THREE Political reflections during my stay in Vienna
I have evidence that, in general, except in rare cases of talent, a man should not participate in politics before the age of 30, because until that age, a platform is being formed in his mentality from which he can analyze various political problems and define his position on them. Only then, after having acquired a fundamental ideological conception and thereby consolidated his own way of thinking about the various problems of daily life, should or can a man, at least thus formed spiritually, participate in the political leadership of the community in which he lives.
Otherwise, he runs the risk of having to one day change his mind on fundamental issues or of being—against his own convictions—confined to a criterion already superseded by reason and understanding. The first case is very painful for him personally, because if he himself wavers, he can no longer expect the faith of his followers to remain with him as much as before, for whom the Führer’s capitulation means bewilderment and often provokes a certain shame in the face of his political adversaries. In the second case, what occurs is something very common today: To the same extent that the Führer lost his conviction in what he stood for, his dialectic becomes hollow and superficial, while his choice of methods becomes corrupted. While he himself no longer intends to take any serious risks in defense of his political revelations (one does not sacrifice one’s life for a cause one does not profess), the demands he imposes on his coreligionists nevertheless become ever greater and more shameless, to the point of finally sacrificing the last remnant of the Führer’s character and thus descending to the status of a “politician,” that is, to that category of men whose only conviction is their lack of conviction, coupled with arrogant insolence and a highly refined art of lying. If, to the misfortune of honest humanity, such a person ever enters Parliament,
Then we must take for granted the fact that politics for him is reduced only to a “heroic struggle” for perpetual possession of this “bottle” of his own life and that of his family. And the more the wife and children depend on this bottle, the more tenaciously the husband will fight to maintain his parliamentary mandate. Every person with a political instinct is, for that very reason, a personal enemy for him; in every new movement he believes he sees the possible beginning of his ruin; in every man of prestige, another threatening danger.
I must deal carefully with this kind of parliamentary vermin.
Even a person who has reached the age of 30 will still have much to learn in the course of his life, but this will only be a supplement within the framework already determined by the ideological conception initially adopted. The new knowledge he acquires will not represent an innovation of what he has already learned, but rather a process of increasing his knowledge, so that his followers will never have the disappointing impression of having been misled; on the contrary, the visible development of the Führer’s personality will inspire them with complacency, in the conviction that his improvement is benefiting their own doctrine. In their eyes, this constitutes proof of the soundness of the criterion he had held until then.
A Führer who is forced to abandon the platform of his general ideology because he has realized that it was false will act honestly only when, recognizing the error of his judgment, he is prepared to accept all the consequences. In such a case, he must at least renounce all further political action, for, having already erred once on fundamental points of view, he is exposed a second time to the same danger. In any case, he has already lost the right to require, much less the right to demand, the trust of his fellow citizens.
The degree of corruption among the plebs, who for now feel empowered to “act” in politics, demonstrates how rarely they respond in these times to such a test of personal decorum.
Among so many, hardly one can be predestined.
I had certainly been involved in politics more than many others in those days, but I was careful not to act in it; I limited myself to speaking in small circles, addressing issues that captivated me and were a source of constant concern. This way of speaking
Working in a small environment had much to offer, because while it is true that I learned less about “discourse” in this way, I nevertheless came to know people in their morality and in their often infinitely primitive conceptions. During that time, I continued to expand my observations without losing time or opportunity, and it is likely that, in this regard, nowhere in Germany then offered a more favorable study environment than that of Vienna.
*
* *
The concerns of political life in the old Danubian Monarchy generally encompassed broader and more ambitious areas than in Germany at the same time, with the exception of some districts of Prussia, Hamburg, and the North Sea coast. Under the term “Austria,” I refer in this case to that territory of the great Habsburg Empire which, due to its inhabitants of German origin, represented not only the historical basis for the formation of that state, but also, in its entire population, represented that force that, over the centuries, generated cultural life in that political organism with such an artificial structure as the Austro-Hungarian Empire. And as time progressed, the stability of the entire state depended more and more on the preservation of that core.
I don’t want to delve into details here, because that is not the purpose of my book; I simply want to record, within the framework of a thorough assessment, those events that, while being the eternal cause of the decline of peoples and states, also have their significance in our time, in addition to contributing to the foundations of my political ideology.
*
* *
Among the institutions that most clearly revealed – even to the not always open eyes of the provincial – the corrosion of the Austrian monarchy, there was first and foremost the one that was most called to
maintain its stability: the Parliament, or the Reichsrat, as it was called in Austria.
Clearly, the institutional norm of this corporation was rooted in England, the land of “classical democracy.” This entire institution was copied from there and transferred to Vienna, taking care as much as possible to avoid altering it.
In the House of Representatives and the Upper House, the English system of the double chamber celebrated its rebirth; only the “buildings” differed. Barry, in constructing the English House of Parliament from the waters of the Thames, had drawn on the history of the British Empire as inspiration for the ornamentation of the 1,200 niches, consoles, and columns of his monumental architectural creation. Through its sculptures and pictorial art, the English House of Parliament was thus erected as a temple of the nation’s glory.
Here the first difficulty arose in the case of the Vienna Parliament. When the Dane Hansen had completed the last pinnacle of the marble palace intended for the representatives of the people, he had no other recourse than to appeal to classical art to adapt ornamental motifs.
Figures of Greek and Roman statesmen and philosophers embellish this theatrical residence of “Western democracy” and, as a symbolic irony, quadrigas are represented on the top of the building, separating in the four cardinal directions, as a clear expression of what was happening inside Parliament at that time.
The “nationalities” would have regarded the glorification of Austrian history in this work as an insult and a provocation. In Germany itself, still fresh from the battles of the World War, it was decided to consecrate the Reichstag building in Berlin, built by Paul Ballot, with the inscription “To the German People.”
Feelings of profound repulsion gripped me that day when, for the first time, before I was even twenty, I visited the Austrian Parliament to listen to a session of the Chamber of Deputies. I had always detested Parliament, but by no means the institution itself. On the contrary, as a man who loved freedom, I could not imagine any other possible form of government. And precisely for that reason, I was already an enemy of the Austrian Parliament. I considered its way of acting unworthy of the great English prototype. In addition, there was the fact that
that the future of the German race in the Austrian state depended on its representation in the Reichsrat. Until the day universal suffrage by secret ballot was adopted, there was a German majority in the Austrian Parliament, albeit a small one. Even then, the situation had become difficult, because the Social Democratic Party, with its dubious nationalist conduct when it came to vital questions of Germanism, always assumed an attitude contrary to German interests so as not to arouse suspicion among its followers among the other “nationalities” represented in Parliament. Even at that time, Social Democracy could no longer be considered a German party. With the adoption of universal suffrage, German preponderance came to an end, even from a purely numerical point of view. From then on, no obstacle remained to stop the increasing de-Germanization of the Austrian state.
The instinct for national self-preservation had already made me repulsed, for this reason, by that system of popular representation in which Germanism, far from being represented, was actually betrayed. However, this deficiency, like many others, was not attributable to the system itself, but to the Austrian state.
A year of patient observation was enough to radically change my way of thinking about the nature of parliamentarism. Once again, the experimental study of reality kept me from drowning in a theory that, at first glance, seems seductive to many, yet remains among the manifestations of humanity’s decadence.
The democracy of today’s Western world is the precursor of Marxism, which would be inconceivable without it. It is democracy that primarily provides this global plague with the breeding ground from which the epidemic subsequently spreads.
How grateful I am to fate for having allowed me to delve into this question when I was still in Vienna, for, had I been in Germany at that time, it would probably have been explained to me in a rather too simple way. If I had been able to appreciate from Berlin the grotesqueness of this institution called “Parliament,” I might have fallen into the opposite conception, placing myself—not without apparent good reason—on the side of those who saw the well-being of the people and the Empire in the exclusive promotion of the idea of imperial authority.
remaining blind and oblivious at the same time to the times in which they lived and to the feelings of their contemporaries.
This was impossible in Austria. There, one couldn’t so easily slip from one error to another, because if Parliament was useless, the Habsburgs were even less capable.
What worried me most about the issue of parliamentarism was the conspicuous lack of a responsible element. No matter how dire the consequences of a law passed by Parliament may be, no one bears responsibility, nor can anyone be held accountable. Or can it be called assuming responsibility when, after an unprecedented fiasco, the guilty government resigns, or the existing coalition changes, or, finally, Parliament is dissolved? Can a wavering majority be held responsible? Doesn’t the idea of responsibility presuppose the idea of personality?
Can a government leader be held practically responsible for actions whose management and execution are exclusively at the discretion of a plurality of individuals?
Or is the ruler’s mission – rather than the conception of constructive ideas and plans – rather the skill with which he strives to make the genius of his projects understandable to a flock of sheep, only to then have to beg them for kind approval?
Does a statesman’s criterion include possessing the art of persuasion to the same degree, on the one hand, and the political acumen necessary to adopt directives or make major decisions, on the other?
Does the mere fact that he has not been able to win the majority vote of a conglomerate resulting from more or less honest dealings in favor of a certain idea prove the incapacity of a Führer?
Was this conglomerate ever able to understand an idea before its success revealed the grandeur it embodied?
Is not every brilliant action in this world a palpable protest of genius against the indolence of the masses?
What should a ruler who fails to gain the favor of that conglomerate do to achieve his plans?
Should he bribe? Or, taking into account the stupidity of his fellow citizens, will he have to give up on carrying out his purposes?
recognized as vital, resign from the government or remain in it, despite everything?
Is it not true that in such a case, the man of true character is faced with an insoluble conflict between his conviction of necessity and his sound judgment, or rather his honesty?
Where does the boundary between the notion of duty to the community and the notion of duty to one’s own personal dignity end here?
Shouldn’t every Führer truly refuse to be demoted to the status of a political trafficker in this way?
Or is it that, conversely, every trafficker should feel predestined to “speculate” in politics, since the supreme responsibility will never fall on him, but on an anonymous and elusive conglomerate of people?
Above all, will not the principle of the parliamentary majority lead to the demolition of the Führer-idea?
But is it still possible to accept that the world’s progress is due to the mentality of the majority and not the brains of a few?
Or is it believed that perhaps in the future this prerequisite inherent to human culture could be dispensed with?
Doesn’t it seem, on the contrary, that she is more necessary today than ever?
It would be difficult for a reader of the Jewish press to imagine, unless he had learned to discern and examine things independently, the havoc wreaked by the modern institution of parliamentary-democratic government; it is above all the cause of the incredible extent to which the whole of political life has been inundated by the most unqualified of our times. Just as a true Führer will renounce political activity, which largely consists not in constructive work but rather in bargaining for the favor of a parliamentary majority, the small-minded politician, on the other hand, will be attracted precisely to such activity.
But the consequences will soon be felt if such mediocre people compose a nation’s government. There will be a lack of fortitude to act, and people will prefer to accept the most shameful humiliation rather than rise to a resolute stand, for there will be no one there who, on their own, is personally willing to risk everything for the implementation of a radical measure.
There is a truth that should not and cannot be forgotten: that is that in this case too, a majority will not be capable of replacing the personality.
in government. The majority not only always represents ignorance, but also cowardice. And just as 100 dumbheads don’t make a wise man, 100 cowards never make a heroic decision.
The less serious the responsibility that weighs on the Führer, the greater the number of those who, endowed with minimal capacity, believe themselves equally called upon to put their immeasurable powers at the service of the nation. Hence, they rejoice in the frequent change of officials in the positions they desire and celebrate any scandal that reduces the ranks of those waiting ahead…. The consequence of all this is the frightening rapidity with which changes occur in the most important offices and public departments of such a state body, with a result that always has a negative influence and is often even catastrophic.
The old Austria possessed a parliamentary system to the superlative degree. It is true that the respective “premiers” were appointed by the monarch, however, this meant nothing other than the execution of the parliamentary will. The bargaining over the various ministerial portfolios could now be described as characteristic of the highest Western democracy. The results corresponded to the principles applied; especially the replacement of representative figures occurred at increasingly shorter intervals, eventually becoming a veritable hunt. In the same proportion, the level of the acting “statesmen” declined until nothing remained but the lowly type of parliamentary hustler, whose political merit was assessed only by his skill in forging coalitions—that is, by his willingness to engage in those infamous political maneuvers that are the only test of what these so-called representatives of the people can accomplish in practical work.
Vienna offered a magnificent field of observation in this order.
What we ordinarily call “public opinion” is based only minimally on the individual’s personal experience and knowledge; rather, it depends almost entirely on the individual’s perception of things through persistent and tenacious so-called “public information.” The press is the factor responsible for the greatest volume in the process of “political instruction,” which, in this case, is appropriately called propaganda. The press is primarily responsible for this task of “public information” and thus represents a kind of school for adults, except that this “instruction” is not in the hands of the State, but
under the clutches of elements that are in part of very low quality. It was precisely in Vienna that I had, in my youth, the best opportunity to become thoroughly acquainted with the spiritual owners and creators of this machine of collective education. At first, I must have been surprised to realize the relatively short time in which this pernicious power was able to create a certain climate of opinion, even when dealing with cases of complete mystification of the aspirations and tendencies that undoubtedly existed in the community’s sentiment. In the space of a few days, this press knew how to turn an insignificant matter into a notable matter of state and, conversely, in the same amount of time, relegate vital problems to general oblivion or, more simply, remove them from the memory of the masses.
In this way, it was possible, in the space of a few weeks, to swell names out of thin air and attach incredible public expectations to them, bestowing upon them a popularity that a truly worthy man often fails to achieve in his entire lifetime; and while these names, which a month before had barely been heard spoken, were elevated, distinguished statesmen or figures from other spheres of public life simply ceased to exist for their contemporaries or were so insulted with abuse that their surnames ran the risk of becoming a symbol of villainy or infamy.
This is the rabble that, in more than two-thirds, creates the so-called “public opinion,” from which parliamentarism emerges like an Aphrodite from the foam.
To fully describe the fallacy of the parliamentary mechanism would require volumes. Such a human error, as absurd as it is dangerous, can be more readily and easily understood by comparing democratic parliamentarism with a truly Germanic democracy.
The most remarkable characteristic of democratic parliamentarism is that a certain number of people are elected, let us say 500 men, or more recently women, and they are given the power to make a final decision in each case. In practice, they alone represent the government, for, although they appoint the members of a cabinet charged with the affairs of state, this so-called government is only an appearance; in fact, it is incapable of taking any step without first obtaining the acquiescence of the parliamentary assembly. This is why it cannot be held responsible either, since
The final decision never rests with the cabinet itself, but with Parliament. In any case, such a cabinet is nothing more than the executor of the will of the parliamentary majority at the time. Its political capacity can truly be appreciated only through its skill in adapting to the will of the majority or winning it over.
A logical consequence of this state of affairs flows from the following elementary consideration: the structure of this group of 500 parliamentary representatives, grouped according to their professions or even according to their aptitudes, presents a picture that is both incongruous and pitiful. Or is it possible to admit the hypothesis that these elected representatives of the nation can at the same time be privileged shoots of genius or even common sense? Let us hope that it is not assumed that hundreds of statesmen emerge simultaneously from the ballots cast by voters who are anything but intelligent. The absurd belief that geniuses can emerge from universal suffrage can never be sufficiently refuted. First of all, it must be considered that a true statesman is not always born for a nation, much less a hundred suddenly. On the other hand, the antipathy that the masses feel toward eminent genius is instinctive. It is more likely that a camel will slip through the eye of a needle than that a great man will be “discovered” by virtue of a popular election. Everything that truly stands out from the ordinary in the history of nations usually reveals itself.
Leaving aside the question of the genius of the people’s representatives, simply consider the complex nature of the problems pending resolution, not to mention the different branches of activity in which decisions must be made, and one will then understand the incompetence of a system of government that places the power of final decision in the hands of an assembly, only a very few of whose members possess the requisite knowledge and experience in the matters to be discussed. Thus, the most important economic measures are submitted to a forum nine-tenths of whose members lack the necessary training. The same occurs with other problems, always leaving the decision in the hands of a majority composed of ignorant and incapable people. From this also stems the lightheartedness with which these gentlemen frequently deliberate and resolve issues that would be cause for profound reflection even for the most enlightened talents. Measures of enormous importance for the future of a state such as the Assembly are adopted there.
If it weren’t a question of the destinies of an entire nationality but merely of a game of cards, which would be more appropriate among such politicians. It would, of course, be unfair to believe that every member of such a parliament is endowed with such a scant sense of responsibility. No. Not at all. But the fact is that such a system, by forcing the individual to deal with matters with which he is unfamiliar, gradually corrupts him. No one there has the courage to say: “Gentlemen, I don’t think we understand anything about this matter; at least I don’t have any idea at all.” This attitude wouldn’t change anything either, because, apart from the fact that such a test of sincerity would be completely misunderstood, the others wouldn’t be willing to sacrifice their game for the sake of an honest fool.
Today’s democratic parliamentarianism does not tend to constitute an assembly of scholars, but rather to recruit a multitude of intellectual nonentities, all the more easily manipulated the greater the mental limitation of each of them. Only in this way can partisan politics be carried out in the worst sense of the term, and only in this way do the true agitators manage to remain cautiously in the rearguard, without ever being able to demand personal responsibility from them. No measure, however pernicious for the country, will then weigh on the conduct of a well-known scoundrel, but rather on that of an entire parliamentary faction. This is why this form of democracy also became the instrument of that race whose innermost purposes, now and forever, will fear to be revealed in the light of day. Only a Jew can praise an institution that is as filthy and deceitful as himself.
Opposed to this democratic parliamentarism is the genuine Germanic democracy of the free election of the Führer, who is obliged to assume full responsibility for his actions. Such a democracy does not require a majority vote to resolve each particular issue, but simply the will of a single individual, prepared to answer for his decisions with his own life and property.
If the objection were to be raised that under such conditions it would be difficult to find a man willing to personally sacrifice everything for such a risky undertaking, it would have to be answered: “God be praised that the true meaning of a German democracy lies precisely in the fact that no unworthy careerist or moral ambush can come to the government of its fellow citizens by forbidden means, but that the
The very magnitude of the responsibility to be assumed intimidates the inept and the faint-hearted.”
And if, despite all this, an individual with such characteristics were to try to slip in, he could easily be identified and apostrophized without consideration: “Step aside, coward, so that your feet do not desecrate the steps of the frontispiece of the Pantheon of History, destined for heroes and not for prudes.”
*
* *
He had reached these conclusions after two years of attending the Austrian Parliament.
From then on I never went back to him.
The parliamentary system was one of the main causes of the progressive decline of the former Habsburg state. As the hegemony of Germanism in Austria was destroyed by this system, the exploitation of the antagonism between nationalities intensified.
After the Franco-Prussian War of 1870, the House of Habsburg launched itself with maximum impetus to slowly but relentlessly exterminate the “dangerous” Germanism of the Austro-Hungarian Dual Monarchy. This, then, was to be the final result of the policy of Slavicization. However, the resistance of the nationality that was destined for extermination erupted, and this in a manner unprecedented in contemporary German history. Men of nationalist and patriotic sentiment became rebels, not rebels against the State itself, but rebels against a system of government that they were convinced would lead their own race to ruin.
For the first time in contemporary German history, a distinction was made between general dynastic patriotism and love for the fatherland and the people.
It was to the credit of the Pan-German movement that took place in the German part of Austria, back in 1890, that it clearly and definitively established that the authority of the State has the right to demand respect and cooperation only when it responds to the needs of a nationality or when it is at least not harmful to it.
The authority of the State cannot be an end in itself, because that would mean enshrining the inviolability of all tyranny in the world.
If a nationality is plunged into ruin by the means available to a government, then rebellion is not only a right, but a duty for each of the children of that people.
The question: When does such a case arise? It is not resolved through theoretical dissertations, but through action and success.
Since every government, no matter how bad it may be, even if it has betrayed the interests of a nationality a thousand times, claims for itself the duty to uphold the authority of the State, the instinct of national self-preservation in the struggle against such a government will have to use, to achieve its freedom or independence, the same weapons that it employs to maintain its power. According to this, the struggle will be waged by “legal” means as long as the power being fought does not employ other means; but there will be no hesitation in resorting to illegal means if the oppressor itself employs them.
In general, it should not be forgotten that the supreme purpose of human existence does not lie in the maintenance of a state or a government; its mission is to preserve the race. And if this race itself were in danger of being oppressed or even eliminated, the question of legality becomes secondary. It will then matter little whether the ruling power applies the often-called “legal” means in its actions; instinct, always to the superlative degree, employs every resource.
Only in this way can edifying examples of libertarian struggles against the enslavement – internal or external – of peoples be explained in history.
Human rights take precedence over political rights.
If a people succumbs in the struggle for human rights, it is because, having been weighed in the balance of fate, they have proved too light to have the good fortune to continue existing in the earthly world. For those who are unwilling to fight for their existence, or who do not feel capable of doing so, are already predestined to disappear, and this is done by the eternal justice of providence.
The world was not made for cowardly people.
*
* *
The process of the formation and decline of the Pan-German movement, on the one hand, and the astonishing development of the Christian Social Party in Austria, on the other, must have been a classic object of study and of profound significance to me.
I will begin by drawing a parallel between the two men considered the founders and leaders of these two parties: Georg von Schoenerer and Dr. Karl Lueger.
As personalities, both stood out among the so-called parliamentary figures. Their lives had been clean and blameless amidst widespread political corruption.
At first, my sympathies lay with the pan-Germanist Schoenerer, and soon afterward they gradually shifted toward the Christian Social leader as well. Comparing the abilities of the two, Schoenerer seemed to me to be the more accurate and profound thinker on fundamental issues. With greater clarity and accuracy than anyone else, he foresaw the logical end of the Austrian state. Had his warnings regarding the Habsburg Monarchy, especially in Germany, been heeded, the fate of World War II would never have occurred. But while Schoenerer penetrated the essence of the problems, he erred when it came to assessing the worth of men.
This was the remarkable thing about Dr. Lueger. Lueger was an extraordinary connoisseur of human character, taking great care not to see them as more virtuous than they actually were.
That is why he could count on the effective possibilities of life better than Schoenerer, who had little understanding of this.
In theory, his Pan-Germanism was evident, but he lacked the energy and practice necessary to convey his theoretical conclusions to the masses of the people, that is, to simplify them according to their limited understanding. His conclusions were, therefore, mere prophecies with no basis in reality.
The lack of the ability to distinguish human characteristics must logically also lead to errors in the assessment of the power of movements of opinion as well as secular institutions. Schoenerer had undoubtedly recognized that in this case, these were fundamental conceptions, but he failed to understand that, in the first place, only the great mass of the people could be willing to fight for such almost religious convictions.
Unfortunately, Schoenerer realized only to a very limited extent that the fighting spirit of the so-called “bourgeois” classes was extraordinarily limited by its dependence on economic interests that instilled in individuals the fear of suffering serious harm, thus determining their inaction.
The lack of understanding regarding the importance of the lower strata of the people was also the cause of a completely deficient conception of the social problem.
In all this, Dr. Lueger was the antithesis of Schoenerer. He knew perfectly well that the militant political force of the upper bourgeoisie was so insignificant in our time that it was insufficient to ensure the triumph of a new great movement; therefore, he devoted the maximum of his political activity to the task of winning the support of those social spheres whose existence was threatened, this being more of a spur than a detriment to their militant spirit.
Dr. Lueger also chose to use existing means of influence to gain the support of prestigious institutions in order to extract the greatest possible benefit from these old sources of energy for his cause.
It was in this way that, first and foremost, he cemented his party among the middle class, which was threatened with extinction, and thereby secured a firm group of followers animated by a great spirit of struggle and sacrifice. His extraordinarily shrewd attitude toward the Catholic Church had quickly won him the sympathies of the young clergy to such an extent that the old clerical party was forced to either cede the field or, more prudently, to join the new movement and thus gradually regain its former positions.
However, it would be extremely unfair to consider this alone as the essence of Lueger’s character; for alongside his qualities as a skillful tactician were those of a great and brilliant reformer—indeed, within the framework of an exact knowledge of his own abilities.
This truly worthy man pursued a goal of enormous practical significance. He wanted to conquer Vienna. Vienna was the heart of the monarchy, and it was from this city that the ailing and aging body of the already failing state organism received its last impulses of life. The more that heart recovered its energies, the more the rest of the body should revive.
In principle, the idea was naturally just, but it could only take effect for a certain period of time.
This is where this man’s weak point lay.
The work he accomplished as burgomaster of Vienna is immortal in the best sense of the word; but with it, he could no longer save the monarchy—it was too late.
His opponent Schoenerer had seen this more clearly.
Everything Lueger undertook in the practical field, he accomplished admirably; however, he failed to achieve what he desired as a result.
Schoenerer did not get what he wanted, but what he feared came to pass in a terrible way.
Thus, neither of them succeeded in achieving their ultimate goal. Lueger was unable to save the Austrian monarchy, nor was Schoenerer able to save Germanism in Austria from the ruin that awaited it.
Today, it is infinitely instructive for us to study the causes that led to the failure of those two parties. This is essential, above all, for my friends, given that current circumstances resemble those of that time, in order to avoid making the same mistakes that once led one movement to ruin and the other to fruitlessness.
*
* *
The situation of the Germans in Austria was already desperate at the beginning of the Pan-German movement. Year after year, the German Parliament had become a factor in the slow destruction of Germanism. Any last-minute attempt at salvation, even if only temporary, could only be glimpsed in the elimination of the German Parliament.
And how to destroy parliament? By entering it, to “undermine it from within,” as was commonly said, or by fighting it from without, attacking the very institution of parliamentarism?
To wage the struggle from outside against such a power required indomitable courage and a willingness to make any sacrifice. For this, however, the support of the people’s people was necessary.
The Pan-German movement lacked the support of the popular masses, and therefore had no other solution than to go to parliament itself. It also seemed more feasible to direct the attack at the root of the problem rather than attacking from outside. Furthermore, it was believed that parliamentary immunity would strengthen the security of individual Pan-German figures, increasing the effectiveness of their combative action.
In reality, the events unfolded very differently.
The forum before which Pan-German deputies spoke had not increased; on the contrary, it had actually decreased; for those who speak do so only before an audience that wants to understand the speaker, listening directly or through the press, which reflects what he has said.
The broadest forum, with a direct audience, is not found in the chamber of a parliament. It must be sought in the public assembly, where thousands of people gather for the sole purpose of listening to what the speaker has to say, while in the plenary session of a Chamber of Deputies, only a few hundred people gather, mostly gathered there to collect fees and in no way to be enlightened by the wisdom of one or another of the gentlemen “representatives of the people.”
The Pan-German deputies could become hoarse from so much talking; their efforts were always in vain. And as for the press, it remained deathly silent or mutilated the speeches to the point of making them incongruous and even distorting their meaning, thus providing the public with a terrible synopsis of the essence of the new movement.
More serious than all this was the fact that the Pan-German movement had forgotten that to be successful, it had to recognize from the outset that in its case, it couldn’t be a new party, but rather a new ideological conception. Only something similar would have been capable of generating the inner energy necessary to wage such a gigantic struggle. Only the most qualified and the most resilient were called upon to be the leaders of that ideology.
The unfavorable impression reflected by the press was in no way counteracted by the personal action of the deputies in rallies and
The word “pan-Germanism” eventually acquired a very bad reputation in the ears of the people.
Since time immemorial, the force that drove the great historical avalanches of a political and religious nature was never other than the magic of the spoken word.
The great masses yield above all to the power of oratory. All great movements are popular reactions, volcanic eruptions of human passions and emotional emotions, taught sometimes by the cruel goddess of misery, sometimes by the torch of words launched into the heart of the masses—but never by the syrup of aesthetic writers and salon heroes.
Only a hurricane of fiery passions can change the destiny of nations; but arousing passion is only an attribute of someone who feels the fire of passion within themselves.
Let each writer remain by his inkwell busy with “theories” if his knowledge and talent are sufficient for that: for Führer he was neither born nor elected.
*
* *
The serious controversy that the Pan-German movement had to sustain with the Catholic Church was due to no other cause than a lack of understanding of the emotional character of the people.
The establishment of Czech parishes was just one of the many measures implemented toward the goal of the general Slavicization of Austria. In predominantly German districts, Czech priests were established, who began subordinating the interests of the church to those of Czech nationality, thus becoming driving forces behind the process of Austrian de-Germanization.
Unfortunately, the reaction of the German clergy to such an action was almost nil, so that Germanism was slowly but persistently ousted thanks to the abuse of religious influence, on the one hand, and due to insufficient resistance, on the other.
The general impression could not be other than that of a brutal violation of German rights by the Catholic clergy as such. It seemed, then, that the Church was not only indifferent to the sentiments of German nationality in Austria, but that, unjustly, it went so far as to
to side with their adversaries. As Schoenerer said, the evil was rooted in the fact that the head of the Catholic Church was outside of Germany, which, of course, motivated a marked hostility toward the interests of our nationality.
Georg Schoenerer was not a man to do things by halves. He had taken up the fight against the Church with the profound conviction that only in this way could the fate of the German people in Austria be saved. The separatist movement against Rome (Los-von-Rom Bewegung) appeared to be the most powerful, but at the same time the most difficult, means of attack designed to overcome the enemy’s resistance.
If the campaign was victorious, then the unhappy religious division that existed in Germany would also have come to an end, and thus German nationality would have gained enormous inner strength.
But neither the premise nor the conclusion of that struggle was correct.
While the Czech priest adopted a subjective position toward his people and an objective one toward the Church, the German priest subjectively subordinated himself to the Church and remained objective from the perspective of his nationality; a phenomenon we can unfortunately observe in thousands of other cases. This is not a legacy unique to Catholicism, but rather an evil that among us is capable of quickly corroding almost every state institution or idealistic conception.
Let us compare, for example, the conduct of our state officials regarding the goal of a national revival with the attitude that similar elements in another country would adopt in a similar case. And what standard does the view held today by Catholics and Protestants regarding Semitism offer us, a view that responds neither to national interests nor to the true needs of religion? There is therefore no possible parallel between the conduct of a rabbi in all aspects that have a certain importance for Semitism from a racial perspective and the attitude observed by the majority of our religious leaders, regardless of their denomination, regarding the interests of their race. This phenomenon is repeated whenever it comes to defending an abstract idea.
“State authority”, “democracy”, “pacifism”, “international solidarity”, etc., etc., are all ideas that among us generally become concepts so clearly doctrinal and so inflexible, that
Any judgment regarding the vital needs of the nation is subordinate to them.
Protestantism will always work to promote German interests whenever it concerns moral purity or the enhancement of national sentiment, in defense of German character, language, and independence, since all these notions are deeply rooted in Protestantism itself; but it will instantly react hostilely against any attempt to save the nation from the clutches of its most mortal enemy, and this because the Protestant viewpoint regarding Semitism is more or less dogmatically defined.
As long as the people had resolute leaders during the 1914 war, they fulfilled their duty in an unsurpassed manner. Both the Protestant pastor and the Catholic priest contributed decisively to maintaining the spirit of our resistance, not only on the battlefront, but above all, in our homes. In those years, especially at the outbreak of the war, no other religious ideal dominated in both groups than that of a single, sacred German Empire, for whose existence and future each raised their vows of fervent devotion.
The Pan-German movement must have asked itself a preliminary question from its very beginning: Was it feasible or not to preserve the Germanic heritage in Austria under the aegis of the Catholic religion? If the answer was affirmative, this political party should never have interfered in religious or even confessional matters. If, on the contrary, the answer was negative, then a religious reform should have emerged, but never a political party.
Political parties have nothing to do with religious issues as long as they do not undermine racial morality; likewise, it is inappropriate to involve religion in partisan political maneuvering.
When Church dignitaries use institutions and doctrines to harm the interests of their own nationality, they should never be treated in the same way or fought with the same weapons.
The political Führer must respect the religious doctrines and institutions of a people as inviolable; otherwise, he must renounce being a politician and become a reformer, if he has the capacity to do so.
A different way of thinking, in this order, would lead to catastrophe, particularly in Germany.
Studying the Pan-German movement and its struggle against Rome, I came to the realization at that time, and even more so in later years, that the movement’s lack of understanding of social problems had caused it to lose the support of the truly combative mass of the people. Entering Parliament meant sacrificing its powerful momentum and burdening it with all the inherent flaws of that institution; its actions against the Catholic Church had discredited it in numerous sectors of the middle class and also the lower class, thus depriving it of countless of the nation’s best elements.
*
* *
Where the Pan-German movement made mistakes, the Christian Social Party’s approach was precise and systematic. It recognized the importance of the masses and managed to secure the support of at least a portion of them, publicly emphasizing the social character of its tendency from the outset. It avoided all controversy with religious institutions and was thus able to secure the support of an organization as powerful as the Church. It also recognized the importance of broad propaganda and specialized in the art of influencing the minds of the great mass of its followers.
The fact that, despite its strength, this party was unable to achieve its desired goal of saving Austria is explained by methodological errors in its actions, and also by the lack of clarity in the goals it pursued.
The Christian Social Party’s anti-Semitism was based on religious beliefs, not racist principles. The same determining cause of this first error was the origin of the second. If the Christian Social Party wants to save Austria—its founders argued—it cannot invoke the racist principle, because that would quickly lead to the general dissolution of the state. In the opinion of the party’s leaders, the situation demanded, especially in Vienna, that they avoid as much as possible any divisive influences and instead foster all motives tending toward unification.
Already at that time, Vienna was so saturated with foreign elements, especially Czechs, that when it came to problems
Regarding the racial question, only marked tolerance could keep them loyal to a party that was not anti-German on principle. The goal of saving Austria required not renouncing the participation of these elements; thus, through an opposition struggle against the liberalist system of Manchester, an attempt was made to win over, above all, the small Czech artisans, represented in large numbers in Vienna. It was thought that in this way, above all the racial differences of old Austria, a slogan would be found for the struggle against Judaism from a religious point of view.
It is clear that action against the Jews on such a basis could cause them only relative anxiety, since, in the worst case, a jet of baptismal water was always capable of saving the Jew and his business.
By addressing the issue so superficially, it was never possible to arrive at a serious and scientific analysis of the fundamental problem and only succeeded in alienating many of those who could not conceive of anti-Semitism of this nature.
This half-hearted approach negated the merit of the Christian Social Party’s anti-Semitic orientation. It was a pseudo-anti-Semitism that was more counterproductive than beneficial; it lulled itself into a blithe state of mind, believing it had its opponent by the ears, when in reality it was the opponent who had the other party by the nose.
Had Dr. Carl Lueger lived in Germany, he would have been placed among the foremost leaders of our people, but the fact that he acted in an impossible state like Austria was the ruin of his work and his own. By the time he died, the flames were already raging in the Balkans, so a merciful fate spared him from seeing what he had thought he could avoid.
Determined to find the causes of the inability of one of the movements and the failure of the other, I came to the inner conviction that, apart from the impossibility of even achieving a consolidation of the Austrian State, both parties had committed the following errors: In principle, the Pan-German movement was undoubtedly right in its aim of German regeneration, but it was unfortunate in its choice of methods. It had been nationalist, but, unfortunately, not sufficiently social to win the support of the masses. Its anti-Semitism
It was based on a fair appreciation of the significance of the racial problem, not on religious conceptions. However, its struggle against a particular faith—against Rome—was fundamentally flawed and tactically false.
The Christian Social movement had a vague conception of the goal of a German revival, but as a party it demonstrated skill and success in the selection of its methods; it recognized the importance of the social question, but erred in its struggle against Judaism and had no conception of the power embodied in the nationalist idea.
*
* *
My antipathy toward the Habsburg state grew ever more intense at that time. I was convinced that this state had to oppress and hinder every truly eminent representative of Germanism, and I also knew that, conversely, it encouraged every anti-German manifestation.
Repugnant to me was the conglomeration of races gathered in the capital of the Austrian monarchy; repugnant was that promiscuity of Czechs, Poles, Hungarians, Ruthenians, Serbs, Croats, etc., and, in the midst of them all, like an eternal bacillus dissociating humanity, the Jew, and always the Jew.
All these reasons provoked in me an ever more fervent desire to finally reach there, where since my youth I had been attracted by secret longings and intimate affections.
I hoped to later make a name for myself as an architect and thus offer loyal services to the nation within whatever framework—small or large—that destiny had in store for me. Finally, I aspired to be among those fortunate enough to live and work where my most fervent desire would one day be fulfilled: the annexation of my beloved homeland to our common homeland, the German Reich.
But Vienna must have been and remained for me the toughest and at the same time the most rewarding school of my life. I had arrived in this city when I was still a teenager and I left as a taciturn and serious man. There I assimilated, in general, the foundations for an ideological conception and, in particular, a method of political analysis; subsequently, this knowledge never abandoned me, making no effort to
then nothing else but to complete them. That is why I have dealt here in more detail with that period that provided me with my first material for study, precisely with those problems that are fundamental within our Party, which, emerging from the most modest beginnings, already has today (Hitler wrote his work in 1924), barely five years later, the characteristics of a great popular movement. I do not know what my way of thinking regarding Judaism, Social Democracy—or rather, all of Marxism—the social problem, etc., would be now, if, already in my youth, due to the twists of fate and thanks to my own efforts, I had not managed to cement a solid personal ideological foundation.
