Brecht's Germany
The rise and fall of the Weimar Republic, 1918–33
The republic proclaimed early in the afternoon of Saturday, November 9, 1918, is often called the “accidental republic.” When Friedrich Ebert, the leader of the so-called Majority Socialists, accepted the imperial chancellorship from Max von Baden, it was with the understanding that he would do his utmost to save the imperial system from revolution. Ebert believed that the only way to accomplish this would be by transforming Germany into a constitutional monarchy. Elections would have to be held for a constituent assembly, whose task it would be to draw up a new constitution.
Defeat of revolutionaries, 1918–19
Ebert, however, was faced with a precarious situation. The dangers confronting him were mounting all over the country. Four and a half years of seemingly futile combat and sacrifice had resulted in a disaffection with the war and discredited the imperial system, as well as its emperor. Shortages of food and fuel had rendered the population vulnerable to the influenza epidemic sweeping Europe. On October 18 alone Berlin authorities had reported 1,700 influenza deaths. Independent Socialists in Munich had forced the abdication on November 8 of Bavaria’s King Louis III and proclaimed a Bavarian socialist republic. The port cities along the North Sea and the Baltic Sea were falling into the hands of sailors’ and workers’ and soldiers’ councils (Räte) in the wake of the naval mutiny at Kiel in early November. Karl Liebknecht and Rosa Luxemburg, leaders of the radical Spartacus League, were eager to transform Germany into a republic of workers’ and soldiers’ councils (a Räterepublik) in imitation of the soviet republic being established by the Bolshevik leaders in Russia. As Ebert was accepting the reins of government in the Reichstag building on November 9, Liebknecht was proclaiming a socialist republic at a rally of his own followers in front of the deserted Royal Palace about a mile away. Many Marxist revolutionaries believed that the Bolshevik Revolution was merely the spark that would set off the worldwide proletarian revolution that Karl Marx had predicted. Inevitably, that revolution would have to spread to Germany. Given this ideologically charged scenario, Liebknecht confidently anticipated his destiny to become the German Lenin.
While the Liebknecht rally was proceeding in front of the Royal Palace, an angry crowd was gathering before the Reichstag building, the seat of the government. Because Ebert had just left the building, his friend and fellow Majority Socialist Philipp Scheidemann felt called upon to address the crowd. To meet its inevitable demands for change and to forestall whatever Liebknecht might be telling his followers, Scheidemann in his speech used the phrase “Long live the German republic!” Once made, the proclamation of a republic could not be withdrawn. Ebert was furious when he learned of Scheidemann’s “accidental” proclamation, but he realized that there was no turning back. He spent the afternoon seeking partners to form a provisional government to run the newly proclaimed republic. By nightfall he managed to persuade the Independent Socialists, a party that in 1917 had split from the Majority Socialists over the continuation of the war, to provide three members of a provisional government. To gain their cooperation, Ebert had to agree to name the provisional government the Council of Peoples’ Commissars and to transform Germany into a vaguely defined social republic. Despite this promise, Ebert still hoped that elections to a constituent assembly would lead to the creation of a moderate democratic republic. The Independent Socialists, however, though not as radical as Liebknecht, held to their vision of a socialist Räterepublik. They hoped that workers and soldiers would elect a multitude of councils across the entire country during the following weeks, assuming these would establish the foundation for a genuinely socialist republic.
For the time being, however, Majority and Independent Socialists jointly formed a provisional government for the defeated German nation, which everywhere seemed on the verge of collapse. Although the armistice of November 11 ended the fighting, it did not end the Allied blockade. The winter of 1918–19 brought no relief in the shortages of food and fuel, and the flu epidemic showed no signs of abatement. Soldiers returning from the military fronts by the hundreds of thousands were left stranded, jobless, hungry, and bitter—grist for the mill of revolution.
The push for revolution, led by an enthusiastic Liebknecht and a more reluctant Luxemburg, came on January 6, 1919, encouraged by Soviet Russia and further prompted by fear that Ebert’s plans for the election of a constituent assembly, scheduled for January 19, might stabilize the German situation. The Spartacists, now officially the Communist Party of Germany, initiated massive demonstrations in Berlin and quickly seized key government and communications centres.
The events of “Spartacist Week,” as the radical attempt at revolution came to be known, demonstrated that Germany was not nearly as ripe for revolution as leading radicals had believed. As Luxemburg had feared, mass support for communism did not exist among German workers; instead, most remained loyal to the Independent Socialists or to Ebert’s more moderate and democratic vision of socialism. The German army, moreover, had recovered its nerve and was determined to prevent a further move to the left. In December the army had begun secretly to train volunteer units drawn from the sea of soldiers returning from the front. These so-called Freikorps (“Free Corps”) units formed dozens of small right-wing armies that during the next years roamed the country, looking for revolutionary activity to suppress. The Spartacist revolt, which was confined largely to Berlin, was put down within a week by some 3,000 Freikorps members. When Liebknecht and Luxemburg were captured on January 15, they were both shot at the initiative of Freikorps officers. Although sporadic revolutionary activity continued elsewhere in Germany during the following months, its failure in Berlin clearly marked its doom. The proclamation on April 4, 1919, of a Räterepublik in Bavaria revived radical fortunes only briefly; Freikorps units put down the radical Bavarian republic by the end of the month.
The collapse of the Spartacist revolt greatly enhanced the chances for Ebert’s vision of Germany’s future to prevail. Moreover, the meeting of a national congress of workers’ and soldiers’ councils in mid-December 1918, upon which the Independent Socialists had pinned their own hopes for creating a socialist republic, proved to be far less radical than expected; it did nothing to interfere with Ebert’s plans to elect an assembly to draw up a democratic constitution. The elections on January 19, 1919—the first German election in which women had voting rights—produced a resounding victory for Ebert’s conception of democracy. Three of every four voters gave their support to political parties that favoured turning Germany into a democracy. After months of turmoil Germany was to become a democratic republic. The assembly began its deliberations on February 6, 1919, choosing to meet in Weimar, a small city that was considered less vulnerable to radical political interference than Berlin.
On January 18, 1919, representatives of the powers victorious over Germany began the deliberations in Paris that would establish a European peace settlement. Germany’s new democratic leaders placed high hopes in the prospects for this settlement. U.S. President Woodrow Wilson’s Fourteen Points seemed to promise Germans national self-determination as well as to encourage the efforts to transform Germany into a democracy. When the German constituent assembly met in Weimar for the first time, it immediately declared itself sovereign over all of Germany. It selected a provisional government—with Ebert as president and Scheidemann as chancellor—whose first major task was to prepare for the expected invitation to Paris to negotiate a peace treaty with the empire’s former enemies.
But the invitation for a German delegation to come to Paris did not arrive until early April. Rather than being treated as a fellow—if fledgling—democracy, Germans soon learned that they were still viewed as the pariah of Europe. Wilson’s idealism had been forced to yield to still-fresh wartime resentments being articulated by the leaders of the French, British, and Italian delegations. Instead of offering negotiations, the Allies forced Germany to sign the Treaty of Versailless with no alterations.
The Weimar constitution
In the month following the signing of the treaty, the Weimar constituent assembly completed a draft constitution for the new republic, resulting in what was hailed as the most modern democratic constitution of its day. The Weimar constitution provided for a popularly elected president who was given considerable power over foreign policy and the armed forces. Article 48 also gave the president emergency decree powers to protect the republic from crises initiated by its opponents on either the left or the right. The president was empowered to nominate the chancellor, whose government required the confidence of the lower house of the parliament, the Reichstag, which was elected by universal suffrage through a system of proportional representation. An upper house, the Reichsrat, comprised delegates appointed by the governments of the federal states, the Länder.
The Weimar constitution’s most modern features, the provisions for popular referendum and initiative, were designed to enable the electorate, by way of petition, to introduce bills into the Reichstag and to force the body to vote on them. If the bill was voted down, the constitution prescribed a national referendum to allow the electorate to pass the bill into law against the wishes of the Reichstag. Through these provisions, it was thought, the government would never be allowed to ignore the wishes of the voters.
The Weimar constitution was promulgated formally on August 11, 1919, ending the provisional status of government in Germany that had begun with Scheidemann’s proclamation of a republic the previous November. In September the government, judging the situation sufficiently safe in Berlin, returned to the capital. But it did not yet consider it sufficiently safe to risk nationwide elections for president or for a Reichstag to replace the constituent assembly. Instead the assembly prolonged Ebert’s provisional term as president for three years; elections for the Reichstag were delayed until June 1920.
Years of crisis, 1920–23
In its early years the new German democracy faced continuing turmoil. The Treaty of Versailles, quickly labeled “the Diktat” by the German public, galvanized the resentment that had accumulated during the war, much of which was turned back on the republic itself. Its enemies began to blame the hated treaty on the republic’s socialist and democratic progenitors, whom they accused of having undermined Germany’s efforts in the final stages of the war. A revived and radicalized right wing asked whether the German army might not have been stabbed in the back by traitors on the home front. Racist circles took seriously the notorious Protocols of the Learned Elders of Zion, a fraudulent document fabricated in Russia in 1895 and published in Germany in 1920, which suggested that all of recent history, including World War I, resulted from a conspiracy of Jews seeking to control the world. Roving Freikorps units contributed to the brutalization of German political life. In March 1920 one of these units, under the command of the former naval captain Hermann Ehrhardt, succeeded in briefly seizing control of the government in Berlin. This so-called Kapp Putsch, named after the conservative politician Wolfgang Kapp, who had planned it, was thwarted not by the army but by a general strike of Berlin’s socialist and communist workers. Threats by military figures succeeded in forcing the resignation of Bavaria’s socialist government and its replacement by a conservative regime, however, and thereafter radical groups of the right found protection and a degree of nurture in this southern German state. By the end of 1922 there had been nearly 400 political assassinations, the vast majority of them traceable to rightists. The victims included prominent politicians such as Matthias Erzberger, who signed the armistice of 1918, and Walther Rathenau, the foreign minister.
The June 1920 elections to the first Reichstag reflected the difficulties in which the new democracy found itself. The Weimar coalition parties, the Social Democratic Party, the Centre Party, and the Democrats, which in January 1919 had together received more than 75 percent of the vote, this time managed to win only 43.5 percent. Contributing to the problems that the republic faced in the early 1920s was the escalating rate of inflation that was eventually to destroy the German mark. Although the inflation was rooted in the huge debt that Germany had amassed in financing its war effort, the hyperinflation of 1923 was triggered by the French-Belgian military occupation in January 1923 of the German industrial district in the Ruhr valley. The occupation occurred in retaliation for Germany’s having fallen behind in its reparation payments and was intended to force German industry to provide compensation for the French and Belgian losses. Rather than accede quietly to the humiliation of occupation, the German government urged workers and employers to close down the factories. Idle workers were paid during the following months with a currency inflating so rapidly that printers gave up trying to print numbers on bills. By mid-1923 the German mark was losing value by the minute: a loaf of bread that cost 20,000 marks in the morning would cost 5,000,000 marks by nightfall; restaurant prices went up while customers were eating; and workers were paid twice a day. When economic collapse finally came on November 15, it took 4.2 trillion German marks to buy a single American dollar.
The social and political cost of the hyperinflation was high. Scholars note that the inflation did more to undermine the middle classes than the ostensibly socialist revolution of 1918. A lifetime of savings would no longer buy a subway ticket. Pensions planned for a lifetime were wiped out completely. Politically, the hyperinflation fueled radicalism on both the left and the right. The Communists, badly damaged by their failure in January 1919, saw greatly improved prospects for a successful revolution. In Munich the leader of the small National Socialist German Workers’ (Nazi) Party, Adolf Hitler, used the turmoil to fashion an alliance with other right-wing groups and attempt a coup in November 1923—the Beer Hall Putsch—that sought to use Bavaria as a base for a nationalist march on Berlin. He hoped to overthrow the democratic system of Weimar that he believed was responsible for Germany’s political and economic humiliation. Neither the radicals of the right nor those of the left succeeded in imposing their will. In the short run they did not succeed because of ineptitude and miscalculation; in the long run they failed because the government sponsored a currency reform that restabilized the mark and also decided to end its policy of passive resistance in the Ruhr in exchange for an end to the occupation and a rescheduling of the reparation payments that it owed to the Allies.
The Weimar Renaissance
Amid the political and economic turmoil of the early 1920s, Germany’s cultural and intellectual life was flowering. The so-called Weimar Renaissance brought the fulfillment of the Modernist revolution, which in the late 19th century had begun to transform the European aesthetic sensibility. The Modernist rejection of tradition perfectly suited the need of many Germans for new meanings and values to replace those destroyed by the war. “A world has been destroyed; we must seek a radical solution,” said the young architect Walter Gropius upon his return from the front in late 1918. In 1919 Gropius became the founder and first director of the Bauhaus school of design in Weimar, the most important institution in Germany for the expression of Modernism’s aesthetic and cultural vision. Bauhaus artists believed that they were creating a new world through their painting, poetry, music, theatre, and architecture. The legacy of German Modernism in general, and of the Bauhaus in particular, is most immediately evident in the stark steel-and-glass high-rise buildings whose clear and clean lines have come to dominate the skylines of the world’s cities. Moreover, the paintings and sculptures decorating them, as well as the designs of the furniture and the lighting fixtures, are heavily influenced by the aesthetic principles articulated in Weimar Germany during the 1920s.
Beyond the Bauhaus, painters such as George Grosz, Max Beckmann, and Otto Dix pursued an artistic approach known as Expressionism; they were interested in depicting their emotional responses to reality rather than reality itself. In music the rejection of tonality by composers such as Arnold Schoenberg, Anton von Webern, and Alban Berg broke a centuries-old tradition. At the juncture between popular and serious music, the composer Kurt Weill collaborated with the poet and dramatist Bertolt Brecht to create in 1928 Die Dreigroschenoper (The Threepenny Opera), a bitterly satiric musical play in which the world of modern capitalism was equated with that of underworld gangsterism. In films such as Robert Wiene’s Das Cabinet des Dr. Caligari (1920; The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari) and Fritz Lang’s Metropolis (1927), distorted sets and unusual camera angles probed for disturbing truths behind the surface appearances of reality.
Not everyone welcomed the Modernist attack on tradition. Angry audiences often interrupted opera performances and theatrical productions. Siegfried Wagner, the son of the composer Richard Wagner, deplored a Modernist version of his father’s Der fliegende Holländer (1843; The Flying Dutchman), calling the production an example of “cultural bolshevism.” Other artists—the novelist Thomas Mann, for example, winner of the 1929 Nobel Prize for Literature—chose to remain above the fray in the Olympian heights of German Kultur.
Years of economic and political stabilization
The financial recovery that began with the restabilization of the German currency in late 1923 received a boost in 1924 when the Allies agreed to end their occupation of the Ruhr and to grant the German government a more realistic payment schedule on reparations. A committee of the Allied Reparations Commission headed by the American financier and soon-to-be vice president Charles Dawes had recommended these changes and urged the Allies to grant sizable loans to Germany to assist its economic recovery. The Dawes Plan marked a significant step in the upswing of the German economy that lasted until the onset of the Great Depression. The 800 million gold marks in foreign loans had by 1927 enabled German industrial production to regain its 1913 prewar high. That same year the Reichstag addressed the vital need for social and class reconciliation by voting for a compulsory unemployment insurance plan. Reconciliation on the political level seemed achieved in 1925 when the 77-year-old Hindenburg was elected to succeed the deceased Ebert as president. Although no democrat, the aged field marshal took seriously his duty to support the constitution and the republic.
The guiding spirit in German foreign policy from 1924 through 1929 was the foreign minister, Gustav Stresemann, who firmly believed that Germany was more likely to gain relief from the harshness of Versailles by trying to fulfill its terms than by stubbornly continuing to resist them. Stresemann’s efforts ushered in what came to be known as “the era of fulfillment.” It began in December 1925 when Germany signed the Pact of Locarno, in which it guaranteed to maintain the new postwar boundaries with France and Belgium and to submit to international arbitration any boundary disputes that might arise in the east with Poland or Czechoslovakia. Germany formally rejoined the family of nations by being granted membership in the League of Nations in September 1926. In 1928 Germany became party to the most dramatic symbolic gesture of postwar reconciliation, the Kellogg-Briand Pact, which promised to outlaw aggressive war; this agreement was signed by nearly all the world’s major countries during the next year.
The May 1928 Reichstag elections seemed to reflect the economic and political stabilization of the Weimar Republic. The antirepublican parties of the left and right together received only 13 percent of the total vote, with the Communists receiving 10.6 percent and the Nazis taking only 2.6 percent. Germany’s reintegration into the international political structure advanced with the decision in early 1929 by the Allied Reparations Commission to settle the reparations question. Owen D. Young, an American business executive, headed the committee appointed to make recommendations in this matter. The Young Committee proposed that German reparations be reduced to about 37 billion gold marks, less than one-third of the 1921 total, and that payments be stretched until 1988. It also called for the dissolution of the Reparations Commission and for an immediate end to what remained of the Allied occupation of the Rhineland.
The German government, seeing the obvious advantages in the Young Plan, officially accepted its terms in August 1929. However, right-wing opposition parties saw the plan as nothing less than a renewal of Germany’s humiliation. Led by the German National Peoples’ Party (DNVP) and its leader Alfred Hugenberg, the press and movie-industry lord, the nationalist opposition seized upon the constitutional processes for popular initiative and referendum in order to force the government to reverse its acceptance of the plan. To run the opposition’s anti-Young Plan campaign, Hugenberg engaged Hitler, the leader of the apparently moribund Nazi Party. The objective was to force the German government to repudiate the reparations debt as well as the war guilt clause of Versailles upon which the debt rested. German signatories to the Young Plan, moreover, were to become liable to the charge of treason. The right wing’s initiative did force the Reichstag into reconsidering its approval of the Young Plan but to no avail. The national plebiscite that necessarily followed found only 13.8 percent of the voters favouring the objectives of the right wing. The bitterness of the campaign, however, may have contributed to the illness and death of Stresemann during the campaign.
The end of the republic
An unintended effect of the anti-Young Plan campaign was to give widespread public exposure to Hitler, who used his access to the Hugenberg-owned press empire and to its weekly movie newsreels to give himself and his Nazi movement national publicity. An additional assist to Hitler’s career came on October 29, 1929, with the stock market crash on Wall Street, an event that signaled the onset of what quickly became a worldwide depression. The crash had an immediate effect in Germany as American investors, anxious about their financial position, began withdrawing their loans to Germany. German indebtedness to these investors had by 1929 reached nearly 15 billion marks. Prices on the German stock exchanges fell drastically during the last month of the year. Business failures multiplied. Early in 1930 Germany’s second largest insurance firm collapsed. Unemployment rose to three million during the course of the year. By the winter of 1932 it reached six million. Germany’s industry was working at no more than 50 percent of its capacity, and the volume of German foreign trade fell by two-thirds between 1929 and 1932.
The first critically important political effect of the economic crisis came in March 1930 when the government coalition fell apart over the rising cost of maintaining the unemployment program adopted in 1927. The Social Democratic Party, representing labour, and the Peoples’ Party, representing business, were unable to agree on the size of the government’s contribution to the fund, and their coalition dissolved. When a new coalition could not be formed, parliamentary democracy in Germany came to an end.
Political instability forced President Hindenburg to invoke his emergency powers (Article 48), which he used to appoint Heinrich Brüning of the Catholic Centre Party as chancellor. For the next two years, until May 30, 1932, Brüning governed without a parliamentary majority, deriving his authority from the powers residing in the office of President Hindenburg. However well-intentioned, Brüning’s deflationary economic policies were unable to stem the tide either of the depression or of its social and political ravages. His fateful decision to call for Reichstag elections in September 1930, moreover, inadvertently opened the door for the enemies of Weimar democracy. Together the Nazis and Communists gained nearly one of every three votes cast. In comparison to 1928, the Nazis increased their share of the vote sevenfold to 18 percent, while the Communists won 13 percent, a slight gain from their 10 percent share.
Although bitterly opposed to each other, during the next two years the Nazis and Communists succeeded in mobilizing the political and economic resentments generated by the depression. Hitler’s charismatic appeal and the youthful energies of his movement were attractive to large segments of a populace fearful of being ruined by economic and social disaster. Hitler’s record as a war veteran lent authority to the hypernationalism he expressed in racist terms. His identification of the Jew as the enemy responsible for all of Germany’s ills, be it the defeat of 1918, the Treaty of Versailles, the reparations, the inflation, or now the depression, seemed plausible to many eager to find a scapegoat. The power of Hitler’s appeal was reflected in the party’s growing membership lists—from 170,000 members in 1929 to 1,378,000 in 1932—and in the swelling ranks of the Nazi Party’s paramilitary SA (Sturmabteilung), the infamous storm troopers.
Unlike Hitler, the Communists found it difficult to extend their support beyond the German working classes. Moreover, Stalin’s increasing control over the Communists limited their political flexibility. Nonetheless, their self-confidence rose substantially because the depression seemingly confirmed their prediction of the inevitable collapse of capitalism. To the Communists, Hitler and National Socialism were perceived merely as products of the last phase of capitalism.
The depression reached its depths in the winter of 1931–32. Unemployment was still rising; the succession of business failures resembled rows of falling dominoes. Brüning, helpless in the face of these problems, was dubbed “the hunger chancellor” by his critics. Some hope of breaking the political impasse came with the series of critical state legislative elections scheduled for the spring of 1932 and with the presidential election required at the expiration of Hindenburg’s first term. Hitler’s opponents recognized that the 84-year-old Hindenburg, now fading into senility, was their only hope to prevent Hitler from winning the presidency, and, with great difficulty, they convinced Hindenburg, who wanted to retire, to seek a second term. The year 1932 was to be one of continuous election campaigning.
Although Hindenburg was eventually reelected, a runoff was necessary, and Hitler won 37 percent of the popular vote. His larger aim, however, had been to make himself the leading, or only, candidate for Brüning’s position as chancellor. Hindenburg did choose to replace Brüning in May 1932 but named the political dilettante Franz von Papen rather than Hitler. Desperate to find a base in parliament, Papen called for Reichstag elections in July. The result was a disaster for Papen and another triumph for the Nazis, who took 37 percent of the vote, the largest total they were ever to acquire in a free election. The Communists won 15 percent of the vote. Thus the two parties dedicated to destroying German democracy held a majority in the Reichstag. Still, Hitler was not appointed chancellor. In November Papen called for another Reichstag election in the hope of gaining parliamentary backing. Again he failed, although the Nazi vote fell by 4 percent. By contrast, the Communist vote rose to nearly 17 percent. In early December, when Hindenburg decided to replace Papen, he again ignored Hitler, choosing instead a friend from the army, General Kurt von Schleicher.
In the Nazi camp there was bitter frustration at the end of 1932. The party was deeply in debt and demoralized by the year’s endless campaigning. Putschist elements in the party, never persuaded that elections could bring the party to power, were growing increasingly restive. So deep was the frustration that on December 7 Gregor Strasser, second only to Hitler in the party, broke with the Nazis and retired from politics.
When Hitler finally became chancellor, on January 30, 1933, it was not on the crest of a wave of popular support but as the result of backroom political intrigue by Schleicher, Papen, and the president’s son, Oskar von Hindenburg. Only Hitler, they believed, could bring together a coalition with Hugenberg’s DNVP and possibly the Centre Party that could command a majority in the Reichstag. They assured the reluctant president that Hitler’s radical tendencies would be checked by the fact that Papen would hold the vice-chancellorship and that other conservatives would control the crucial ministries, such as those of war, foreign affairs, and economics.
Excerpted from Encyclopedia Brittanica
The republic proclaimed early in the afternoon of Saturday, November 9, 1918, is often called the “accidental republic.” When Friedrich Ebert, the leader of the so-called Majority Socialists, accepted the imperial chancellorship from Max von Baden, it was with the understanding that he would do his utmost to save the imperial system from revolution. Ebert believed that the only way to accomplish this would be by transforming Germany into a constitutional monarchy. Elections would have to be held for a constituent assembly, whose task it would be to draw up a new constitution.
Defeat of revolutionaries, 1918–19
Ebert, however, was faced with a precarious situation. The dangers confronting him were mounting all over the country. Four and a half years of seemingly futile combat and sacrifice had resulted in a disaffection with the war and discredited the imperial system, as well as its emperor. Shortages of food and fuel had rendered the population vulnerable to the influenza epidemic sweeping Europe. On October 18 alone Berlin authorities had reported 1,700 influenza deaths. Independent Socialists in Munich had forced the abdication on November 8 of Bavaria’s King Louis III and proclaimed a Bavarian socialist republic. The port cities along the North Sea and the Baltic Sea were falling into the hands of sailors’ and workers’ and soldiers’ councils (Räte) in the wake of the naval mutiny at Kiel in early November. Karl Liebknecht and Rosa Luxemburg, leaders of the radical Spartacus League, were eager to transform Germany into a republic of workers’ and soldiers’ councils (a Räterepublik) in imitation of the soviet republic being established by the Bolshevik leaders in Russia. As Ebert was accepting the reins of government in the Reichstag building on November 9, Liebknecht was proclaiming a socialist republic at a rally of his own followers in front of the deserted Royal Palace about a mile away. Many Marxist revolutionaries believed that the Bolshevik Revolution was merely the spark that would set off the worldwide proletarian revolution that Karl Marx had predicted. Inevitably, that revolution would have to spread to Germany. Given this ideologically charged scenario, Liebknecht confidently anticipated his destiny to become the German Lenin.
While the Liebknecht rally was proceeding in front of the Royal Palace, an angry crowd was gathering before the Reichstag building, the seat of the government. Because Ebert had just left the building, his friend and fellow Majority Socialist Philipp Scheidemann felt called upon to address the crowd. To meet its inevitable demands for change and to forestall whatever Liebknecht might be telling his followers, Scheidemann in his speech used the phrase “Long live the German republic!” Once made, the proclamation of a republic could not be withdrawn. Ebert was furious when he learned of Scheidemann’s “accidental” proclamation, but he realized that there was no turning back. He spent the afternoon seeking partners to form a provisional government to run the newly proclaimed republic. By nightfall he managed to persuade the Independent Socialists, a party that in 1917 had split from the Majority Socialists over the continuation of the war, to provide three members of a provisional government. To gain their cooperation, Ebert had to agree to name the provisional government the Council of Peoples’ Commissars and to transform Germany into a vaguely defined social republic. Despite this promise, Ebert still hoped that elections to a constituent assembly would lead to the creation of a moderate democratic republic. The Independent Socialists, however, though not as radical as Liebknecht, held to their vision of a socialist Räterepublik. They hoped that workers and soldiers would elect a multitude of councils across the entire country during the following weeks, assuming these would establish the foundation for a genuinely socialist republic.
For the time being, however, Majority and Independent Socialists jointly formed a provisional government for the defeated German nation, which everywhere seemed on the verge of collapse. Although the armistice of November 11 ended the fighting, it did not end the Allied blockade. The winter of 1918–19 brought no relief in the shortages of food and fuel, and the flu epidemic showed no signs of abatement. Soldiers returning from the military fronts by the hundreds of thousands were left stranded, jobless, hungry, and bitter—grist for the mill of revolution.
The push for revolution, led by an enthusiastic Liebknecht and a more reluctant Luxemburg, came on January 6, 1919, encouraged by Soviet Russia and further prompted by fear that Ebert’s plans for the election of a constituent assembly, scheduled for January 19, might stabilize the German situation. The Spartacists, now officially the Communist Party of Germany, initiated massive demonstrations in Berlin and quickly seized key government and communications centres.
The events of “Spartacist Week,” as the radical attempt at revolution came to be known, demonstrated that Germany was not nearly as ripe for revolution as leading radicals had believed. As Luxemburg had feared, mass support for communism did not exist among German workers; instead, most remained loyal to the Independent Socialists or to Ebert’s more moderate and democratic vision of socialism. The German army, moreover, had recovered its nerve and was determined to prevent a further move to the left. In December the army had begun secretly to train volunteer units drawn from the sea of soldiers returning from the front. These so-called Freikorps (“Free Corps”) units formed dozens of small right-wing armies that during the next years roamed the country, looking for revolutionary activity to suppress. The Spartacist revolt, which was confined largely to Berlin, was put down within a week by some 3,000 Freikorps members. When Liebknecht and Luxemburg were captured on January 15, they were both shot at the initiative of Freikorps officers. Although sporadic revolutionary activity continued elsewhere in Germany during the following months, its failure in Berlin clearly marked its doom. The proclamation on April 4, 1919, of a Räterepublik in Bavaria revived radical fortunes only briefly; Freikorps units put down the radical Bavarian republic by the end of the month.
The collapse of the Spartacist revolt greatly enhanced the chances for Ebert’s vision of Germany’s future to prevail. Moreover, the meeting of a national congress of workers’ and soldiers’ councils in mid-December 1918, upon which the Independent Socialists had pinned their own hopes for creating a socialist republic, proved to be far less radical than expected; it did nothing to interfere with Ebert’s plans to elect an assembly to draw up a democratic constitution. The elections on January 19, 1919—the first German election in which women had voting rights—produced a resounding victory for Ebert’s conception of democracy. Three of every four voters gave their support to political parties that favoured turning Germany into a democracy. After months of turmoil Germany was to become a democratic republic. The assembly began its deliberations on February 6, 1919, choosing to meet in Weimar, a small city that was considered less vulnerable to radical political interference than Berlin.
On January 18, 1919, representatives of the powers victorious over Germany began the deliberations in Paris that would establish a European peace settlement. Germany’s new democratic leaders placed high hopes in the prospects for this settlement. U.S. President Woodrow Wilson’s Fourteen Points seemed to promise Germans national self-determination as well as to encourage the efforts to transform Germany into a democracy. When the German constituent assembly met in Weimar for the first time, it immediately declared itself sovereign over all of Germany. It selected a provisional government—with Ebert as president and Scheidemann as chancellor—whose first major task was to prepare for the expected invitation to Paris to negotiate a peace treaty with the empire’s former enemies.
But the invitation for a German delegation to come to Paris did not arrive until early April. Rather than being treated as a fellow—if fledgling—democracy, Germans soon learned that they were still viewed as the pariah of Europe. Wilson’s idealism had been forced to yield to still-fresh wartime resentments being articulated by the leaders of the French, British, and Italian delegations. Instead of offering negotiations, the Allies forced Germany to sign the Treaty of Versailless with no alterations.
The Weimar constitution
In the month following the signing of the treaty, the Weimar constituent assembly completed a draft constitution for the new republic, resulting in what was hailed as the most modern democratic constitution of its day. The Weimar constitution provided for a popularly elected president who was given considerable power over foreign policy and the armed forces. Article 48 also gave the president emergency decree powers to protect the republic from crises initiated by its opponents on either the left or the right. The president was empowered to nominate the chancellor, whose government required the confidence of the lower house of the parliament, the Reichstag, which was elected by universal suffrage through a system of proportional representation. An upper house, the Reichsrat, comprised delegates appointed by the governments of the federal states, the Länder.
The Weimar constitution’s most modern features, the provisions for popular referendum and initiative, were designed to enable the electorate, by way of petition, to introduce bills into the Reichstag and to force the body to vote on them. If the bill was voted down, the constitution prescribed a national referendum to allow the electorate to pass the bill into law against the wishes of the Reichstag. Through these provisions, it was thought, the government would never be allowed to ignore the wishes of the voters.
The Weimar constitution was promulgated formally on August 11, 1919, ending the provisional status of government in Germany that had begun with Scheidemann’s proclamation of a republic the previous November. In September the government, judging the situation sufficiently safe in Berlin, returned to the capital. But it did not yet consider it sufficiently safe to risk nationwide elections for president or for a Reichstag to replace the constituent assembly. Instead the assembly prolonged Ebert’s provisional term as president for three years; elections for the Reichstag were delayed until June 1920.
Years of crisis, 1920–23
In its early years the new German democracy faced continuing turmoil. The Treaty of Versailles, quickly labeled “the Diktat” by the German public, galvanized the resentment that had accumulated during the war, much of which was turned back on the republic itself. Its enemies began to blame the hated treaty on the republic’s socialist and democratic progenitors, whom they accused of having undermined Germany’s efforts in the final stages of the war. A revived and radicalized right wing asked whether the German army might not have been stabbed in the back by traitors on the home front. Racist circles took seriously the notorious Protocols of the Learned Elders of Zion, a fraudulent document fabricated in Russia in 1895 and published in Germany in 1920, which suggested that all of recent history, including World War I, resulted from a conspiracy of Jews seeking to control the world. Roving Freikorps units contributed to the brutalization of German political life. In March 1920 one of these units, under the command of the former naval captain Hermann Ehrhardt, succeeded in briefly seizing control of the government in Berlin. This so-called Kapp Putsch, named after the conservative politician Wolfgang Kapp, who had planned it, was thwarted not by the army but by a general strike of Berlin’s socialist and communist workers. Threats by military figures succeeded in forcing the resignation of Bavaria’s socialist government and its replacement by a conservative regime, however, and thereafter radical groups of the right found protection and a degree of nurture in this southern German state. By the end of 1922 there had been nearly 400 political assassinations, the vast majority of them traceable to rightists. The victims included prominent politicians such as Matthias Erzberger, who signed the armistice of 1918, and Walther Rathenau, the foreign minister.
The June 1920 elections to the first Reichstag reflected the difficulties in which the new democracy found itself. The Weimar coalition parties, the Social Democratic Party, the Centre Party, and the Democrats, which in January 1919 had together received more than 75 percent of the vote, this time managed to win only 43.5 percent. Contributing to the problems that the republic faced in the early 1920s was the escalating rate of inflation that was eventually to destroy the German mark. Although the inflation was rooted in the huge debt that Germany had amassed in financing its war effort, the hyperinflation of 1923 was triggered by the French-Belgian military occupation in January 1923 of the German industrial district in the Ruhr valley. The occupation occurred in retaliation for Germany’s having fallen behind in its reparation payments and was intended to force German industry to provide compensation for the French and Belgian losses. Rather than accede quietly to the humiliation of occupation, the German government urged workers and employers to close down the factories. Idle workers were paid during the following months with a currency inflating so rapidly that printers gave up trying to print numbers on bills. By mid-1923 the German mark was losing value by the minute: a loaf of bread that cost 20,000 marks in the morning would cost 5,000,000 marks by nightfall; restaurant prices went up while customers were eating; and workers were paid twice a day. When economic collapse finally came on November 15, it took 4.2 trillion German marks to buy a single American dollar.
The social and political cost of the hyperinflation was high. Scholars note that the inflation did more to undermine the middle classes than the ostensibly socialist revolution of 1918. A lifetime of savings would no longer buy a subway ticket. Pensions planned for a lifetime were wiped out completely. Politically, the hyperinflation fueled radicalism on both the left and the right. The Communists, badly damaged by their failure in January 1919, saw greatly improved prospects for a successful revolution. In Munich the leader of the small National Socialist German Workers’ (Nazi) Party, Adolf Hitler, used the turmoil to fashion an alliance with other right-wing groups and attempt a coup in November 1923—the Beer Hall Putsch—that sought to use Bavaria as a base for a nationalist march on Berlin. He hoped to overthrow the democratic system of Weimar that he believed was responsible for Germany’s political and economic humiliation. Neither the radicals of the right nor those of the left succeeded in imposing their will. In the short run they did not succeed because of ineptitude and miscalculation; in the long run they failed because the government sponsored a currency reform that restabilized the mark and also decided to end its policy of passive resistance in the Ruhr in exchange for an end to the occupation and a rescheduling of the reparation payments that it owed to the Allies.
The Weimar Renaissance
Amid the political and economic turmoil of the early 1920s, Germany’s cultural and intellectual life was flowering. The so-called Weimar Renaissance brought the fulfillment of the Modernist revolution, which in the late 19th century had begun to transform the European aesthetic sensibility. The Modernist rejection of tradition perfectly suited the need of many Germans for new meanings and values to replace those destroyed by the war. “A world has been destroyed; we must seek a radical solution,” said the young architect Walter Gropius upon his return from the front in late 1918. In 1919 Gropius became the founder and first director of the Bauhaus school of design in Weimar, the most important institution in Germany for the expression of Modernism’s aesthetic and cultural vision. Bauhaus artists believed that they were creating a new world through their painting, poetry, music, theatre, and architecture. The legacy of German Modernism in general, and of the Bauhaus in particular, is most immediately evident in the stark steel-and-glass high-rise buildings whose clear and clean lines have come to dominate the skylines of the world’s cities. Moreover, the paintings and sculptures decorating them, as well as the designs of the furniture and the lighting fixtures, are heavily influenced by the aesthetic principles articulated in Weimar Germany during the 1920s.
Beyond the Bauhaus, painters such as George Grosz, Max Beckmann, and Otto Dix pursued an artistic approach known as Expressionism; they were interested in depicting their emotional responses to reality rather than reality itself. In music the rejection of tonality by composers such as Arnold Schoenberg, Anton von Webern, and Alban Berg broke a centuries-old tradition. At the juncture between popular and serious music, the composer Kurt Weill collaborated with the poet and dramatist Bertolt Brecht to create in 1928 Die Dreigroschenoper (The Threepenny Opera), a bitterly satiric musical play in which the world of modern capitalism was equated with that of underworld gangsterism. In films such as Robert Wiene’s Das Cabinet des Dr. Caligari (1920; The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari) and Fritz Lang’s Metropolis (1927), distorted sets and unusual camera angles probed for disturbing truths behind the surface appearances of reality.
Not everyone welcomed the Modernist attack on tradition. Angry audiences often interrupted opera performances and theatrical productions. Siegfried Wagner, the son of the composer Richard Wagner, deplored a Modernist version of his father’s Der fliegende Holländer (1843; The Flying Dutchman), calling the production an example of “cultural bolshevism.” Other artists—the novelist Thomas Mann, for example, winner of the 1929 Nobel Prize for Literature—chose to remain above the fray in the Olympian heights of German Kultur.
Years of economic and political stabilization
The financial recovery that began with the restabilization of the German currency in late 1923 received a boost in 1924 when the Allies agreed to end their occupation of the Ruhr and to grant the German government a more realistic payment schedule on reparations. A committee of the Allied Reparations Commission headed by the American financier and soon-to-be vice president Charles Dawes had recommended these changes and urged the Allies to grant sizable loans to Germany to assist its economic recovery. The Dawes Plan marked a significant step in the upswing of the German economy that lasted until the onset of the Great Depression. The 800 million gold marks in foreign loans had by 1927 enabled German industrial production to regain its 1913 prewar high. That same year the Reichstag addressed the vital need for social and class reconciliation by voting for a compulsory unemployment insurance plan. Reconciliation on the political level seemed achieved in 1925 when the 77-year-old Hindenburg was elected to succeed the deceased Ebert as president. Although no democrat, the aged field marshal took seriously his duty to support the constitution and the republic.
The guiding spirit in German foreign policy from 1924 through 1929 was the foreign minister, Gustav Stresemann, who firmly believed that Germany was more likely to gain relief from the harshness of Versailles by trying to fulfill its terms than by stubbornly continuing to resist them. Stresemann’s efforts ushered in what came to be known as “the era of fulfillment.” It began in December 1925 when Germany signed the Pact of Locarno, in which it guaranteed to maintain the new postwar boundaries with France and Belgium and to submit to international arbitration any boundary disputes that might arise in the east with Poland or Czechoslovakia. Germany formally rejoined the family of nations by being granted membership in the League of Nations in September 1926. In 1928 Germany became party to the most dramatic symbolic gesture of postwar reconciliation, the Kellogg-Briand Pact, which promised to outlaw aggressive war; this agreement was signed by nearly all the world’s major countries during the next year.
The May 1928 Reichstag elections seemed to reflect the economic and political stabilization of the Weimar Republic. The antirepublican parties of the left and right together received only 13 percent of the total vote, with the Communists receiving 10.6 percent and the Nazis taking only 2.6 percent. Germany’s reintegration into the international political structure advanced with the decision in early 1929 by the Allied Reparations Commission to settle the reparations question. Owen D. Young, an American business executive, headed the committee appointed to make recommendations in this matter. The Young Committee proposed that German reparations be reduced to about 37 billion gold marks, less than one-third of the 1921 total, and that payments be stretched until 1988. It also called for the dissolution of the Reparations Commission and for an immediate end to what remained of the Allied occupation of the Rhineland.
The German government, seeing the obvious advantages in the Young Plan, officially accepted its terms in August 1929. However, right-wing opposition parties saw the plan as nothing less than a renewal of Germany’s humiliation. Led by the German National Peoples’ Party (DNVP) and its leader Alfred Hugenberg, the press and movie-industry lord, the nationalist opposition seized upon the constitutional processes for popular initiative and referendum in order to force the government to reverse its acceptance of the plan. To run the opposition’s anti-Young Plan campaign, Hugenberg engaged Hitler, the leader of the apparently moribund Nazi Party. The objective was to force the German government to repudiate the reparations debt as well as the war guilt clause of Versailles upon which the debt rested. German signatories to the Young Plan, moreover, were to become liable to the charge of treason. The right wing’s initiative did force the Reichstag into reconsidering its approval of the Young Plan but to no avail. The national plebiscite that necessarily followed found only 13.8 percent of the voters favouring the objectives of the right wing. The bitterness of the campaign, however, may have contributed to the illness and death of Stresemann during the campaign.
The end of the republic
An unintended effect of the anti-Young Plan campaign was to give widespread public exposure to Hitler, who used his access to the Hugenberg-owned press empire and to its weekly movie newsreels to give himself and his Nazi movement national publicity. An additional assist to Hitler’s career came on October 29, 1929, with the stock market crash on Wall Street, an event that signaled the onset of what quickly became a worldwide depression. The crash had an immediate effect in Germany as American investors, anxious about their financial position, began withdrawing their loans to Germany. German indebtedness to these investors had by 1929 reached nearly 15 billion marks. Prices on the German stock exchanges fell drastically during the last month of the year. Business failures multiplied. Early in 1930 Germany’s second largest insurance firm collapsed. Unemployment rose to three million during the course of the year. By the winter of 1932 it reached six million. Germany’s industry was working at no more than 50 percent of its capacity, and the volume of German foreign trade fell by two-thirds between 1929 and 1932.
The first critically important political effect of the economic crisis came in March 1930 when the government coalition fell apart over the rising cost of maintaining the unemployment program adopted in 1927. The Social Democratic Party, representing labour, and the Peoples’ Party, representing business, were unable to agree on the size of the government’s contribution to the fund, and their coalition dissolved. When a new coalition could not be formed, parliamentary democracy in Germany came to an end.
Political instability forced President Hindenburg to invoke his emergency powers (Article 48), which he used to appoint Heinrich Brüning of the Catholic Centre Party as chancellor. For the next two years, until May 30, 1932, Brüning governed without a parliamentary majority, deriving his authority from the powers residing in the office of President Hindenburg. However well-intentioned, Brüning’s deflationary economic policies were unable to stem the tide either of the depression or of its social and political ravages. His fateful decision to call for Reichstag elections in September 1930, moreover, inadvertently opened the door for the enemies of Weimar democracy. Together the Nazis and Communists gained nearly one of every three votes cast. In comparison to 1928, the Nazis increased their share of the vote sevenfold to 18 percent, while the Communists won 13 percent, a slight gain from their 10 percent share.
Although bitterly opposed to each other, during the next two years the Nazis and Communists succeeded in mobilizing the political and economic resentments generated by the depression. Hitler’s charismatic appeal and the youthful energies of his movement were attractive to large segments of a populace fearful of being ruined by economic and social disaster. Hitler’s record as a war veteran lent authority to the hypernationalism he expressed in racist terms. His identification of the Jew as the enemy responsible for all of Germany’s ills, be it the defeat of 1918, the Treaty of Versailles, the reparations, the inflation, or now the depression, seemed plausible to many eager to find a scapegoat. The power of Hitler’s appeal was reflected in the party’s growing membership lists—from 170,000 members in 1929 to 1,378,000 in 1932—and in the swelling ranks of the Nazi Party’s paramilitary SA (Sturmabteilung), the infamous storm troopers.
Unlike Hitler, the Communists found it difficult to extend their support beyond the German working classes. Moreover, Stalin’s increasing control over the Communists limited their political flexibility. Nonetheless, their self-confidence rose substantially because the depression seemingly confirmed their prediction of the inevitable collapse of capitalism. To the Communists, Hitler and National Socialism were perceived merely as products of the last phase of capitalism.
The depression reached its depths in the winter of 1931–32. Unemployment was still rising; the succession of business failures resembled rows of falling dominoes. Brüning, helpless in the face of these problems, was dubbed “the hunger chancellor” by his critics. Some hope of breaking the political impasse came with the series of critical state legislative elections scheduled for the spring of 1932 and with the presidential election required at the expiration of Hindenburg’s first term. Hitler’s opponents recognized that the 84-year-old Hindenburg, now fading into senility, was their only hope to prevent Hitler from winning the presidency, and, with great difficulty, they convinced Hindenburg, who wanted to retire, to seek a second term. The year 1932 was to be one of continuous election campaigning.
Although Hindenburg was eventually reelected, a runoff was necessary, and Hitler won 37 percent of the popular vote. His larger aim, however, had been to make himself the leading, or only, candidate for Brüning’s position as chancellor. Hindenburg did choose to replace Brüning in May 1932 but named the political dilettante Franz von Papen rather than Hitler. Desperate to find a base in parliament, Papen called for Reichstag elections in July. The result was a disaster for Papen and another triumph for the Nazis, who took 37 percent of the vote, the largest total they were ever to acquire in a free election. The Communists won 15 percent of the vote. Thus the two parties dedicated to destroying German democracy held a majority in the Reichstag. Still, Hitler was not appointed chancellor. In November Papen called for another Reichstag election in the hope of gaining parliamentary backing. Again he failed, although the Nazi vote fell by 4 percent. By contrast, the Communist vote rose to nearly 17 percent. In early December, when Hindenburg decided to replace Papen, he again ignored Hitler, choosing instead a friend from the army, General Kurt von Schleicher.
In the Nazi camp there was bitter frustration at the end of 1932. The party was deeply in debt and demoralized by the year’s endless campaigning. Putschist elements in the party, never persuaded that elections could bring the party to power, were growing increasingly restive. So deep was the frustration that on December 7 Gregor Strasser, second only to Hitler in the party, broke with the Nazis and retired from politics.
When Hitler finally became chancellor, on January 30, 1933, it was not on the crest of a wave of popular support but as the result of backroom political intrigue by Schleicher, Papen, and the president’s son, Oskar von Hindenburg. Only Hitler, they believed, could bring together a coalition with Hugenberg’s DNVP and possibly the Centre Party that could command a majority in the Reichstag. They assured the reluctant president that Hitler’s radical tendencies would be checked by the fact that Papen would hold the vice-chancellorship and that other conservatives would control the crucial ministries, such as those of war, foreign affairs, and economics.
Excerpted from Encyclopedia Brittanica