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The Times (London), UK
September 7, 2012 Friday
Edition 1; Ireland Edition
Footnotes are the antidote to toxic history
Those involved in nationalist disputes around the world need to learn
the meaning of Vergangenheitsbewältigung
by Ben Macintyre
All over the world, as powerplates shift, toxic little pockets of
disputed history are rising to the surface through the fissures,
poisoning international relations and threatening to ignite new
conflicts.
In the East China Sea, Japan and China are squabbling furiously over a
string of empty islands; Armenia says it is ready to go war with
Azerbaijan over a row that has its roots in the disputed region of
Nagorno-Karabakh; the Falkland Islands quarrel rumbles on, flaring up
from time to time, like a peptic ulcer. And in Putin's Russia, the
rehabilitation of Stalin gathers pace, reflecting an authoritarian
state's determination to reshape history using a cult of strong
leadership and nostalgia for Russian power. Nearly 60 years after his
death, the brutal Soviet leader is being resurrected as the "Little
Father" of his people.
In each case, politicians are deploying skewed and partisan versions
of the past to whip up anger, legitimise power and garner support. At
times of international uncertainty, history is up for grabs, another
natural resource to be seized and exploited for political ends.
How can the propagandists and manipulators of history be kept at bay?
The answer may lie in Germany, a country with a unique experience of
venomous nationalism that has pioneered a way to oppose those who
would pervert the politics of memory.
In 2015, the copyright of Mein Kampf will expire, ending a prohibition
on the publication of Hitler's repulsive book that has been in place
in Germany since the end of the war. Instead of attempting to reimpose
the ban, the state of Bavaria (which currently holds copyright) has
decided to publish a scholarly, cheap, annotated, German-language
edition of the book, in which every hateful word is subjected to
careful scrutiny and explanation. The footnote may be the most
powerful antidote to historical demagoguery.
In Russia, history is going backwards. Twenty years ago, Stalin was a
figure of universal condemnation. Today, Russian schoolchildren are
taught that Stalin was "an efficient manager" whose actions were
"rational". Just two years ago, a refurbished Moscow underground
station was adorned with the legend: "Stalin reared us on loyalty to
the people. He inspired us to labour and to heroism." In a recent
television poll to find "the greatest Russian ever", Stalin (an ethnic
Georgian) came third. Putin does not praise Stalin openly, but as his
own grip on Russia tightens, he waxes nostalgic for the superpower
Stalin created: "Anyone who doesn't regret the passing of the Soviet
Union has no heart."
A similar flattening and simplification of history is evident in the
fight between Japan and China over the Senkaku Islands. For the
nationalists of both sides, taking it in turns to raise their flags on
the barren rocks, the dispute is a matter of pride and honour. For
their governments, it is also about oil that may be harvested from the
surrounding seas, and strategic dominance in a region where power is
shifting.
By opting to buy the archipelago from its Japanese private owners,
Tokyo has deliberately upped the stakes, drawing in the United States,
which is bound to defend the islands under the US-Japanese Security
Treaty. China's claim to the islands (which it knows as Diaoyu)
represents another opportunity to demonstrate its growing power in the
region. As Hillary Clinton frankly acknowledged this week, the dispute
is not really about history at all, but rivalry between "an
established power and a rising power".
The footnotes, however, reveal a more complex (and far more
interesting) situation than nationalist politicians on either side are
prepared to admit. Ancient manuscripts indicate that the islands
(which lie closer to the Chinese coast than to mainland Japan) were
referred to as Chinese territory as early as 1534; Japan insists that
the islands have been legally Japanese since the Sino-Japanese war of
1895, pointing out that Chinese claims of sovereignty emerged only in
the 1970s, after a study found potential oil reserves in the
surrounding seas. Tawian also claims the islands.
The confrontation between Armenia and Azerbaijan over the convicted
killer Ramil Safarov is an even more stark example of how simplistic
nationalism can fuel and distort a long-running historical feud.
Safarov, an Azerbaijani, hacked to death an Armenian soldier after the
latter taunted him about Nagorno-Karabakh, the Armenian-dominated
enclave inside Azerbaijan over which the two countries fought a grim
six-year war ending in 1994. When Safarov was sent home to serve the
rest of his 30-year sentence, he was greeted as a hero, leading to an
explosion of fury in Armenia. Once again, a complicated sectarian and
religious feud has been seized on by nationalists, and presented as a
simple issue of national dignity.
Germany's experience, however, suggests that only historians can
provide the antidote to the poison of nationalist prejudice. The
decision to issue a fully annotated version of Mein Kampf is only the
latest example of the unblinking honesty with which successive
generations of German historians have set about addressing and
assessing the horrors of the past.
Christian Hartmann, the leading historian in the Mein Kampf project,
uses a military analogy to describe Hitler's archaic, anti-Semitic
treatise. "It is a rusty old grenade. We want to remove its
detonator." By identifying definitively the book's errors, origins,
context and effects, German historians may succeed in demystifying
Mein Kampf once and for all.
The other rusty historical grenades being dug up around the world
might be similarly defused. The way to undermine the rehabilitation of
Stalin is to expose, repeatedly, the horrors wrought by his regime. If
the disputes over Nagorno-Karabakh, the Senkaku Islands, and even the
Falklands could be shorn of nationalist posturing, and examined as
history, not politics, then resolution might be possible.
The wonderfully tongue-twisting term Vergangenheitsbewältigung,
meaning "coming to terms with the past", was recently voted the most
beautiful word in the German language. It implies national catharsis
as opposed to nationalist pride; deliberate collective
self-examination; confronting causes rather than allocating blame.
Germany has come to terms with the past, in a way that other nations
should not only admire, but emulate. Wherever toxic history bubbles
up, we should ban the politicians, nationalist protesters,
propagandists and soldiers, and send in the historians, armed with
plenty of footnotes.
Russian children are taught that Stalin was 'an efficient manager'
'Mein Kampf is a rusty old grenade. We want to remove its detonator'
September 7, 2012 Friday
Edition 1; Ireland Edition
Footnotes are the antidote to toxic history
Those involved in nationalist disputes around the world need to learn
the meaning of Vergangenheitsbewältigung
by Ben Macintyre
All over the world, as powerplates shift, toxic little pockets of
disputed history are rising to the surface through the fissures,
poisoning international relations and threatening to ignite new
conflicts.
In the East China Sea, Japan and China are squabbling furiously over a
string of empty islands; Armenia says it is ready to go war with
Azerbaijan over a row that has its roots in the disputed region of
Nagorno-Karabakh; the Falkland Islands quarrel rumbles on, flaring up
from time to time, like a peptic ulcer. And in Putin's Russia, the
rehabilitation of Stalin gathers pace, reflecting an authoritarian
state's determination to reshape history using a cult of strong
leadership and nostalgia for Russian power. Nearly 60 years after his
death, the brutal Soviet leader is being resurrected as the "Little
Father" of his people.
In each case, politicians are deploying skewed and partisan versions
of the past to whip up anger, legitimise power and garner support. At
times of international uncertainty, history is up for grabs, another
natural resource to be seized and exploited for political ends.
How can the propagandists and manipulators of history be kept at bay?
The answer may lie in Germany, a country with a unique experience of
venomous nationalism that has pioneered a way to oppose those who
would pervert the politics of memory.
In 2015, the copyright of Mein Kampf will expire, ending a prohibition
on the publication of Hitler's repulsive book that has been in place
in Germany since the end of the war. Instead of attempting to reimpose
the ban, the state of Bavaria (which currently holds copyright) has
decided to publish a scholarly, cheap, annotated, German-language
edition of the book, in which every hateful word is subjected to
careful scrutiny and explanation. The footnote may be the most
powerful antidote to historical demagoguery.
In Russia, history is going backwards. Twenty years ago, Stalin was a
figure of universal condemnation. Today, Russian schoolchildren are
taught that Stalin was "an efficient manager" whose actions were
"rational". Just two years ago, a refurbished Moscow underground
station was adorned with the legend: "Stalin reared us on loyalty to
the people. He inspired us to labour and to heroism." In a recent
television poll to find "the greatest Russian ever", Stalin (an ethnic
Georgian) came third. Putin does not praise Stalin openly, but as his
own grip on Russia tightens, he waxes nostalgic for the superpower
Stalin created: "Anyone who doesn't regret the passing of the Soviet
Union has no heart."
A similar flattening and simplification of history is evident in the
fight between Japan and China over the Senkaku Islands. For the
nationalists of both sides, taking it in turns to raise their flags on
the barren rocks, the dispute is a matter of pride and honour. For
their governments, it is also about oil that may be harvested from the
surrounding seas, and strategic dominance in a region where power is
shifting.
By opting to buy the archipelago from its Japanese private owners,
Tokyo has deliberately upped the stakes, drawing in the United States,
which is bound to defend the islands under the US-Japanese Security
Treaty. China's claim to the islands (which it knows as Diaoyu)
represents another opportunity to demonstrate its growing power in the
region. As Hillary Clinton frankly acknowledged this week, the dispute
is not really about history at all, but rivalry between "an
established power and a rising power".
The footnotes, however, reveal a more complex (and far more
interesting) situation than nationalist politicians on either side are
prepared to admit. Ancient manuscripts indicate that the islands
(which lie closer to the Chinese coast than to mainland Japan) were
referred to as Chinese territory as early as 1534; Japan insists that
the islands have been legally Japanese since the Sino-Japanese war of
1895, pointing out that Chinese claims of sovereignty emerged only in
the 1970s, after a study found potential oil reserves in the
surrounding seas. Tawian also claims the islands.
The confrontation between Armenia and Azerbaijan over the convicted
killer Ramil Safarov is an even more stark example of how simplistic
nationalism can fuel and distort a long-running historical feud.
Safarov, an Azerbaijani, hacked to death an Armenian soldier after the
latter taunted him about Nagorno-Karabakh, the Armenian-dominated
enclave inside Azerbaijan over which the two countries fought a grim
six-year war ending in 1994. When Safarov was sent home to serve the
rest of his 30-year sentence, he was greeted as a hero, leading to an
explosion of fury in Armenia. Once again, a complicated sectarian and
religious feud has been seized on by nationalists, and presented as a
simple issue of national dignity.
Germany's experience, however, suggests that only historians can
provide the antidote to the poison of nationalist prejudice. The
decision to issue a fully annotated version of Mein Kampf is only the
latest example of the unblinking honesty with which successive
generations of German historians have set about addressing and
assessing the horrors of the past.
Christian Hartmann, the leading historian in the Mein Kampf project,
uses a military analogy to describe Hitler's archaic, anti-Semitic
treatise. "It is a rusty old grenade. We want to remove its
detonator." By identifying definitively the book's errors, origins,
context and effects, German historians may succeed in demystifying
Mein Kampf once and for all.
The other rusty historical grenades being dug up around the world
might be similarly defused. The way to undermine the rehabilitation of
Stalin is to expose, repeatedly, the horrors wrought by his regime. If
the disputes over Nagorno-Karabakh, the Senkaku Islands, and even the
Falklands could be shorn of nationalist posturing, and examined as
history, not politics, then resolution might be possible.
The wonderfully tongue-twisting term Vergangenheitsbewältigung,
meaning "coming to terms with the past", was recently voted the most
beautiful word in the German language. It implies national catharsis
as opposed to nationalist pride; deliberate collective
self-examination; confronting causes rather than allocating blame.
Germany has come to terms with the past, in a way that other nations
should not only admire, but emulate. Wherever toxic history bubbles
up, we should ban the politicians, nationalist protesters,
propagandists and soldiers, and send in the historians, armed with
plenty of footnotes.
Russian children are taught that Stalin was 'an efficient manager'
'Mein Kampf is a rusty old grenade. We want to remove its detonator'