently worked together. Omaha is very dear to me, for the friends and colleagues I know here but also because this is where I held my first lecture when my dissertation project took shape in 2007.

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Last week’s lecture provided an overview of the interdisciplinary methodology of the project and contextualized Native American military traditions before launching into a close reading of an American soldier’s milblog from Afghanistan. I pointed out different elements of ceremonial storytelling in the interaction between deployed soldiers and civilian audience. Some of these textual elements led back to the presentation on “tribute and memorial posts” I held at the 2014 ASA convention in Los Angeles. Similar to my reflections on the longue dureé in Indianthusiasm for teaching due to the lectures on Nazis and the GDR that I held over the course of only one weekend in Oklahoma in late October, this lecture helped me approach the topic of death and mourning in milblogs from different angles, discuss it with a diverse audience, and thus extend the scope of my work from the ASA presentation in early November. This widened perspective will help me tackle another chapter of the blog project in the coming year.

Apart from the academic values gained from this final lecture, it was fascinating to observe the environment in which the event took place. The lecture was held at UNO’s Community Engagement Center, a brand-new building dedicated to community outreach. The audience was thus both “gown” and “town,” comprised of students of both English and Native studies courses, veterans, and members of the Omaha community. As my colleagues told me, UNO was recently rated the best four-year college in veteran services by the Military Times. It was thus particularly interesting to observe and discuss veterans’ affairs at this institution. This also brought back discussions and observations from last year’s conferences at UC Santa Barbara and Copenhagen where many discussions and presentations centered around the question of college veteran services, student veterans, and the role of the humanities in veteran reintegration.

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Similar questions recurred during the last few days when I met with colleagues and representatives of veteran groups, such as The Mission Continues. The Mission Continues has recently become one of the best-known veteran support groups. They focus on community service and volunteerism as its founders have realized that many veterans are eager to continue serving and that volunteerism, i.e., helping others, helps veterans to help themselves in their efforts to reintegrate into civil society. I became interested in groups like TMC when looking at the warrior philosophy of Native American military traditions and their strong focus on ceremonialism, community relationships, and mutual aid. Native studies scholars argue that “warriorhood” is anchored in perpetual community relationships, while “soldiering” in the ‘Western’ sense is more perceived as playing a social role. The community engagement of The Mission Continues reminds me of relationships in changing tasks (from fighting to, say, charity or care-giving) known from native warrior philosophy.

Since both Native scholars and military psychologists have argued that ceremonialism and community relationships  might support the reintegration of non-Native veterans and could play a role in working through their traumatic experiences, I have begun looking beyond milblogs to find other non-Native efforts to implement community and ceremony in my research during this year. The Mission Continues is a very good example for such efforts. Getting together with TMC representatives as well as social sciences scholars from Washington University and Lindenwood University in the St. Louis area helped me explore these veteran groups’ efforts. Their information and advise provided valuable social science perspectives for my project. I will continue to look into this and similar projects, although they are not deployed soldiers’ narratives, to look for ceremonialism and community interaction as ingredients for reintegration.

How Living in a Bubble Affects Students’ Perceptions of Native Americans

On 20 November, I was invited to present in an Indigenous Human Rights course for first year students in Applied Indigenous and Ethnic studies at Northern Arizona University, Flagstaff. The students’ response to my discussion of Native American imagery in Germany, as well as the Nazis’ utilization of these images for ideology-driven propaganda, helped me further to put some of my experiences on this lecture and research tour into perspective. In a sense, this posts continues some ideas from the previous one on American Exceptionalism.

Some students wondered in how far German hobbyists were aware that their activities, their expressions of affinity for Native cultures, actually helped perpetuate stereotypes. I must say I was surprised about the question because my presentation had emphasized the complexity of German perceptions of Native America, rather than simply proclaiming that Germans did not tell the ‘true story’ of Native American cultures. My work is less concerned with whether or not representation is stereotypical but how images are used for identity formation and “othering.” Yet, the many lectures in diverse settings (conferences, classrooms, general public) on this tour, as well as my observations during the ASA convention in early November, gave me better insight into the – often very different – perspectives of Native, Euro-American, and European students on Native America.

This point was brought home during a hike in the shadow of the San Francisco Peaks near Flagstaff. talking about working conditions and classroom experience, two colleagues from the Applied Indigenous studies program pointed out to me  that many non-Native students grow up in social “bubbles” – their social environment as well as their school education shield them from the often brutal social realities many Native students face, both in urban and reservation settings. They rarely meet Native children or see their living conditions, and history and social studies education tends to avoid addressing the “dark” side of American history and race relations so they tend noit to learn about these issues in school.

While it is true that there are Native professors and famous writers and artists, many Native children still grow up in poverty, experience alcohol and drug abuse in their communities, are asked by their non-Native fellow students whether they grew up in a tipi once they enter the university, or have to explain why so many Native people do not feel ‘honored’ by the Washington Redskins.

Non-Native American students do not learn much about the Native perspective on frontier history before college and, if they don’t grow up near a reservation, it is unlikely that they are confronted with social realities and hardships of contemporary Native America. College instructors (and Native students) thus often have to explain the basics and deconstruct stereotypes that have prevailed in American perceptions of Native America for centuries.

Conversations like these helped me get a better perspective on the issue: I have known about these stereotypes since childhood, have seen them deconstructed since I went to school in Germany, and have studied their effects in college. Yet, as a German observer of (Native) American culture, I am still an outsider looking in: I sometimes experience these stereotypes in my German classrooms and my research, but I don’t have to fight a constant uphill battle confronting them on my way to school or in my neighborhood. I don’t face discrimination on the job market, nor am I getting racially profiled by law enforcement because of them.

In addition, as a European scholar, I know about these problems because I am interested in studying them and because European traditions in high school and college education tend to discuss these problematic social and ethnic issues of American culture and society. Many American students, however, grow up in these comfortable and protected bubbles (mostly by no fault of their own) that rarely force them to confront social problems and critically analyze the complex social realities of their own country. And here, we are back to James Loewen’s critical assessment of Social Studies and American history courses at high school level. Not only does the overt patriotism in many textbooks paint American history as a rose-colored (better: red, white, and blue) sequence of success stories, it seems that the era of political correctness contributed to the situation by avoiding problematic issues altogether (such as massacres in the 19th century, or ongoing poverty on the reservations today), focusing instead on positively portrayed examples of racial harmony.

To give you one example: An editor for my book project Fellow Tribesmen asked me to contextualize my reference to J.F. Cooper’s Leatherstocking Tales in my manuscript more detail. I wondered if this wasn’t a waste of ink, since we could assume that the Last of the Mohicans was common knowledge? My editor replied that these novels are no longer taught in many schools because of their stereotypical depiction of Native people. I’m still perplexed about this decision – for once, these novels comprise classic American literature that set the stage for an entire, genuinely American genre. Why not teach them and put them in perspective? To keep talking about race relations, wouldn’t this be a perfect opportunity to teach the role and effect of stereotyping and othering, even at high school level? Wouldn’t it be great to show how Euro-Americans learned to differentiate Native peoples into ‘noble’ and ‘brutal savages’ in the early 19th century, and how these depictions led to notions of Manifest Destiny? Couldn’t these examples serve as springboards to discuss othering and cultural stereotypes in contemporary American society, and wouldn’t they help explain current social problems?

I have often wondered about angry outbursts from Native colleagues and students regarding this situation, or about surprised student’s reactions that many Europeans know about frontier history, Indian removal policy, assimilation pressure, and cultural appropriation, that many Europeans root for the ‘Indians,’ instead for the cowboys, in Western movies. Given the perpetuating realities of these separate bubbles of poverty, social struggle, and ignorance, I have developed a better understanding in the last few weeks why many Native students and faculty appear so frustrated with the situation and why they perceive it as a never-ending, exhausting uphill battle. This is a major realization I take home from this trip.

Questioning American Exceptionalism: A Class Discussion on the Nazis’ Propaganda Regarding US-Indian Policy

On Monday, 17th November, I presented aspects of my work to a class at Arizona State University in Tempe (Phoenix). Professor Donald Fixico kindly invited me to address his course “American Indian History since 1900” (HST 338). I explained how the German image of Indians was shaped by fiction and Wild West shows and how it interrelated with emerging group identities and nationalism in German philosophy and academia. These explorations provided a foundation for discussions of Nazi ideology and corresponding utilization of the “noble savage” image for Nazi propaganda. Nazi representations of Indian imagery portrayed Germans as natural-born warriors who shared many character traits with Native Americans and who experienced a similar history of military and cultural oppression by the “Western” colonial powers.

It was exciting to see the students’ reaction to these political implications of constructed imagery. One student immediately contextualized the presentation with Benedict Anderson’s Imagined Communities, although I hadn’t mentioned Anderson in the talk. Another student wondered how German soldiers in World War II experienced Native GIs, nailing a prominent paradoxon I encountered throughout my research: The sources are, at best, anecdotal – I had hoped to do more oral history with German veterans on this topic, but my project came a bit too late for that. In any case, it would have been very hard to locate German veterans who could verify an encounter with Native soldiers (and it would have been a gamble how much their memories of this encounter would have helped my research, for they’d have ample reason not to be too truthful about it).

So, I could only respond by sharing anecdotes from earlier scholarly works on the Native American WWII experience (such as Kenneth Townsend’s, Jere Franco’s, and Al Carroll’s books): a German soldier handing back a medicine pouch to a Native POW because he knew from Karl May that it was dishonorable to take a warrior’s medicine away, or a story about Native members of the 45th Infantry division who helped “pacify” a German POW camp in Italy by exploiting the “brutal savage” image: They walked around the camp, seemingly singling out German prisoners for scalping and torture at the stake, and thus terrifying them into submission.

One question echoed student responses from earlier presentations in San Francisco and Oklahoma: A student said the talk had made her question American exceptionalism more than ever. Again, this harks back to James Loewen’s observation on the rose-colored, overtly patriotic, and US-centric history education in many high-school level history textbooks. It is enlightening to see this transatlantic comparison challenging students to critically engage their own history (and traditions of teaching history).

However, I made a “note to self” for future discussions to point out that this critical engagement should be but an initial step in “doing history”: While it is necessary that students become aware of “the dark sides” of their own national history, learning about these dark sides from Nazi German sources should result in further critical inquiry: Who criticizes American Indian policy and frontier massacres? It’s German newspapers of the Nazi era, directed by Joseph Goebbels’s propaganda ministry. What motivates Goebbels to issue such directives? It’s the international outrage over the 9 November 1938 pogroms (which the Nazis euphemistically dubbed “Kristallnacht”) and general treatment of Jews in Nazi Germany – to use one example – and is thus a turning of the table, a pointing-fingers game: “Remember Fate of Indians, Nazis Tell Roosevelt,” as the Chicago Daily Tribune observed on 28 October 1938, even before the pogroms. How do the papers pitch this criticism? In the most accusatory manner, because it was a politically very expedient moment to engage in anti-American rants. The Nazis would revert to reserved, even fact-based reporting on US issues as soon as diplomatic interests required to keep the US from becoming too angry with Germany, as in the months after the outbreak of the war and before Pearl Harbor (Phillip Gassert has identified and analyzed a series of alternating phases of reservation and aggression in Nazi German media coverage of US politics and society).

Apart from rightfully questioning American exceptionalism, the most important conclusions we can draw from an observation of the Nazis’ utilization of German Indianthusiasm for anti-American propaganda is that

  • both empires watched each other’s racial policies very closely,

  • both were ready to blame one another for their treatment of minorities, and

  • both had dirty laundry (in terms of racial politics) they didn’t want to see dragged out in the open.

If, as the saying goes, the value of a society can be gleaned from observations on the treatment of its minorities (ethnic, social, and cultural), then this transatlantic comparison offers us insight into the power politics of empires. The way the Nazis tried to turn US-Indian policy into a political weapon to hurt the US’s international reputation and destabilize American society reveals how minority politics can become tools of propaganda in the wrestling matches among rivaling empires.

“Defending the Homeland”: Lecture on Nazi Representations of Native Americans for First-Year Students at San Francisco State University

On 12 November, I was invited to hold a guest lecture in a 150 course on American Indian History in the United States at the American Indian Studies program at SFSU. Dr. Robert K. Collins asked me to share my research on Indian imagery in German nationalist thinking and Nazi ideology with his students. The class was about sixty students strong, with another sixty enrolled online. It was a welcome opportunity to present my work in a teaching environment – most of the classes on Native history I have taught did not cover my dissertation topic, and most of my earlier presentations on the dissertation research were given to an audience of scholars or advanced and graduate students.

I explained the elements of Indian imagery in Germany: the trope of the noble savage (e.g., attributing character traits to self and other, understanding Native peoples as “children of nature” as well as natural-born warriors), and the corresponding notions of a German-Native fellowship that was constructed via a triangular reference between modern Germans, contemporary Native Americans, and ancient Germanic tribes. This entailed a discussion of the recurring fellow tribesmen and common enemy motifs feeding these references. The latter part of the talk explored how the Nazis exploited this traditional perception of Germans and Native Americans as “soul mates” for anti-American propaganda.

The most common reaction from American audiences to my presentations on this topic is utter bewilderment over the bizarre claims with which Germans constructed their alleged fellowship with Native Americans. What struck me as especially exciting during this discussion at SFSU, however, was the way the students applied the lecture’s case examples for comparative applications of “doing history,” as James Loewen calls it in his works on teaching historiography.

Some wondered if, since Germans developed such constructions of fellowship with Native Americans, other Europeans came up with similar constructions? This question immediately touches upon the debate in how far German Indianthusiasm is unique in Europe, as Germans liked to believe during the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Christian Feest, for instance, says it isn’t unique at all. In his “Germany’s Indians in a European Perspective,” he argues that Germans have this prominent position because observers of European perceptions of Native peoples keep coming back to Karl May and other German sources, while French, Czech, Polish, Hungarian, Italian sources and perceptions are right there in the open, they simply are being ignored too often (he also argues that German is a very prominent European language and Germans ranked among the largest immigrant groups, all of which would give them prominence in the perception of relations with North America).

Another student asked whether there was a difference in cultural appropriation and representation between German and American Wild West shows – a great observation of comparative thinking in historical research that might lead to interesting research questions and class discussions about different cultural contexts, perceptions, audience expectations, and cultural practices.

This presentation for an audience of beginning students of (Native) American history thus invited more thorough deliberations on ways and means of teaching, on how to guide students towards applying historical data for follow-up questions,  to help them develop research interests, and on critical contextualization. It will be exciting to compare this class discussion with future presentations’ Q/A sessions on this trip and beyond, both among first-year students, graduates, and the general public, and to implement questions deriving from these sessions for future course designs.