Lives Worthy of Life and Remembrance: Memorialization of the

National Socialist Programme

by

Meaghan Ann Hepburn

A thesis submitted in conformity with the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy Graduate Department of Germanic Languages and Literatures University of Toronto

© Copyright by Meaghan Ann Hepburn 2014

Meaghan Ann Hepburn Degree of Doctor of Philosophy (2014) Department of Germanic Languages and Literatures University of Toronto

“Lives Worthy of Life and Remembrance: Memorialization of the National Socialist Aktion T4 Euthanasia Programme

Abstract

It is estimated that over 70,000 German and Austrian victims deemed mentally and physically disabled by the Nazis lost their lives in the National Socialist euthanasia programmed entitled Aktion T4. These prove to be the first instance of mass gassings of a selection of society deemed unwanted, and provided the intellectual and technological framework that was employed in the Extermination Camps. And yet a void in memorialization exists for the topic.

Deficient memorialization of such a historically important event in German and Austrian society raises questions as to why this Nazi programme was not memorialized to the same degree as other historical events and victim groups of the . The scarce number of representations of the victims in the forms of literature, art, monuments and memorials is indicative of a reluctance or selective remembering of the topic in WWII memorialization practices.

The void in memorialization of Aktion T4 is founded in three important and influential factors. Firstly, the negative stigmas associated with mental and physical disabilities, both in confronting the topic, but also presenting it on public display. Secondly, the legal issues in that only a very few number of doctors, caregivers, or commanders of the killing centres were prosecuted and sentenced for their crimes, but rather continued to practice without any repercussions. Finally, the addressing of the topic of German suffering and the representation of

German people as victims, and not solely as the perpetrators of WWII. This complex dichotomy

ii of presenting German people as both victims and perpetrators within the same action results in a political nervousness and general avoidance.

The topic of Aktion T4 memorialization is pertinent as it speaks not only to the history of the mentally and physically disabled victims, but also to the treatment of people with disabilities today. The memorialization of Aktion T4 and the representation of its victims is an important topic which has been long delegated to the margins of Holocaust memory work. These first victims represent a selected eradication of a group of society deemed unworthy of life, and unworthy of belonging to the German population.

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Acknowlegements

I would like to begin by thanking my dissertation committee Rebecca Wittmann, John

Zilcosky, and especially my supervisor, Stefan Soldovieri. I am so very appreciative of your support and guidance throughout this process, and your comments have helped me greatly with this project. You have taught me so much throughout my studies, and you have inspired me greatly in my own teaching. I thank you, Stefan, for your encouragement and assistance! I would also like to thank Markus Stock, John Noyes, and Konrad Eisenbichler for your comments during the defence. Thank you as well to my external, Carol Poore, for your contributions. I also extend my appreciation to the members of the Department of Germanic Languages and

Literatures at the University of Toronto during these past years for your invaluable support.

In addition I thank those on-site who assisted me greatly in completing my research abroad. I am appreciative of those at the memorial centres: Thomas Stöckle (), Boris

Böhm (-Sonnenstein), Irene Leitner (), as well as the artists: Horst

Hoheisel, Via Lewandowsky, and Adelheid Niepold, and author: Hans-Ulrich Dapp. Special thanks as well to those in Tübingen who helped me find little known sites, and have exposed me to histories which are still waiting to be uncovered.

My gratitude to the institutions who provided me with financial support during my graduate studies. The Department of Germanic Languages and Literatures at the University of

Toronto provided me with teaching assistantships and travel grants. The Ontario Graduate

Scholarship (Ruth E. and Harry E. Carter Award), University of Toronto Katie Keeler Award

(German), and SGS Dissertation Completion Grant allowed me to complete my studies. The

Joint Initiative in German and European Studies grant was essential to allow me to conduct research in and Upper .

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I couldn’t have completed this without the support of my family and friends. My colleagues and friends at the University of Toronto have been instrumental in contributing to my success and graduate school experience. I am so grateful to have had such support during completion, and thank my friends and colleagues at the University of New Brunswick, and in the city of Fredericton. I am so lucky to be able to say I have such a wonderful set of friends across

Canada, Germany, and abroad who have listened, helped, and pushed me on these past years. I would not have enough pages to thank you all adequately ...

So with that I extend a heartfelt “Vielen Dank!” to my friends and family who have supported me during this process. Although I never said it enough, your questioning of “Are we there yet?” was most appreciated and helped me through all phases of this degree. A very special thank you to my parents, Lyle and Ann, and to my sister, Lindsay. Your support and encouragement has meant the world to me. ILYAILY.

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Table of Contents

Introduction: Lives Worthy of Life and Remembrance: The Forgotten Memorialization of Aktion T4 1

A. (Dis)Ability: The Marginalization of Impairment 3 B. Hippocratic Hypocrisy: Medicine and Aktion T4 10 C. Germans as Victims: Confronting the Taboo 18 D. Lives Worthy of Remembrance 21

Chapter 1: History and Origins of Aktion T4 23

A. The ‘Science’ of Selection 24 B. Lebensunwertes Leben: to Mass in Germany 28 C. The Judicial Aftermath of Aktion T4 and Euthanasia Perpetrators 46 D. “The story of racial science no more ends in 1945 than it begins in 1933.” 50

Chapter 2: Topographies of Trauma: Memorialization, Museology and Pedagogy at the Former Sites of Aktion T4 Terror 54 A. Grafeneck 63 i. Memorialization at Grafeneck and Southwest Germany 64 ii. Gedenkstätte Grafeneck: “Ort der Information“ 76 iii. Current Trends in Memorialization: Grafeneck as an “Ort des Lebens” 87 B. Pirna-Sonnenstein 90 i. An Abandoned History: Memorialization at Pirna-Sonnenstein 92 ii. Gedenkstätte Pirna-Sonnenstein: Gegenwart ist Vergangenheit 101 iii. Current Trends in Memorialization at Pirna-Sonnenstein and in the city of Pirna 112 C. Schloss Hartheim 118 i. Memorialization at Hartheim: Ein Zeitzeuge in Vergessenheit 119 ii. Lern- und Gedenkort: History and Social Awareness at Schloss Hartheim today 130 iii. Current Trends in Memorialization in Upper Austria 143 D. From Silence to Structures 145

Chapter 3: “Counter Memories”: Alternative Approaches to the Representation of Aktion T4 and National Socialist Euthanasia in the Mediums of Monuments and Art 151 A. Schandmäler: “There is nothing in this world as invisible as a monument” 152 i. Das Denkmal der grauen Busse 161 ii. »Vergangenheit ist Gegenwart«: The Memorial Signs of Pirna 169

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iii. Curves or Berlin Junction? 183 iv. Contemporary Aktion T4 Monuments 188 B. Artistic Renderings of Aktion T4 190 i. Hans Körnig – “In der Straßenbahn“ (1956) 192 ii. Via Lewandowsky – “Sie können nichts schreien hören“ (1989/90) 195 iii. Adelheid Niepold – “Den Toten ohne Begräbnis“ (2003) 203 C. Avoiding Trivializing Memory 207

Chapter 4: From the Schubladen to the Buchladen: A Sustained Silence in Literary Representations of Aktion T4 209 A. From Die Blechtrommel to Kindheitsmuster: Early Examples of Aktion T4 in Literature 214 B. Jugendliterature: An Educational and Direct Approach for the Young Reader 227 i. Ursula Wölfel – Ein Haus für Alle 229 C. Contemporary Literature: Exploiting the Victims in Literature 238 i. Reiner Goss – Grafeneck 238 ii. Hellmut G. Haasis – Heisel Rein der Gscheite Narr 250 D. Memorial Publications: A Private Memory becomes Public 253 i. Hans-Ulrich Dapp – Emma Z: Ein Opfer der Euthanasie 254 E. The Topic of Aktion T4 is coming out of the Drawers 256

Conclusion: The 100€ Question 258

Appendix A: Case Studies 264

Appendix B: Aktion T4 Doctors 268

Bibliography 270

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Introduction - Lives Worthy of Life and Remembrance: The Forgotten Memorialization of

Aktion T4

“What we fear, we often stigmatize and shun and sometimes seek to destroy. Popular entertainments depicting disabled characters allude to these fears and prejudices or address them obliquely or fragmentarily, seeking to reassure us about ourselves.” Paul Longmore qtd. in Barnes and Mercer, 525

“[Dr] Gross wasn’t taken to court because he was a colleague of a lot of people in the system. A colleague of the lawyers. A colleague of the judges. And it’s hard to take a friend or a colleague to court.”

Oliver Lehmann, Journalist and Author (Gray Matter)

An estimated 70,000 mentally and physically disabled German and Austrian victims lost their lives in the National Socialist euthanasia programmed entitled Aktion T4, and yet a void in memorialization exists for the topic. Deficient memorialization of such a historically important event in German and Austrian society raises questions as to why this Nazi programme was not memorialized to the same degree as other historical events and victim groups of .

It is not to say that remembrance of the event was and is currently completely absent from public consciousness, but that it was and is deficient, especially when compared to greater Holocaust memorialization. There are limited examples in literature, in canonical texts such as Günter

Grass’ Die Blechtrommel (1959) and Christa Wolf’s Kindheitsmuster (1976), and more recently in popular literature and regionally published novels in Germany. A limited number of examples of memorialization also exist in the forms of art, monuments and memorials in Germany, and in museums located on the sites of the Nazi Aktion T4 murders. But the scarce number of representations in the aforementioned mediums is indicative of reluctance to deal with the topic

in connection with WWII memorialization practices, and has resulted in a selective remembering.

In his essay, “The Terrible Gift”, Roger Simon speaks to the importance of museums that confront difficult histories, and the precarious and difficult task of subsequent generations to present evidence or traces of the past, as a form of testament. He states that testament “refers to the creation and assemblage of the texts, images and objects that are consigned to those who live beyond, one’s , inheritance is constituted within the physical and cultural processes that pass on a testament” (Simon 194). This concept of the “gift” is not restricted to merely museums, but other forms of memorialization, such as literature, film, and art. This terrible gift of Aktion T4 memorialization is one that people have been so reluctant to accept as testimony as such, which has resulted in a lack of memorialization. If presented at all, it was often kept in the private sphere, and not one that is prevalent in public discourse.

There are three primary reasons why the memorialization of this topic has previously been underdeveloped, especially in comparison to other victim groups of the Holocaust. One of the primary factors in the remembrance of Aktion T4 is the negative stigmas associated with mental and physical disabilities, both in confronting the topic, but also presenting it on public display. This is a form of aesthetic nervousness, as coined by Ato Quayson, which is a natural reaction to turn away from disability. Family members felt terrible guilt about allowing their relatives to be victims of the euthanasia programme, thereby thwarting memorialization. There are also legal issues in that only a very few number of doctors, caregivers, or commanders of the killing centres were prosecuted and sentenced for their crimes. Most medical professionals were reinstated in their field, and continued to practice without any repercussions, resulting in a sphere of silence surrounding the topic in the medical field. The final important factor is the concept of

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German suffering and the representation of German people as victims, and not solely the perpetrators of the Second World War. This concept of presenting Germans as victims had been generally considered to be a taboo topic, which W.G. Sebald brought attention to in connection with the air raid bombings of WWII. This complex dichotomy of presenting German people as both victims and perpetrators within the same action results in a political nervousness and general avoidance. The topic of Aktion T4 memorialization is pertinent as it speaks not only to the history of the mentally and physically disabled victims, but also to the treatment of people with disabilities today; it forewarns of potential problems of selective genetics and the eradication of impairments.

A. (Dis)Ability: The Marginalization of Impairment

While there have been many antecedents, the field of “Disability Studies” is relatively new, garnering much academic research since the end of the twentieth century. The two major streams, American and British1, draw on social and medical models as a way to understand the societal treatment of peoples with disabilities and impairments, which are so often deemed as

“unattractive and unwanted” (Oliver 47). The prevailing notion of the social model is that it is not physical and environmental barriers that impose the idea of the “other”, but rather society and conventional thoughts place restrictions on disability (Oliver, Barnes and Mercer, Mitchell and Snyder). The medical model, however, “imposes a presumption of biological or physical inferiority upon disabled persons” (Hahn qtd. in Barton 8). Pejorative words such as “spastic”,

“handicapped”, “invalid”, “cripple”, and “retarded” were common. It is my contention that hurdles to memorialization of Aktion T4 victims are dependent on both the medial and social

1 The American stream views the social construction of the problem of disability as in “inevitable outcome of the evolution of contemporary society” (Barnes 44). The British stream draws on Marx and Engels, and suggests that “disability and dependence are the social creation of a particular type of social formation” (ibid). Barnes also argues that both fields undervalue the impact of western society on the oppression of disabled peoples (ibid).

3 model. There are strong reverberations from the language used in Nazi propaganda that resonate in the medical model. Exclusion, social oppression, and prejudice against people with disabilities that exist in Germany today, are in keeping with the social model.

The main focus of disability studies is to foster a sense of inclusion, and the notion that society should move away from representing those with disabilities as an “abnormal”, fetishized group, towards a more positive representation of disabilities in society, in media and popular culture. A further focus of the field of disability studies is to bring the topic of disabilities away from being a marginalized subject matter, to one which is treated without societal restrictions.

Disability scholars David Mitchell and Sharon Snyder argue that “disability studies seeks to understand the ways in which we produce the ‘private room’ of disability in our most public discourses” (Mitchell and Snyder 205)2.

Prejudice against people who are deemed by society to be “different” is not a new phenomenon3. Cultural anthropologist Mary Douglas states that “‘primitive’ societies react to anomalies such as impairment by reducing ambiguity, physically controlling it, avoiding it, labelling it dangerous, or adopting it as ritual” (qtd. in Barnes 48). There has been a longstanding fear against the unknown, and confrontation with those with mental and physical differences elicits conflicts within people to acknowledge their failure to accept themselves as they truly are (Barnes and Mercer 152), and also reminds people of their own mortality (Barnes

2 It is important to note that disability studies promotes a stronger understanding and acceptance of people with disabilities. The idea is not that imperfections and impairments will be genetically erased from society, or genetically engineered out of existence. Michael Oliver argues that people with disabilities don’t want the disability to be extinct, but encourage a more cohesive social acceptance. “Many disabled people fear that their disappearance from the future will not be a matter of progress but one of bitter regret, for society as well as ourselves” (Oliver 165) 3 It is oft cited that the industrial revolution was a major turning point for the treatment of people with disabilities. There was a distinct shift in the treatment of those with impairments, as “able bodies” were needed in the industrial era. Barnes, however, wishes to reinforce that the emergence of prejudice against those with disabilities greatly predates capitalism, and thus it must be precluded that the industrial revolution was the commencement of discrimination.

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49). This conventional practice to react against confronting disability leads to an increased impulse to turn away from the memorialization of Aktion T4.

One can trace the origins of the desire for the “perfect” body to Greek mythology4, where abled bodies were prized and revered for war and fighting, and disabilities were abhorred.

Religion has also fostered a longstanding tradition of unjust treatment of those with disabilities.

Judeo-Christian traditions have seen impairments as “ungodly”, and the consequence of wrongdoings. Discrimination against those with disabilities is most clearly exemplified in

Leviticus 215. An early example of discrimination in Germany is that Martin Luther once claimed that he saw the devil in a disabled child, and recommended that the child be killed

(Barnes 55). Eastern religions such as , , and Shintoism view impairment as

“a divine judgment and retribution for past sins” (Barnes and Mercer 528).

Prejudice and mockery can also be identified in the practice of disability being used for sheer entertainment purposes. This was clearly apparent in the fact that those with mental and physical disabilities were often cast into the role of the court jester, the village idiot, or included in the early freak-shows. It is from these dominant and prevailing notions about disability being a humourous and insignificant aspect of society, that people began to turn away from disability being an important and valid part of life, and one that only existed on the periphery. If people with disabilities are typecast to play a lesser role in society, then it is in keeping that the memorialization of disabled victims of the Nazi regime would also play a lesser role.

4 Barnes also claims that Greek architecture has had a strong influence over modern European architecture. As such, there is often limited accessibility to building for people with disabilities (Barnes 53). 5 Leviticus 21: 16-21 “And the LORD spake unto Moses, saying, speak unto Aaron saying, Whosoever he be of thy seed in their generations that hath any blemish, let him not approach to offer the bread of his God. For whatsoever man he be that hath a blemish, he shall not approach: a blind man, or a lam, or he that hath a flat nose, or anything superfluous, or a man that is brokenfooted, or brokenhanded, or crookbackt, or a dwarf, or that hath a blemish in his eye, or be scurvy, or scabbed, or hath his stones broken; No man that hath a blemish of the seed of Aaron the priest shall come nigh to offer the offerings of the LORD made by fire: he hath a blemish; he shall not come nigh to offer the bread of his God.” (Bible, King James Version)

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Modern treatment of people with disabilities has generally been wrought with notions of marginalization, subordination, and oppression (Oliver 42, Barnes and Mercer 517, Mitchell and

Snyder 208). Many academics (Davids, Driedger, Oliver, and Barnes) have contended that prejudice against those with disabilities is a “complex and sophisticated form of social oppression or institutional oppressions on par with sexism, heterosexism, and ” (Barnes

43). There has also been a deeply rooted sense of exclusion. Examples of such exclusion is demonstrated with separate schooling, institutional living conditions, employment opportunities6, social activities, and also in memory work7. The Commissioner for Human

Rights states that of the 500 million people worldwide living with disabilities, many often live in deplorable conditions on the margins of society (Oliver 155).

The representation of those with disabilities in literature and the arts has long been a contentious topic. Disability scholars Mitchell and Snyder argue that the representations of people with disabilities in literature are most often negative. They are most often portrayed to be the “freak, monster, suffering innocent, or madman” (Mitchell and Snyder 196). There have been many feature films which have been made about the Holocaust and its victims, but only documentary films include the topic of Aktion T4. Thomas Stöckle, Director of the Grafeneck memorial site, states that people with disabilities do not make for an aesthetically desirable protagonist in film (Stöckle personal interview). This is a further indicator of avoidance to confront the topic of disability. There are a limited number of examples of the topic of Aktion

T4 and the memorialization of its victims in literature, and these will be discussed further in

Chapter 4.

6 The employment rate is lower for those with disabilities. People with impairments are two to five times more likely to be unemployed (Oliver 46). 7 This includes not only the memorialization of Aktion T4, but also the resulting from the withholding or rationing of medical care and nutrition in institutions around the world in the past century. See Oliver for more information.

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Challenges to Memorialization

Perhaps one of the most challenging impediments for memorialization for disabled victims of Aktion T4 is the lack of propulsion from within the disabled community. Some marginalized groups have garnered a sense of self-empowerment. Movements such as “Black is

Beautiful” and “Gay Pride”, showcase a sense of self-respect or honour for one’s own community. Several scholars have contended that the disabled community has yet to achieve this degree of acceptance from within (Mitchell and Snyder 208). Leslie Fielder claims that disability does not easily fit into a psychoanalytical framework for acceptance, but rather evokes either fear or pity. Barnes and Mercer agree, and state that people are generally not “proud” to have an impairment, which can often be debilitating, painful, or result in premature death

(Barnes and Mercer 528). As such, it has generally transpired that it is the so-called

‘nondisabled person’ who speaks on behalf of the disabled community. This results in a reinforcement and perpetuation of the divide between the two groups (Barnes and Mercer 531).

In the case of Aktion T4 memory, the impetuous for memorial practices must come from family members of the victims or from activist groups. In order for family members to initiate memorialization, they must confront their own involvement and possible guilt. Many were so caught up in the propaganda, that they find it difficult to admit that they did something wrong when they sent their relatives to certain death. Irene Leitner, Director at Schloss Hartheim memorial centre, states that some family members did not want their name included on the memorial boards as there was such a strong negative connotation to admitting that they had someone with mental or physical disabilities in their family. Such actions from family members perpetuate the notion that this topic is not worthy of apt memorialization, and that there is still a strong negative taboo against being labelled as ‘disabled’.

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But, if as previous discussed, people are reluctant to address a group that evokes a deep sense of fear for one’s own mortality and suggests a degree of pity, then it is not surprising that few are championing for memorialization on their behalf. The ideological effects of previous media have only reinforced the representation of disability as an abnormality (Barnes and Mercer

517). Through mass culture, people have been conditioned that the representation of disability is something which is negative in society. If there are no examples of positive representations of people with disability, people are ingrained with only one aspect of impairment. As such, there is the potential danger for the avoidance of the topic. People might also be reluctant to visit one of the Aktion T4 memorial sites as they must confront not only the history, but emotions of , sadness, or guilt associated with a horrific Nazi past. As all of the memorial sites are currently functioning institutions for people with mental and physical disabilities, the visitor must also encounter people with disabilities. Since many people with disabilities remain marginalized outside of the general community, there is a danger that they may still be viewed as a ‘freak’ or the ‘other’. This compounding of witnessing the former victim group along-side memorials and information about the grim history is very difficult for the visitor, and serves as another deterrent to evade the subject.

Visiting the memorial sites also elicits a conflicted feeling for visitors; they invariably compare themselves to the disabled victims, and feel relief that they themselves are not disabled.

Through this confrontation with an “otherness”, the emotion of the visitor feeling better about themselves for not being disabled after visiting such sites can be compared to Ato Quayson’s notion of the representation of disability as a ‘moral test’8. People can feel better about themselves by visiting the sites, to prove to themselves that they are different from the victims,

8 Please see Chapter 4 for a further discussion of Quayson’s typology of the representation of disability in literature.

8 and can feel good about being socially conscious to visit the site to memorialize the victims and participate in the memory work.

What also clouds the discussion in connection to the topic of the representation of disability is that many of those who lost their lives to the Aktion T4 murders did not have a traditional disability. Some were war invalids, criminals, alcoholics, and delinquents9. While those with such traits were considered to be ‘undesirable’ by the National Socialists, such conditions are not viewed as disabilities in current discourse. This complicates the examination of the representation of Aktion T4 victims, and how one remembers such victims. For the purpose of this dissertation, all victims of Aktion T4 have been included in the examination of memorialization.

The field of Disability Studies continues to bring social awareness and acceptance for people with disabilities, and undoubtedly changes will continue to occur in the way in which the public views and treats people with disabilities. Social signifiers such as Braille text, which is included throughout the exhibit at Schloss Hartheim, and increased accessibility, such as ramps and elevators at the memorial sites, reflect changes in society’s attitude on impairment, and the onus to ensure the topic of treatment of disabilities is brought to the forefront. While there still exists a natural impulse to turn away from and avoid disability, one must be mindful of the complete evasion of the subject. In his seminal work on disability, Michael Oliver warns that people are averting their eyes from the current negative treatment of people with disabilities, much as they did during the time of National Socialist rule.

9 For more information on the history of Aktion T4, and the history of the selection process for the programme, please see Chapter 1.

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B. Hippocratic Hypocrisy: Medicine and Aktion T4

Another explanation for the void in memorialization lies with the perpetrators of Aktion

T4. The number of those involved was not restricted to the four physicians-in-charge and ten assistant physicians at the six killing centres, but a wide-spread web of doctors, nurses, caregivers, and scientists throughout Germany and Upper Austria. Some historians have argued that of the 90,000 physicians in Germany active at the time, only 35010 actually participated in medical crimes (Friedlander 311). Their responsibility ranged from the actual gassing on site

[Tatnahe Täter], to collaborators [Mitläufer] and bureaucratic killers [Schreibtischtäter]. The significance of the physicians and scientists in Aktion T4 is vast: for they “proposed, justified, and managed the killings” (Friedlander 216). It is important to not only acknowledge the historical significance of the doctors involved, but also investigate the judicial and societal repercussions that the perpetrators faced in German and Austrian society.

Who were these ‘Angels of Death’ (Friedlander 216) who had sworn to the Hippocratic

Oath, to ethically protect and heal, and yet were capable of murdering the disabled patients11?

Many older and more-well established physicians did not accept the positions of physician-in- charge of the six killing centres, but they were not innocent of killing patients by means of injections, tablets or starvation at other institutions (Friedlander 216). It was the younger, ambitious, and aggressive doctors who ran the Aktion T4 sites (ibid). These young men, many of whom had no previous experience as certified physicians, were impressed by senior

10 At the six killing centres 60 doctors were employed, with overlapping functions at different centres. 11 Questions can be raised about the overall function of medical doctors at the killing centres. There is no record of experiments or operations taking place on site, and patients arriving never were admitted to the institution, but rather systematically sent through to their deaths. suggests three possible reasons why doctors were employed at the six centres; to have one final look at the patients’ medical records, to provide ‘credible’ falsified death certificates, and perhaps most importantly, to maintain the appearance that the centres were medical institutions, and to disguise their true killing function. The fact remains however, that the primary function of the physicians at these sites and at children’s euthanasia clinics was to kill innocent victims. That they had a medical degree was actually beside the point (ibid).

10 physicians involved in Aktion T4, and sought advancement in their careers (Friedlander 225).

Many were also zealous supporters of the “destruction of ” (ibid and Lifton

427), and were so supportive of Aktion T4 that they even defended their involvement in the euthanasia programme after the war (Friedlander 229). The strong ‘word-of-mouth’ connections from doctors in prominent universities allowed for the hiring of the young inexperienced doctors, and then later contributed to a veil of silence.

Scholars have questioned the motivation those in this curing profession to become so involved in an area that was so antithetical to their previous experience as a healer (Lifton 419), and suddenly become killers. Psychiatrist Lifton speaks to the polarity of good and evil, and the ‘doubling’ paradox of being both healer and killer. Many doctors involved claimed that they had “left the Hippocratic sphere” (Lifton 456), and were in fact helping, both to ease the pain of the disabled victims, but also for the betterment of a more racially-pure society. Lifton puts forth the idea of ‘doubling’, in the sense of a sort of “Faustian bargain”, in that the psyche of a doctor could be split into both healer and killer. Those involved in the medical profession would be more susceptible to the numbing involved in this duality of healer and killer, due to graphic and intense medical training. Doctors develop an accepted medical numbing, as their initial educationally training includes examining “corpses, blood and gore” (Lifton 426). Not every doctor could be turned into a killer, but that the “doctors who ended up undergoing the extreme doubling necessitated by the “euthanasia” killing centers and the death camps were probably unusually susceptible to doubling” (Lifton 427). Those involved in Aktion T4 were also “particularly prone to schizoid tendencies, or prone to numbing and omnipotence-sadism”

(ibid).

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Many of the doctors claimed they were also able to carry out the necessary duties as they didn’t believe they were doing anything wrong, and that they were merely following orders. The

German legal system also allowed for many of the perpetrators to evade prosecution. A court later stated that the killing of the insane constituted the lesser charge of manslaughter, and not murder (Friedlander 229). Until 1997, German penal code upheld that the “definition of murder did not apply in the case of mentally handicapped persons, as such persons were not capable of reasoning” (Seidelman 102). 14 nurses at the hospital in Obrawalde-Muritz were acquitted of the charge of administrating lethal overdoses to mental patients, under the guise that they were doing their job (ibid). Many doctors were able to justify their actions, but Lifton warns that by doing so, they were unable to confront their ‘Nazi self’, which led to a lack of

“moral clarity concerning [his] contemporary self” (Lifton 457). As such, the lack of an admission of guilt and confrontation with the significance of the medicalized killings12 allowed for the doctors to continue practicing without associations of guilt for doing an unethical deed.

Not all doctors, however, were able to cast aside their culpability for wrongdoings, and there were a large number of , much more so than in other professions (Lifton 458)13.

Reprimand or Reinstatement: Doctors after the War

As light was shed on the gruesome actions that took place during Nazi control, the doctors who were involved in the Aktion T4 programme later faced a variety of fates. A number of those involved were prosecuted, by East or West German courts, and also by international courts, albeit often with light sentences, or commuted life sentences. Some fled the country to live under an assumed name in South America or Africa. And, as with many professions after

12 Robert Lifton defines medicalized killing as “the surgical method of killing large numbers of people by means of a controlled technology making use of highly poisonous gas” (Lifton 15). 13 It has also been reported that many committee not only with moral reasons, but also to avoid being brought before judicial heresy.

12 the end of WWII, many doctors involved with the euthanasia killings were simply reinstated back into society and into prominent positions in the medical and academic community. They discarded their Nazi past and “presented themselves as decent and moderate postwar German burgher-physicians of a conservative stamp” (Lifton 457). They did not need to flee to another part of Germany to avoid controversy or , but rather became prominent, conscientious, much-admired doctors in their home regions (ibid).

Nonetheless, not all doctors were able to avoid legal prosecution14. The

Doctors’ Trial15, one of 12 trials for war crimes conducted by authority, charged twenty German doctors with crimes against humanity16. Many of the charges stemmed from their involvement with experiments in concentration and extermination camps, and not from the actions associated with the euthanasia programme. Only four of the defendants, including Dr.

Karl Brandt, co-head of the Aktion T4 programme, were charged with crimes related to the euthanasia programme, and these four were all sentenced to death17. Many of the ‘assistant to the chief’ physicians at the killing centres were also charged, but received relatively light sentences, or were acquitted18. None of the four ‘physicians-in-charge’ at the gassing centres received death sentences, as two committed suicide before conviction, one was killed in combat, and one fled to Africa. It thus stands that those who actually did the killings at the six centres received little to light reprimand, while the bureaucratic killers received a harsher punishment.

14 Henry Friedlander notes a difference in prosecution in both Germanys. There were stronger convictions and the practice of hunting for war criminals was more thorough in former , as anticommunism had been a “centerpiece for Nazi ideology” (Friedlander 304). 15 See Chapter Two for more detailed information about this trial. 16 There were 23 defendants at the trial. Twenty were medical doctors, Brack, R.Brandt, and Sievers were Nazi officials. 17 Of the 23 defendants, 7 were given death sentences, 7 were acquitted, and the others were sentenced to 10 years to life, of which many of these sentenced were commuted to a lesser time period. 18 See Appendix B for sentences.

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One possible reason for this discrepancy could be that the full scope and significance of the involvement in killing was not fully known at the time of the trials (Lifton 18).

Public Acceptance or Apathy

Historians have identified many doctors and scientists who were successful in obtaining high ranking employment in hospitals and universities immediately following the war19. Some were able to evade or avoid public scrutiny, but were eventually brought to trial in the late 1960s when more public awareness on the subject brought a renewed sense of justice. The field of medicine was also an area which was relatively overlooked by the Allied forces. Western occupation forces were eager to see the economic redevelopment of the country, and were notoriously lenient on perpetrations in the reconstruction of German industry and academia

(Friedlander 301). The aforementioned statement is strongly reinforced by the fact that four of the defendants of the Nuremberg Medical Trial were hired by the United States shortly after the war to take part in a project to examine developments made in German science during WWII

(Friedlander 302, Rosenbaum 69). The scientific information gathered at the expense of innocent victims during WWII was sometimes seen as an asset after the war for those seeking employment in universities20. While it is clear that overt was purged from medicine, many of the research interests remained unchanged (Friedlander 308). Racial hygienists now became “human geneticists” (Müller-Hill 198), but the scientific ideology and goals remained in part constant. An example of the deferral of guilt away from the study of eugenics occurred in

1955 when Eugen Fischer, one of the leading German figures in eugenics, was outspoken in his

19 Henry Friedlander makes special mention of Dr. , who was appointed professor of paediatrics and director of a children’s clinic at the University of . After many unsuccessful attempts to bring him to court, he was granted immunity in 1964 because he was convinced of the legality of his actions. He continued to publish on the subject of euthanasia until the late 1970s (Friedlander 300). 20 See Otmar von Verschuer – Friedlander 308

14 distress that the study of eugenics was hit so hard and tainted by the events during the war

(Müller-Hill 197). However, this is not to say that this was solely a German phenomenon.

Immediately after the war in the medical community, there was silence surrounding

Aktion T4, euthanasia, and eugenics. This was the case for both the German human geneticists, and their international colleagues (Müller-Hill 197). The topic was also absent from scholarly work conducted by historians of science (Müller-Hill 185). Instead the emphasis in medical journals was to return medicine to the “time-honored tradition of impersonal objectivity and serious research” that existed before the war (Friedlander 302). Journals mentioned the “terrible years” and “isolation” of German science during the war, but did not include any sense of grief or “soul-searching” (ibid). Medical books were considerably rewritten to purge the genetic texts of Nazi ideology. This sustained silence surrounding the topic was not uncommon, however, as it abounded in many fields (S. Friedlander 259)

Nevertheless, limited examples of the confrontation with the past in the medical field do exist. In 1961, Karl Saller published a book on anthropology during the Nazi period, entitled

The Racial Theory of National Socialism in Science and Propaganda. He was immediately shunned by German colleagues for bringing public attention to the topic (Müller-Hill 197) and identifying persons involved with the Aktion T4 murders. Perhaps the most damning evidence into the cover-up of materials released to the public occurred in 1949, with the first publication of Alexander Mitscherlich and Fred Mielke’s condensed version of the material presented at the

Nuremberg Trial, entitled Das Diktat der Menschenverachtung [The Dictates of Inhumanity].

There was an initial publication of 10,000 copies, but the title soon disappeared from book shelves, and not one review or mention of the book was to be found in medical literature

(Friedlander 309, Lifton 457). It was as if the book had never been published. Many doctors

15 feared the full disclosure that would come from the release of the text, and it is said that German doctors bought up the entire printing to prevent the book from being read and brought to the public (ibid). In this regard, the “past was buried, and along with this, the moral and political questions raised by the participation of doctors in National Socialist policies” (Friedlander 310).

The horrific past of the medical community during Nazi time was thus kept secret from the general public, until more questions began to be raised in the 1960s by the student movements, and further still in the 1980s and the reunification of Germany (Friedlander 311).

An ethical dilemma remained with the medical field’s use of specimens collected during

Aktion T4, and from other medical experiments during Nazi control. These samples were used in research institutes and clinics in Germany until 1990 (Seidelman 99), and in Austria until the beginning of 2000 (Berlinger). The brain specimens were used for research that was published in major medical journals since the war, but the background history of how the samples came to be collected was not discussed.

Ich klage an21?: The failure to prosecute

There was little will to seek justice within the medical community, as many of the former perpetrators were current colleagues, friends, and acquaintances. The former Aktion T4 and euthanasia doctors shed their Nazi past, and quickly returned to practice medicine in leading universities and clinics without afterthought. Doctors did not wish to point their fingers at each other, as it would be hard to accuse others, without accepting part of the blame for one’s own involvement. The documentary Gray Matter, about the Nazi doctor Heinrich Gross, who avoided prosecution and punishment and was a famous medical witness for the Austrian courts,

21 “Ich klage an” (1941) was a famous National Socialist pro-Euthanasia propaganda film.

16 exemplifies the difficulty in bringing fellow colleagues to court. Those who did seek public awareness or disclosure of the subject, such as Karl Saller and his 1961 book, faced extreme persecution within the medical community. Müller-Hill states that it is not until all the perpetrators are dead, that full disclosure and investigation can actually occur.

In his examination of the Nuremberg Medical Trial, Alan S. Rosenbaum stresses the importance of seeking justice for those involved in the crimes. “In holding the perpetrators of the most serious crimes accountable for their actions, we also demonstrate the seriousness in which we respect such considerations as the principles of justice” (Rosenbaum 2). While this statement is correct for present times and the current attention on the subject of the doctors involvement in Aktion T4, the converse can said about the failure to hold those involved in the euthanasia programme accountable directly after the war and in the mid 20th century. The prevailing sentiment was that those involved did nothing wrong, and they were often excluded from justice, as they were innocent for merely following orders. Whether it was from the lack of public awareness on the topic of euthanasia crimes, or the difficulty of finding contemporaries guilty of murder, the fact remains that this void in memory and reluctance to seek closure and convictions in the courts greatly contributed to the stunted memorialization practices of Aktion

T4 victims. If life was able to continue as normal without acknowledging the involvement of certain doctors in the Aktion T4 murders, it was extremely difficult to begin memorialization of the subject.

17

C. Germans as Victims22: Confronting the Taboo

In considering how the German population is to be associated with the events and memorialization of the Second World War, it has been generally perceived that Germans were to be identified as the perpetrators, and not as the victims. It was difficult to deviate from these archetypes. In Luftkrieg und Literatur (1999), W.G. Sebald writes that there is “a kind of taboo like a shameful family secret, a secret that perhaps could not even be privately acknowledged”

(Sebald 10), in correlation to the concept of German suffering in WWII. Although difficult to discuss, this secret became something that served to bind Germans together (Sebald 13).

Speaking about German loss and wartime suffering was a delicate and cautious subject matter which was all but obliterated in favour of discussing the role of Germans as the aggressive perpetrators. However, by focusing exclusively on the rhetoric of Germans as perpetrators, there left “no space to mourn what others had done to them.” (Moeller 149).

Following an era of silence on the crimes of the Nazis following the war, the 1960s were a time of investigation into the historical events, as well as an establishing of commemorative practices for the victims of the Holocaust. Moeller argues that a subsequent change occurred in the mid-1980s to further analyze who was to be included in the term ‘victim’. He states that many believed that “histories of National Socialism failed adequately to describe the suffering endured by millions of Germans – in uniform at Stalingrad and behind barbed wire of Soviet prisoner-of-war camps, in bombed-out homes and in flight from the Red Army as it swept though eastern Europe into areas occupied by the Nazis and then into Germany itself.” (Moeller

150). However, these calls for the re-evaluation of German victimization were met with controversy. Many believed that calls to remember the losses of German citizens would “lead in

22 Often this term is followed by a question mark, thus further indicating a hesitation in identifying German peoples as victims of WWII.

18 the direction of apologia and the false equation of German suffering with the crimes committed by Germans” (ibid) 23.

The topic of German wartime suffering has been established as a field of scholarship.

Since the early 2000s, scholars such as Robert G. Moeller, Bill Niven, and Keith Bullivant have written extensively on the topic of German wartime suffering24. The stigma of speaking about

Germans as victims of WWII has changed significantly in recent years. Günter Grass, in addressing the topic of the “future of memory” in 2000, states that “we remember only belatedly and with hesitation the suffering that came to Germans during the war.” (Grass qtd. in Moeller

148). In an earlier text, Sebald identifies several examples of literary texts which include the topic of victimization of the German people in the British and American air raid bombings in

Luftkrieg und Literatur. In 2002, Grass published Im Krebsgang, a novel which brought renewed public awareness to the expulsion of Germans from Eastern Europe.

What creates problems for the memorialization of Aktion T4 victims is the fact that

Germans were both perpetrators and victims. Whereas for the examples provided by Sebald25 and Grass, some distance can be placed between the victims and perpetrators, be it the British,

Americans, or Russians, for the case of Aktion T4, there is no distance. In acknowledging the

23 There are two examples of public outrage over a deemed amalgamation of victim groups. In 1990, German Chancellor Helmut Kohl erected a moment to the victims of “war and tyranny” in the Neue Wache building in Berlin. By not differentiating between the intended victims, assumptions were made that anyone who suffered during the war, be it Jewish victims, or those who died fighting for Hitler, could be simultaneously represented by the monument. This “implied equality” (Ladd 220) drew extreme protest. Victim groups were not explicitly named as such, but the overarching term of ‘victims of war and tyranny’ could include all victims. In his 1985 visit to Bitburg, US President joined Kohl in commemorating the victims. He stated that they were honouring the soldiers of the Waffen-SS, who were also victims as were the victims in the concentration camps. This statement received criticism. 24 All are careful not to diminish or exclude information about the extent of the role of Germans as perpetrators, but wish to present a more comprehensive account of Germans also as victims. 25 Within Hans Erich Nossack’s account of the bombings of , Sebald has identified a sense of “just punishment” or “act of retribution” from German victims surrounding the British bombings (Sebald 14). This is not the case with Aktion T4 as the victims were seen to be innocent patients.

19

German victims, one must conversely acknowledge the guilt of the German perpetrators. It is this aspect of shame which makes it difficult to discuss the topic of Germans being at once both the victims and the perpetrators. Saul Friedlander writes, “[t]he victims of Nazism cope with a fundamental traumatic situation, whereas many Germans have to cope with a widening stain, with potential shame or guilt.” (S. Friedlander 257). There is thus a reluctance to memorialize this victim group as it will additionally require an exploration and admission of another layer of guilt. While it is clear that, in other instances related to WWII and the Holocaust, the German population has acknowledged their involvement and guilt, the memorialization of Aktion T4 remains overlooked, due to the complex and delicate intertwining of the German population being at once perpetrators and victims in one action. The lack of distancing between both factions ensures that the memory work is substantially more difficult as compared to other WWII events.

While Stier speaks of the overarching complexity of reconstructing the past within the constraints of the present (Stier 4), this is even more difficult in the case of Aktion T4. At the location of each of the memorial centres is currently a functioning institution for people with mental and physical disabilities. Thus the current residents of the institutions are directly contrasted with the past victim group. This difficult permutation of past and present, and of history of perpetrators and display of victims, creates problems for memorialization. Under current paradigms of isolating the roles of perpetrator and victim, the direct comingling of perpetrator and victim in such a visual manner at the memorial sites makes it difficult for the visitor, as one cannot easily distinguish one group from the other. They are perpetually intertwined. Feelings of guilt, shame, and sadness abound, and are applied to both groups. This makes for a convoluted environment and hinders a productive working through of the past.

20

It has become ever increasingly important to examine the role of Germans as victims.

Moeller argues strongly that representing the past in all of its complexity is a better way to understand history. While his argument is certainly not directed or including of the victims of

Aktion T4, but rather everyday victims of the war, the concept of recognizing Germans as victims can be applied in this situation. Moeller writes that such an undertaking “would be a history that denied no victim the right to mourn while prohibiting any attempt to establish the moral equivalence of victims of Germans and German victims, or to explain German suffering as the quid quo pro for the suffering inflicted on others by Germans.” (Moeller 177) Thus seeing

Germans as victims would allow for a broadening of memorialization for Aktion T4, as it would diminish the taboo of representing Germans as victims of World War Two.

D. Lives Worthy of Remembrance

It is clear that there has been what Saul Friedlander calls a sustained silence surrounding the memorialization of Aktion T4. Remembering the mentally and physically disabled victims of Nazi euthanasia has been overlooked in the greater Holocaust memorialization. There has been a protective numbness surrounding the WWII memorialization in general as a way to work through the past (S. Friedlander 51), but the silence surrounding the topic of Aktion T4 is much greater than other areas. Sebald goes so far as to acknowledge a form of a ‘right to silence’, as it is “impossible to gauge the depths of trauma suffered by those who came away from the cpicenters of catastrophe” (Sebald 89). However, this silence is detrimental for the productive working through of the past: not only are the victims forgotten, but conversely the perpetrators as well (Rosenbaum 70). The victims of National Socialist euthanasia are destined to remain a marginalized group today unless both the victims and the perpetrators are identified.

21

The most important question is how one remembers Aktion T4, and what social and historical forces have affected the memorialization process. Though the lenses of monuments, art, site museums, and literature, this dissertation will examine the void in memorialization of

Aktion T4, and the factors which have affected the commemoration of this important event.

These mediums are used to map historical and social changes in the landscape related to the memorialization and representation of Aktion T4 and disability in Germany.

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Chapter 1 : History and Origins of Aktion T4

“The investigation of human eugenics, that is, of the conditions under which men of a high type are produced” Francis Galton, 188326

Euthanasia: a gentle and easy death

Oxford English Dictionary

The mass murdering of German and Austrian citizens deemed mentally and physically inferior by the National Socialist party represents an important defining moment in World War

II. This euthanasia27 programme, which was carried out in accordance with the party’s policies on , saw to the systematic murdering of over 70,000 adults and children28. The origins of this action were not based solely on virulent anti-Semitism, but the desire to create a race that was biologically superior. Various factors, including the loss of many ‘able bodied citizens’ in , and rampant propaganda which exaggerated facts about the care of mentally and physically handicapped citizens, fueled popular support for the mercy killing or sterilization of those believed to be biologically inferior. Although the field of eugenics was

26 Oxford English Dictionary 27 Many scholars do not approve of the term “euthanasia” to refer to this action, as it camouflages the mass murder with a medical term. (Lifton, Introduction to Part I) Henry Friedlander makes special mention of the use of language in his work The Origins of Nazi Genocide. He agrees that the term euthanasia is a “euphemism to disguise [the] murder of the handicapped”, and it should have “nothing to do with the common [medical] meaning of the word” (Friedlander xxi). To ease in the reading of his text, he does not use quotation marks around the term, unlike other authors such as Lifton. Following Friedlander’s example, I will not use quotation marks with this word, with the understanding that it refers to the Nazi action of the mass murder of mentally and physically disabled people. 28 The number varies depending on the source, and which racial hygiene acts are included in the total. The following estimations have been given: 70,273 (Friedlander, “Origins of Nazi Genocide” 109; Proctor 191), 80,000 – 100,000 adults from institutions, 5,000 children from institutions (Lifton 142), 200,000+ (Burleigh, “Nazi “Euthanasia” Programs”, 153), (Aly, “Medicine against the Useless”, 22). Lifton notes, “[w]hile these figures may seem unimpressive when placed next to the millions killed in the , they represent the murder of shockingly large numbers of people – all in places characterized as hospitals” (Lifton 142).

23 originally considered to be a ‘science’ to categorize races, its consequences turned deadly during the Third Reich. The increase in public support and general complacency within German society during the , allowed the to put into practice measures to systematically eliminate an unwanted section of society. The uncontested actions of sterilization and euthanasia of a section of society symbolized the start of a dangerous trend of passive complacency on behalf of the Germany population, which allowed the Nazi party to conduct their murderous actions without protest. Götz Aly poses an important question: if people did not protest against the murdering of their own kin, how could they be expected to react against the murdering of other marginalized groups? (Aly Medicine against the Useless 93)29. Scholars, such as Henry Friedlander, , and Robert N. Proctor, purport that the action of murdering mentally and physically disabled German and Austrian citizens represents a major phase leading to the Holocaust30. It is thus important to examine this moment in history and its effect on the Final Solution in order to gain a better understanding of its significance for memorialization.

A: The ‘Science’ of Selection

The origins of eugenics and racial stereotyping did not originate with and the

National Socialists. Scholars, such as Proctor and Burleigh, also assert this fact. Its origins can be traced back to scientists such as Charles Darwin, and his 1859 publication On the Origins of

Species by Means of Natural Selection. Building on this treatise, and resulting in a

29 As will be discussed later, many families willingly surrendered their kin to Nazi eugenic and euthanasia programmes. 30 Although many scholars concur that this is an important phase leading to the later Holocaust, Sheila Faith Weiss argues in her chapter “German Eugenics, 1890 – 1933”, that although there is a link, “[s]imply to view the German eugenics movement as a direct and inevitable precursor to Nazism would be a distortion” (Weiss 15). She notes that German racial hygiene was not rooted in anti-Semitism. She does, however, acknowledge that both Nazi racial ideology and German racial hygiene “shared common beliefs in the central role of heredity in determining physical and mental traits and in the innate inequality of individuals and groups” (ibid).

24 bastardization of his theories, the idea that there was an inherent degree of human inequality was widely accepted as matter of fact by the German scientific community (Friedlander 1). In 1883, the term ‘eugenics’ was coined by Darwin’s cousin, Francis Galton, who adapted the Greek idea of ‘good birth’, to include “the principle of strengthening a biological group on the basis of ostensible hereditary worth” (Lifton 24). Eugenics focused on the concept of

‘feeblemindedness’, which was categorized by those considered in layman’s terms to be ‘idiots, imbeciles, morons’, and the term’s connection to crime rates, and immorality (Friedlander 6).

Eugenics in Germany experienced flourishing popularity after the 1900 rediscovery of the

Austrian monk and naturalist Gregor Mendel’s theories on the laws on inheritance31. Other leading racial scientists in Germany included Eugen Fischer and Fritz Lenz32.

The field of eugenics was practiced not only in Germany, but by leading scientists in many international countries including Sweden, , the United States, , Great

Britain, and , where “in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, utopian dreams of perfecting humanity by manipulating heredity seduced many scientists and scientific- minded reformers” (Bachrach 3). The rapid changes in technology and industrialization at that time were echoed in a desire to make drastic changes in the biological make up of the population.

During this period, it was speculated that “[s]cience, not religion or philosophy, would direct humanity toward a biological, social, and moral utopia” (Nicosia and Huener 5) and the concept of flourished. International examples of eugenics can be found in the 16,000

31 Mendelian laws purport that “individuals of low intelligence tend to breed faster” (Müller-Hill 185) and “physical characteristics and family data […] account for the inheritance of a variety of medical afflictions and social behaviors in genetic terms” (Kevles 42). Mendel’s paper was originally published in 1866. 32 Fischer claimed, “that the science of genetics has shown that “all human traits- normal or pathological, physical or mental – are shaped by hereditary factors” (qtd. in Proctor 286). Lenz advocated “organic socialism” and he “feared that, without a radical eugenics project, “our [Nordic] race is doomed to ”” (qtd. in Lifton 24).

25 procedures of forced sterilization performed in the United States between 1907 and 193333

(Bachrach 7). Advancements in the field of eugenics on the international scene caused many

German racial hygienists to be worried during World War I that their adversaries might surpass them in racial health (Proctor 99), and caused Germany to increase research in the field.

Scholars such as Bachrach note that Germany sought to keep up with international eugenic practices. They learned techniques from countries such as America, but the momentum built far beyond their fellow scientists, and murderous results ensued. It was at this time that Social

Darwinism was perverted to extreme measures34.

One of the first examples of eugenics in international practice was the sterilizing of those assumed to have inferior hereditary traits. Although the act was often hotly contested, propagandistic information on cost saving advantages of sterilization during the Great

Depression eventually convinced many, including religious groups (Weiss 27, 37, 39)35, that sterilization was a viable option for society. In North America, there was more support for sterilization than for institutionalizing people, especially as an economic measure to save money.

In an attempt to prevent the so-called feebleminded from reproducing, the patient could be sterilized and released back into society, thus avoiding the costs of keeping them in an institution

(Kevles 51). The costly housing of inmates in prisons was also a consideration in Germany and abroad. Eugenics gained further support when it was realized that sterilizing criminals could save money, as it was believed that criminals produced a “degenerate lineage” (Massin 100) of

33 Large numbers of forced sterilization procedures also occurred in Canada and Switzerland. Denmark also introduced a voluntary sterilization law, but it had limited use (Bachrach 7). 34 In the United States, the study of eugenic eventually lost public support and “scientific acceptance”, and many eugenic principles were rejected, especially when they were compared to what was happening in Germany (Friedlander 10). 35 It must be noted that some religious groups adamantly disagreed with sterilization. The Roman vehemently opposed sterilization in the United States (Kevles 58).

26 future criminals, and thus it was easier, and more cost effective, to sterilize the person, than to try to rehabilitate the inmate, or house their potential offspring.

In the international community, the field of eugenics was split into two fractions: positive and negative eugenics. These two measures sought “the purification of the national body” and the “eradication of morbid hereditary dispositions” respectively (Lifton 42). Within Germany, positive eugenics promoted large, healthy, families. Social benefits were often given to larger families with desired hereditary traits. Negative eugenics, on the other hand, sought to eliminate the propagating of unwanted traits. Examples of negative eugenics include the sterilization of those deemed to be of poor racial stock, immigration restrictions, and marriage laws restricting the marriage between undesirable groups. In Germany, were generally prohibited, and seen as a form of negative eugenics, but a pregnancy could be terminated, if it was concluded that it was a “racial emergency” (Lifton 42).

Originally euthanasia was not supported in Germany, but it was later tolerated as an alternative form of negative eugenics. The first proponent of mercy killing was the theorist

Adolf Jost, who, in 1895, wrote the book Das Recht auf den Tod [The Right to Death]. His biological argument stated “[t]he state must own death – must kill – in order to keep the social organism alive and healthy” (Lifton 46). The concept of medicalized killing was furthered much stronger in and ’s 1920 published Die Freigabe der Vernichtung lebensunwerten Lebens [The Permission to Destroy Life Unworthy of Life]. These scholars argued for legal killing for the ill, and the right to suicide; the right to live should not be merely assumed, but it must be earned (Proctor 178). They further posited that the “empty human husks” that were taking up places in institutions have no real value to life, and “their destruction is not only tolerable but humane” (ibid).

27

While genetics focused on creating solutions to problems of alleged moral decay, the field was also highly politicized. According to Massin, “during the 1920s, racial hygiene became a favorite field of völkish [racial] nationalism, and most anthropologists were staunch völkish nationalists. They believed race was the key to everything and that politics should be based on race” (Massin 93). As the National Socialists gained power, the politics of creating the became more prevalent in medical discussions. As will be discussed later in this chapter, anti-Semitic attitudes would become more ubiquitous in the field of racial hygiene and medicine in Germany. Whereas the original concept of eugenics was derived from scientific selection principles, the study was perverted to justify the elimination of unwanted races. By the conclusion of Aktion T4, it blatantly included Jewish people for extermination.

B: Lebensunwerten Leben: Eugenics to Mass Murder in Germany

The origins of eugenics in Germany can be traced back to as early as 1890 when there was a strong connection between eugenics and the concept of Volk [the German people]. The study of eugenics was originally a reform movement, which sought to examine and find a scientific solution to poverty, alcoholism, crime, venereal diseases, and tuberculosis, which were believed to be a result of the increase in urbanization and industrialization (Weiss 17). The field of eugenics experienced a resurgence in popularity in 1900 after the reexamination of Mendel’s

Laws. The actual naming of the purported science differed in Germany than that of its international counterparts. Two initial suggestions were Erbhygiene [hereditary hygiene], and

Fortpflanzungshygiene [reproductive hygiene]. However, Alfred Ploetz, one of the founders of

German eugenics, coined the term Rassenhygiene [race hygiene] in his 1895 book Die

Tüchtigkeit unserer Rasse und der Schutz der Schwachen, [The Fitness of Our Race and the

Protection of the Weak]. (H Friedlander 11; Weiss 19). Thus racial hygiene was the term, which

28 was eventually used to denote the study of eugenics in Germany. The word Rasse [race] was used to examine “any interbreeding human population that, over the course of generations, could demonstrate similar physical and mental traits” (Weiss 19), and not solely confined to the study of one specific race. During the National Socialist period, the term was later distorted to include radical racial anti-Semitism36.

Those in the medical field initially readily supported the study of eugenics. As explained by Michael Burleigh,

[t]he reasons why [German doctors and psychiatrists] were enthusiastic about eugenics are not especially difficult to fathom. Eugenics promised to raise the status of an intermediary class of professional experts, regardless of their motives. As they saw it, they would, in their extended reveries, become biocratic sentinels guarding the national gene pool, a project with tremendous appeal to those whose unromanticized role in life was dispensing aspirins and suppositories, dealing with the delinquent or difficult, or, in the case of psychiatrists, warehousing the chronically mentally ill and retarded”. (Burleigh 116)

Many of the influential “serious and respected scholars and physicians” (Proctor 285) were involved in the field of racial hygiene, and they supported this ‘science’ as a legitimate field of study37. “Nazi racial theory and practice were not the product of a tiny brand of marginal or psychotic individuals” and the scientists “were among the top professionals in their fields”

(Proctor 284). It must be reiterated that the emphasis of the science in the period leading up to the Third Reich was not anti-Semitic or the Entnordung [de-nordification] of the German people, but rather “about the declining birthrate and growing number of mentally ill in state institutions.

[It] stressed both the importance of population growth for maintaining national strength and the

36 While it is easy to acknowledge the negative aspects of racial hygiene in Germany, Robert N. Proctor has done significant research on the Nazis constructive research on alcoholism and lung cancer. (See “The Nazi Campaign against Tobacco”, Racial Hygiene: Medicine und the Nazis, The Nazi War on Cancer) 37 In his chapter “Reflections of a German Scientist”, Benno Müller-Hill brings attention to the debate of whether or not the German field of racial hygiene can be considered a ‘science’ or ‘pseudoscience’. While the field was later heavily influenced and tainted by National Socialist anti-Semitic ideologies, Müller-Hill argues that racial hygiene should be considered a science. He supports this by defining ‘science’ “as what the majority of scientists working in the field call science at the time it is being done” (Müller-Hill 185).

29 links between “racial fitness” and national efficiency” (Proctor 20). There was thus a strong sense of biological romanticism in a return to the pure Volk.

There were other factors that influenced the study of eugenics in Germany. The falling birthrate in the middle and upper classes caused alarm, especially as the birth rate increased amongst the lower classes. The field of eugenics perpetuated the notion that the upper classes would bear more positive additions to society in the form of increased reproduction, and thus there was a strong emphasis on positive eugenics, which would strengthen the nation through more births with desired traits. After 1938, the Nazis issued Ehrenkreuz der deutschen Mutter

[Honour Crosses of German Motherhood] to women with multiple children, as an incentive to produce large, strong German families38. The Nazis inundated the population with other techniques such as “propaganda, financial incentives, and special benefits” (Proctor 121), in an attempt to raise the birth rate of Germans deemed racially valuable for society. Despite the increase of positive eugenic measures, a radical change in 1933 would bring about a strong shift towards the field of negative eugenics, in the form of the Sterilization Law.

The Rise of Racial Hygiene

In Germany, racial hygiene gained momentum in scholarly research and public support after World War I, and further through to the Weimar Republic. There was a general understanding that “the best young men died in the war, causing a loss to the Volk (or to the society) of the best available genes. The genes of those who did not fight (the worst genes) then proliferated freely, accelerating biological and cultural degeneration” (Lifton 47). While nearly

2,000,000 “wertvoll” [valuable] (Böhm 38) soldiers were killed in battle, and many families survived with little support, the state financially supported the care of mentally and physically

38 A bronze cross was issued for 4-5 children, silver for 6-7, and a gold cross for 8 or more children (Bock 82). Such positive eugenic methods were also employed in Canada and Japan, where monetary gifts were given for large families (Proctor 120-121).

30 disabled citizens in institutions. While not specifically mentioning race in their 1920 treatise,

Binding and Hoche make the following patriotic statement in connection to those who lost their lives during WWI. .

If one imagines … a battlefield covered with thousands of dead youths … and then our institutions for idiots and their care … one is most appalled by … the of the best of humanity while the best care is lavished on life of negative worth. (Massin 128)

In following Darwinian principles, many eugenic supporters argued that “modern medicine, charity, and welfare programs” disrupted the course of natural selection (Bachrach 5).

The institutionalizing and state care of patients with mental and physical disabilities was not new to Germany at the turn of the century. The first psychiatric institution was created in

Pirna in 1811 (Böhm 18). It was common practice for people with disabilities to either live in institutions, where they often received “competent medical care, rehabilitation for work, and education” (Poore 1), or with their families. The public opinion of people with disabilities was varied; some were hidden away by their embarrassed families, some were treated as “freaks” at fairs, and some were able to find their place in society (ibid). With the rapid industrialization of the Weimar Republic and a strong emphasis placed on health and beauty, the public perception about disabilities was altered, and representations of disabled people in art and literature increased dramatically during this time. The representation and opinion about mentally and physically disabled people fell into a drastic dichotomy: pitiful, ill, ugly, repellent, and uncanny, versus capable, healthy, and ordinary, especially in respect to their ability to work (Poore 5).

Two categories of debilities were acknowledged: hereditary and war injuries stemming from

31

WWI. It is worthy to note that whilst planning the euthanasia programme for those with certain unwanted hereditary traits, Hitler initially honoured disabled veterans (Poore 19)39.

Following the depression and the increased propaganda surrounding the care of the disabled, and the questioning of their proper and productive place in society, the role of all people with disabilities began to be questioned. One questionnaire developed by orthopedist

Konrad Biensalski and his colleagues at the Oskar-Helene Institution in Berlin proved that many

Germans supported the segregating of patients to be placed in institutional asylums, away from the general public (Poore 49). In an era so wrought with an emphasis on positive aesthetics, the

German population would therefore not have to come in contact with the ostensibly repulsive disfigurements of the patients in institutions (Poore 52). This removal from the public eye also aided in and eased the later murdering of these patients, as they were already removed from the public consciousness being housed in institutions.

While there was general public support for racial hygiene, the method to be employed was often a contested subject. In The Origins of Nazi Genocide, Henry Friedlander notes,

Until the defeat of Germany in World War I, the Germans focused on positive eugenics. Of course, they shared the anxieties of their American colleagues about the degeneration of the lower classes and opposed social legislation enacted to aid the poor, arguing that this “social net” prevented the operation of natural selection. They also shared the concerns of most fellow Germans that the “yellow peril” or the “Slavic threat” could lead to the “Slavization of Germany”. However, they did not believe that they could win support for sterilization and therefore concentrated on positive measures, especially attempts to increase the birth rate of “superior” populations. (Friedlander 10)

While sterilization was initially not supported, the propaganda of the 1930s and the rise of the

National Socialist party brought about a change in public perception on the subject matter. On

39 Those who had been injured in the war then included as victims of Aktion T4 as they could not become productive working members of society due to their injuries suffered during WWI.

32

January 1, 1934 the Gesetz zur Verhütung erbkranken Nachwuchses [The Law for the Prevention of Genetically Diseased Offspring] came into effect40. This law, which was applied to both those living in and outside of institutions, affected an estimated 400,000 people in the following categories:

Number Affected Condition

200,000 congenital feeblemindedness (now cognitive or developmental disability)

80,000

60,000

20,000 folie circulaire (manic depressive insanity)

20,000 grave bodily malformation

16,000 hereditary deafness

10,000 hereditary alcoholism

4,000 hereditary blindness

600 Huntington’s chorea disease41

The original categorization of ‘feeblemindedness’ was later broadened to include the categories of ‘moral feeblemindedness’ and ‘antisocials’, which consisted of prostitutes, beggars, vagrants, work-shy, slovenly and unkempt peoples (Bock 79). The Sterilization Law did not focus on certain religious or racial groups, as it was documented that they were applied to all “hereditary degenerates … regardless of sex, race, religion” (ibid). Sheila Faith Weiss also notes, “there was no mention of sterilization on either racial or social grounds” (Weiss 38). Despite no distinct emphasis on targeting one sex, 60% of those marked for sterilization were women (Bock 79).

40 The law was passed on July 14, 1933, but came into effect on January 1, 1934. See Appendix A for the chronology of racial hygiene legislation in Germany.  Numbers are estimations 41 Lifton 25; Friedlander 26

33

There was little initial public opposition to the 1934 sterilization laws. Although the

Catholic Church did not support sterilization, they “did little more than press for the exemption of Catholic judges and doctors from enforcing the law” (Lifton 29). Some exclusions to the law were made for those who were deemed artistically gifted or talented (Lifton 26). A special

Hereditary Health Court was set up for those wishing to dispute the sterilization, of which there were very few cases that received a reversal of judgment (Friedlander 27). Friedlander and

Lifton also acknowledge that most doctors personally approved of the sterilization laws42. Many were influenced by the Nazi party, and were encouraged to neglect the care of the patients

(Lifton 48), which was a continuation of the lack of care experienced by many patients during the First World War.

Friedlander also argues that doctors, like other professionals during the Nazi period, had a “desire for career advancement, higher incomes, and recognition from their peers” (qtd. in

Nicosia and Huener 7). The merging of the fields of racial hygiene and the Nazi party was seen as a “sharing of the goal of overcoming national biological degeneration” (Muckermann qtd. in

Weiss 39). Doctors and midwives were also given a financial incentive to register patients for the Sterilization Law43. Medical professionals were able to work around the Hippocratic Oath by believing they were actually helping the patients. They believed there was a “return to the ethics and high moral status of an earlier generation … which stood on [the] solid philosophical

42 In the introduction to Medicine and Medical Ethics in , Nicosia and Huener note that in 1939, 45% of doctors belonged to the Nazi party, while only 25% of lawyers and 24% of teachers were member. That is a large number in comparison to the 9% of the entire population who were members. (Nicosia and Huener 8) 43 Midwives were paid 2 RM for each registration for patients requiring notification for the following: “venereal diseases, births and deaths, childbed fever, certain contagious diseases, and genetic illnesses falling under the Sterilization Law” (Lifton 187).

34 ground” of the Hippocratic oath” (Lifton 32). Professional opportunism and an overcrowding of jobs in the medical profession added to the support of the National Socialists (Proctor 288)44.

It is important to note that the laws also received very little resistance from the German population. Many saw as their “sacred mission” (Lifton 24) to help regenerate the country. As more people were swept up by the ideologies of the Nazi party, many hailed the Sterilization Law “as a signal example of the new government’s determination to put a halt to German racial degeneration” (Proctor 117). But the strongest tactics used by the Nazis to gain public support for the cooperation in the Sterilization Law was the strong economic emphasis placed on the costs of caring for the mentally and physically disabled people (see Figure 145). The purported monetary advantages of sterilization swayed public opinion greatly, Figure 1 – Nazi Propaganda poster especially during the . There was a drastic rise in long-term patients in institutions from 1924 to 1929, and propaganda posters emphasized, and in most part exaggerated, the costs of caring that the German people must carry. One pamphlet read:

It must be made clear to anyone suffering from an incurable disease that the useless dissipation of costly medications drawn from the public store cannot be justified. Parents who have seen the difficult life of a crippled or feeble-minded child must be convinced that, though they may have a moral obligation to care for the unfortunate creature the broader public should not be obligated … to assume the enormous costs that long-term institutionalization might entail. (qtd. in Proctor 183)

44One cannot overlook the anti-Semitism associated with this statement. Leading to the rise of National Socialism, there was an increase of Jewish people in the medical profession. Many new doctors looked to the career advancements by joining the Nazis, and the “elimination of as a way to advance their careers” (Proctor 288). 45 Unless otherwise indicated, all images were taken by the author. Figure 1- Archiv Gedenkstätte Grafeneck.

35

Gisela Bock succinctly summarizes the culmination of costs and Volkish regeneration attitudes in her chapter “Nazi Sterilization and Reproductive Policies”. She offers the following reason why sterilization was supported by both the medical profession, and the general public:

The reason why sterilization became so popular – and why the Nazi law of 1933 came about so easily and met with so little public criticism – was because it promised many things to many people. No children from “inferior” persons seemed to mean gains to communal and other public funds (with less demand for logically funded public assistance), reduced costs for institutional care, fewer illegitimate children, no more schools for backward children, and more financial assistance for the deserving unemployed and for the health care of the desirable part of the population. Nevertheless, doctors and psychiatrists were at the center of the campaign; for them, the major gain was not just a utilitarian but an idealistic one – the “regeneration” of the German people (Volk). (Bock 65) While there were some isolated religious groups that did not approve of the sterilization, the act was generally supported, even by the parents of those classified for sterilization. With a high rate of public support, the National Socialists quickly transitioned from mere sterilization to a path leading towards the radical euthanasia of mentally and physically disabled citizens. The fact that the Sterilization Law was supported by the German people has lead to difficulties in the memorialization of the Aktion T4 victims, as we shall see in subsequent chapters. This stems from the acknowledement of their involvement, which subsequently raises feelings of guilt.

Negative Eugenics in Practice: The Child-Murders

The timing of the euthanasia programme was instrumental for its success. The concept of the mercy killing of the sick had already been introduced in Germany by Binding and Hoche in

1920, and had been publicly debated internationally in Britain in the late 19th Century, and in

Hungary in 1912 (Proctor 177)46. Building on the public support of the forced sterilizations, the

46 The support for euthanasia was not unique to Germany. A 1937 Gallup Poll in the United States showed that “45 percent of the American population favored euthanasia for defective ” (Proctor 180).

36 concept of “life unworthy of life” was glorified by the Nazis in the mediums of popular literature, film, and instructional school textbooks (Proctor 182). Böhm states that,

[i]n einer riesigen Propagandaaktion, die über Presse, Museen, Film und Rundfunk in nahezu alle Lebensbereiche der Deutschen drang, aber auch in Schulunterricht und Ausbildung sollte rassenhygienisches Denken – nach Worten Goebbels – in „das Bewusstsein jedes einzelnen eingehämmert” werden. Dabei wurden immer wieder völlig übertriebene Kosten der Wohlfahrtspflege thematisiert und in Relation zu etwaigen sozialpolitischen Maßnahmen für „wertvolle” Menschen gestellt, wurden die Kranken und Behinderten entmenschlicht, als eine tierische Existenzform dargestellt, um so eine Zustimmung der Bevölkerung für Tötungen zu erreichen. (Böhm 54)47 A popular and widely read novel, Sendung und Gewissen [Mission and Conscience], written by

Helmut Unger in 1936, furthered the idea that mercy killing was necessary and humane for a woman suffering from multiple sclerosis and brought further attention to the subject in non- scholarly texts. Propaganda was also intended to reach all age groups, as is exemplified in children’s math textbooks featured problems relating to the costs of housing the sick in institutions48. A strong connection was also made between abstract art of the Weimar period and the mentally and physically unfit citizens. This style of art was considered to be ‘degenerate’ art by the Nazis, and its negative influence on society was compared to physically disabled people in

47 In a mammoth propaganda campaign, that penetrated print media, museums, film, and radio broadcasting in nearly all areas of life for the German people, but also school lessons and education, racial hygienic thinking should, in the words of Goebbels, be hammered into the consciousness of every single person. Thereby time and again completely exaggerated costs of social welfare were thematised, and placed in relation to possible social-political measures for “worthwhile” citizens, the sick and handicapped were dehumanized, depicted as an animalistic form of existence, in order to get the approval of the population to bring about the killings. [my translation] 48 One example is: Der jährliche Aufwand des Staates für einen Geisteskranken beträgt im Durchschnitt 766 RM; ein Tauber oder Blinder kostet 615 RM, ein Krüppel 600 RM. In geschlossenen Anstalten werden auf Staatskosten versorgt: 167000 Geisteskranke, 8300 Taube und Blinde, 20600 Krüppel. Wieviel Mill. RM kosten diese Gebrechlichen jährlich? Wieviel erbgesunde Familien können bei RM 60 durchschnittlicher Monatsmiete für diese Summe untergebracht werden? (Böhm 56). (The State’s yearly expense for an insane person amounts to an average of 766 RM, a deaf or blind person costs 615 RM, a cripple 600. 167,000 insane, 8,300 Deaf and Blind people, 20,600 cripples are provided in institutions at the public’s expense. How many million RM do these invalids cost a year? How many hereditarily healthy families could be housed for this sum with an average monthly rent of 60 RM?) [my translation]

37 propaganda film49, and Paul Schultze-Naumburg’s 1928 art exhibit Kunst und Rasse [Art and

Race] (Poore 54). Three influential and popular feature films that introduced propaganda notions of the mercy killing of the sick were shown in a large number of theatres. Das Erbe [The

Inheritance] (1935), Opfer der Vergangenheit [The Victim of the Past] (1937), and Ich klage an

[I Accuse] (1941), based on Unger’s aforementioned novel, were made “to persuade the German public to accept the idea of “euthanasia”” (Lifton 49).

While it is clear that that concept of euthanasia found itself thrust into the realm of popular culture, the practice of it was shroud in some mystery. The topic of killing those with disabilities was not a secret, as it was very prevalent in various mediums, but the actual killing of the people remained secret (Lifton 65). Aly furthers this by stating, “[t]he more euthanasia was practiced, the less it was talked about publicly” (Aly Medicine Against the Useless 32). Also aiding in the success of the euthanasia programme was the commencement of the Second World

War. This played an important role as “such a program could be put into effect more smoothly and rapidly in a time of war, and that in the general upheaval of war, the open resistance anticipated from the church would not play the part that it might in other circumstances” (Proctor

181ff). The increased secrecy at that time stifled public debate on the topic, and allowed for the euthanasia actions to gain momentum.

The first cases of euthanasia were the murdering of children under the age of three. The selection of children for death signifies a change in public perception of the topic of euthanasia as the programme garnered support. In one reported case, a father of a child born blind, retarded, and without an arm and a leg specifically asked that his child be euthanized. His request was

49 For more information on the Nazi connection between and the mentally and physically disabled see Peter Cohen’s film Architecture of Doom.

38 granted. Other parents agreed to their children being mercifully killed when provided with a questionnaire. The vast number of children designated for murder happened through questionnaires from their physicians. Doctors submitted the questionnaires to a central office in

Berlin, where they were sorted, without the examination of said child. Children were then taken to extermination facilities, where they were killed using injections of or Luminal, tablets, gassing, or general neglect and starvation. Similar to the later adult euthanasia programme, the bodies were cremated immediately, purportedly in order to prevent the spread of disease, and false death reports were sent to the families. In an attempt to exonerate themselves, some doctors stated that they were “aware that [they] were involved in something dirty” (Lifton

59), but the ‘gentle’ practices of death “was not murder, it is a putting to sleep” (Lifton 57).

Such statements could later be used to thwart memorialization practices as people involved believed themselves to be innocent and thus memorialization of the victims was not warranted.

There was limited refusal by some physicians to take part (Proctor 188)50. It has been noted that “in general, there was probably considerable less medical resistance to the killing of children than to the killing of adults” (Lifton 57). In 1940, the age was raised from three to include older children up to the age of seventeen (Proctor 188)51. These initial murders ended the lives of over 5,000 children, and represented the first step towards mass murder.

Aktion T4: The pinnacle of Nazi Euthanasia

Named after the bureaucratic head offices on Tiergartenstraße 4 in Berlin, Aktion T4 was the code name for the adult euthanasia programme. The official decree from Adolf Hitler, which was written on his personal letterhead and backdated to the start of the war on ,

50 A fine of 150 RM could be applied, or a term of imprisonment. 51 Jewish children were excluded from this early euthanasia programme “on the grounds that they did not deserve the “merciful act” (Wohltat) of euthanasia (Proctor 188).

39

1939, was never an official law per se (Lifton 64)52. Unlike other Nazi initiatives, this action was not an SS driven programme, but rather the doctors and nurses at six institutions spread through Germany and Upper Austria were given the task to murder selected patients53.

Similar to the children’s euthanasia programme, patients were marked for death based solely on a questionnaire, and not by means of a personal examination. Selections for Aktion T4 originally corresponded to the concept of gemeinschaftsfremd [alien to the community]54, but was expanded to include patients meeting the following criteria:

1. Patients suffering from specified diseases who are not employable or are employable only in simple mechanical work. The diseases were schizophrenia, epilepsy, senile diseases, therapy-resistant paralysis and other syphilitic sequelae, feeblemindedness from any causes, , Huntington’s chorea, and other neurological conditions of a terminal nature. 2. Patients who have been continually institutionalized for at least five years. 3. Patients who are in custody as criminally insane. 4. Patients who are not German citizens, or are not of German or kindred blood55.

Especially important during wartime, there was a strong emphasis on the patient’s ability to work, and if they would be of benefit to the country and society during WWII. It has been reported that up to 15,000 questionnaires were examined in Berlin per month (Burleigh 139), an

52 In Racial Hygiene: Medicine under the Nazis, Proctor notes: “Doctors were never ordered to murder psychiatric patients and handicapped children. They were empowered to do so, and fulfilled their task without protest, often on their own initiative. Hitler’s original memo of October 1939 was not an order (Befehl), but an empowerment (Vollmacht), granting physicians permission to act” (Proctor 193). This could later be used as a reason for physicians to exonerate themselves for judicial reasons. 53 For more information about the role of physicians and medical professionals in Aktion T4 see: Henry Friedlander The Origins of Nazi Genocide: From Euthanasia to the Final Solution, Robert Jay Lifton The Nazi Doctors: Medical Killing and the Psychology of Genocide, Robert N. Proctor Racial Hygiene: Medicine under the Nazis, Francis R. Nicosia and Jonathan Huener (eds.) Medicine and Medical Ethics in Nazi Germany, Götz Aly et al. Cleaning the Fatherland: Nazi Medicine and Racial Hygiene 54 The unused 1945 law on “the treatment of the Gemeinschaftsfremd” defined the term as: “An “alien to the community” is: 1. One whose personality and way of life renders him incapable of fulfilling the minimum demands of the national community through his own efforts, especially as a result of extraordinary defects in judgment or character.” (Aly “Medicine against the Useless” 52) 55 Lifton 65ff

40 astronomical sum which suggests that each form was not carefully examined, but passed through very quickly with little contemplation and proper assessment. Patients who were selected by the administrators in the offices in Berlin were then removed from their home asylum, and transferred to a holding centre, or to one of six gassing centres; Bernburg, Brandenburg,

Grafeneck, , Hartheim, and Pirna-Sonnenstein56. These were all functioning institutions, which had been selected as the sites for gassing because they were in remote areas with good rail or road connections (Burleigh 136). Patients were transferred in gray buses from hundreds of hospitals, and were exterminated within 24 hours of their arrival. The patients were given a cursory ‘examination’ by doctors, and “die Musterung diente hauptsächlich der

Festlegung einer glaubhafter Todesursache, die später auf der Sterbeurkunde erscheienen sollte”

(Böhm 65)57. These were not concentration camps where people were housed for any lengthy period of time, but rather extermination centres with the sole purpose of killing an unwanted selection of society.

Because of the large number of patients who were arriving at the centres, the technique of killing had to differ from the children’s programme, and a new method of extermination had to be established. , one of the leaders chosen by Adolf Hitler for the euthanasia programme, recommended the use of gas, and it was decided that gassing would be used at the six killing centres to ‘disinfect’ the victims. To instill a sense of order and routine for the victims, a shower room was constructed with tiled floors, benches around the perimeter, and showerheads protruding from the ceiling. Patients were required to undress in an antechamber, and stood naked in the shower room. A door with a peephole allowed the doctors

56 The memorialization at Grafeneck, Hartheim, and Pirna-Sonnenstein is discussed in Chapter 2. 57 “The physical examination primarily served the establishment of a believable that should later appear on the .” [my translation]

41 to observe the patients from the outside. In initial tests, carbon monoxide was provided from trucks running outside the building. As the process grew in size, BASF, a subsidiary of I.G.

Farben58, provided the gas (Burleigh 136). After death, were performed on the victims as a means of training for young doctors, and to collect organs for later research59 (Friedlander

165). Patients’ effects were collected, including their gold teeth, and their bodies were incinerated. Henry Friedlander points to the fact that these sites functioned like factories of death. With a fascination with technology, here they processed, killed, experimented, and disposed of the victims within the space of 24 hours (Friedlander 164).

Akin to the children’s programme, family members were notified of the victim’s death, and given a forged cause of death, and often a false location of death. Under the guise that there was a high ‘risk of disease spread’, families were told the bodies were cremated immediately.

Rumours began to circulate because of errors in the reporting of deaths, and the public began to question what was happening at these sites. It is important to remember that it was not a foreign community being exterminated, but German citizens were being murdered in their own backyards. Although many Germans were unaware of the killing taking place, those living close to the centres could not overlook certain aspects. One report from Pirna-Sonnenstein reads,

Obwohl die Mitarbeiter zum Schweigen verpflichtet waren und das Gelände bewacht wurde, war die Tötungsanstalt keinesfalls hermetisch von Außenwelt abgeschlossen. Viele Einwohner erfuhren bereits damals von den Krankenmorden auf dem Sonnenstein. Die grauen Busse, mit denen man die Opfer auf den Sonnenstein transportierte, der schwarze Rauch und der Geruch

58 I.G. Farben was closely connected to the Nazi Party during World War II. Aside from providing carbon monoxide gas to the euthanasia centres, the company held the patient for , which was used to gas inmates in the extermination camps. 59 As mentioned in the introduction, the status of medical samples from the victims of Aktion T4 has been an active scholarly subject in recent years. Many were used as active samples until the 1990s in Germany and Austria. For more information see Seidelman’s chapter “Pathology of Memory: German Medical Science and the Crimes of the Third Reich” and Joe Berlinger’s documentary, Gray Matter.

42

von verbrannten Menschen wurden registriert. Proteste gab es jedoch keine. Die Tötungsmachinerie konnte ungestört arbeiten. (Böhm 98)60

Unrest began to form, and it cumulated with a sermon given by Bishop Clemens August von

Galen on August 3, 1941 denouncing euthanasia. The British also dropped pamphlets in Germany reporting the euthanasia crimes (Burleigh 150). A verbal order was issued by Hitler on August 29, 1941 to end “or at least stall operation T4” (Lifton 95). Reasons for the ceasing of the programme lie in the fact that there was too much public awareness and outcry over the action, and the bureaucratic answer that Aktion T4 had “already achieved its statistical objectives” (Burleigh 150). By the end of 1941, the action had taken the lives of over an estimated 70,000 mentally and physically disabled victims.

Institution Dates of Operation # of Victims61

Grafeneck Jan. – Dec. 1940 9,839

Brandenburg Feb. – Sept. 1940 9,772

Bernburg Jan. – Sept. 1941 8,601

Hadamar Jan. – Aug. 1941 10,072

Hartheim May 1940 – 1941 18,269

Sonnenstein June 1940 – Aug. 1941 13,720

60 Although the personnel were sworn to secrecy, and the grounds were closely-guarded, the killing centres were by no means hermetically sealed from the outside world. Many citizens had already at that time learned of the murdering of the sick at Sonnenstein. The gray buses, which transported the victims to Sonnenstein, the black smoke, and the smell of incinerated people, were registered. There were, however, no protests. The machinery of death could operate undisturbed. [my translation] 61 Proctor 191; Friedlander 109

43

Jewish victims were not persecuted outright because of their religion, but they were also not exempt from Aktion T4. In 1940, an estimated 4,000 Jewish people were murdered as part of this programme.

Although the Aktion T4 operative had officially been terminated, the killing continued in the form of the “ 14f13” [Special Treatment 14f13] code in the concentration camps62. Now Jewish people were included explicitly, as well as homosexuals, Roma and Sinti, and communists, among other racial minority groups. The child-murder programme and murdering of Jewish patients also continued unofficially in hospitals.

Transfer of Technology and Intelligence

The significance of Aktion T4, and its impact on the mass murders that followed the official end of Aktion T4 in 1941, cannot be overlooked. The euthanasia programme has been called a stage rehearsal63, a model64, a prelude65, and a Vorbereitung [preparation]66 to the later

Holocaust. The Nazi euthanasia programme and the annihilation of the Jews as part of the Final

Solution are intrinsically linked “in both theory and practice” (Proctor 195). As both the handicapped and Jews were seen as a ‘diseased race’, both problems needed to be “solved by medical means” (ibid). The biological connotation of cleansing Germany was applied to both groups, in an attempt to rid society of unwanted races.

62 Concentration camp inmates were selected “based on a collaboration between the SS camp physicians and T-4 physicians” (Friedlander, 2004, 170) for inmates who were deemed unfit for work. 63 “By , 1941, when the first phase of this “adult operation” was brought to an end, over 70,000 patients from more than a hundred German hospitals had been killed, in an operation that provided the stage rehearsal for the subsequent destruction of Jews, homosexuals, communists, Gypsies, Slavs, and prisoners of war.” (Proctor 177) 64 “The murder of the disabled preceded the murder of Jews and Gypsies, and it is reasonable to conclude that T-4’s killing operation served as a model for the “Final Solution””. (Friedlander, 2004, 178) 65 Lifton, Introduction to Part I, Aly “Medicine against the Useless” 92 66 In Pirna-Sonnenstein literature it is stated, “[d]ie Tötungsanstalt Sonnenstein diente auch der personellen, organisatorischen und technischen Vorbereitung des Holocaust” [[t]he killing centre Sonnenstein served also the personnel, organizational, and technical preparation of the Holocaust] (Böhm 7) [my translation]

44

Aktion T4 and the murdering of millions of people as part of the Final Solution are strongly connected by both a transfer of technology and of intelligence. Whereas the killing of the children under three was conducted using injections, malpractice through neglect and starvation, the new method of gassing was created for two reasons: to distance the physician and medical professionals physically and emotionally from the killing task at hand, and to accelerate the murder process so that more victims could be ‘disinfected’. It was found that gassing with carbon monoxide was an effective method, and this technology was later used in concentration and extermination camps. The process of was also applied to these later camps. In fact, the very same cremation ovens from the sites were dismantled and moved to the East after

1941.

There was also a transfer of intelligence. Many of the main commanders and doctors involved with Aktion T4 later went on to become main Kommandanten at the extermination camps. At least 39 former Pirna-Sonnenstein employees were involved with the later killings of the “Aktion Reinhard” extermination programme (Böhm 111). Specific examples of other cases of transfer of intelligence were , who helped develop the gas chambers first in the

Aktion T4 killing centres, then later in the extermination camps in the East, Dr. , who was a commander at Brandenburg and Bernburg, then later at Treblinka, and Horst

Schumann, who ran Grafeneck and Sonnenstein, and was later employed at Auschwitz. Other significant medical leaders, such as Karl Brandt, Werner Heyde, Hermann Pfannmüller, Max de

Crinis, and , were influential in bringing the technology and expertise gained at the euthanasia centres to the extermination camps67.

67 For more information on camp commanders, please see Appendix B.

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There was a strong connection between the medicalized murdering of mentally and physically disabled people and the murdering of millions in other marginalized groups, including the Jews and Gypsies, in the Final Solution. This is reinforced by Proctor, who states that

It is possible of course, in hindsight, to separate analytically the sterilization program (eugenics), the destruction of the mentally ill (euthanasia), and the destruction of Germany’s racial minorities (the final solution). The fact is, however, that each of these programs was seen as a step in a common program of racial purification. Medical journals used the expression “life not worth living” to refer to those sterilized under the 1933 Sterilization Law, to those killed in psychiatric hospitals, and to those killed in concentration camps. […] If we want to understand the logic of the Nazi racial program, then it is not possible to draw a sharp line between what happened before and after 1933. (Procter 221ff)

It is thus imperative that this important stage in World War II history be remembered and included in the broader memorialization of the Holocaust as a significant training and staging for the murderous events which followed. And yet the commemoration of this important action is often neglected due to difficulties in memorialization practices, including the avoidance of disability, the lack of justice in the courts, and identifying Germans as victims of WWII.

C: The Judicial Aftermath of Aktion T4 and Euthanasia Perpetrators

There were varying judgments passed on to those who were involved in the sterilization and killing of those with mental and physical disabilities. While some physicians and caretakers quietly returned to practice in the field of medicine, or escaped persecution by fleeing the country or assuming false names, some of the doctors involved received harsh sentences68. The four physicians-in-charge of the six killing centres ‘escaped’ punishment through suicide or death whilst serving at the eastern front. The assistant doctors received less than severe

68 It should be noted, however, that many of the severe sentences, such as life in prison, were commuted to lesser time periods, or the defendants were acquitted.

46 sentences, many of which were commuted to even fewer years in prison. Many medical professionals and scientists were tried in courts both in East and to answer to their involvement in the Nazi euthanasia programme.

The most famous of the trials conducted after WWII is the medical trial held in

Nuremberg, Germany from December 1946 to August 1947. The trial, the first of 12, followed the larger international Nuremberg trial. These were smaller trials, but only in size but not in importance as several influential defendants, such as Dr. Karl Brandt escaped persecution in the larger trial. The trials were conducted by US officials alone, acting under an agreement by the

Allies, and also officially known as Allied Control Council Law No. 1 (Ehrenfreund 93)69. As such it was the first time in history that “the defeated leaders of one nation were brought to trial in a legally constituted court by the government of the victorious nation” (Burman i). The nine- month long trial, involving over 63 lawyers, largely sought justice for the crimes of doctors and scientists who were involved on “ghoulish” experimentation and the euthanasia of inmates in

Nazi concentration camps in the name of ‘medical research’ (Ehrenfreund 94, Burman I, Marrus

114). While most of the four charges related to actions committed at the concentration camps, they also included the larger charge of euthanasia, which encompassed crimes committed in

Aktion T470. On August 20, 1947, 16 of the 23 defendants were found guilty, and received sentences ranging from execution to multiple years in prison71. Four of the defendants were

69 There were five categories of defendants in these twelve trials: 1) professional men such as doctors and judges, 2) industrialists and financiers, 3) SS officers and police, 4) military leaders, and 5) government ministers and cabinet members (Ehrenfreund 93). 70 The four counts charged were as follows: 1.Conspiracy to Wage Aggressive War, 2. Waging Aggressive War, Crimes Against Peace, 3. War Crimes (violations of the rules and customs of war, such as mistreatment of prisoners of war and abuse of enemy civilians), and 4. (includes the torture and slaughter of millions on racial grounds, now known as the Holocaust) The latter also included crimes conducted on German nationals. (Ehrenfreund 16-17) The defendants were also indicted on charges of membership in a criminal organization, the SS. (Beals, qtd. in Burman 18) 71 For a complete list of the defendants and the resulting judgements please see Appendix B.

47 charges with euthanasia crimes, section 9 of the count of crimes against humanity72. Amongst several other charges73, Karl Brandt, , and were all found guilty of euthanasia crimes and were hanged. was also tried, but was acquitted at the

Doctors’ Trial, but was later found guilty by French authorities and was sentenced to 20 years in prison.

Interest in the forthcoming trial in Nuremberg was relatively low both in ruined

Nuremberg and in Germany in general (Ehrenfreund 19). The German public was simply not interested in the trial. As mentioned in the introduction, the court proceedings were perplexingly erased from the public sphere, and did not invite public awareness or discussion. Mitscherlich and Mielke’s 1949 report about the Nuremberg Doctors’ trial disappeared from bookshelves and was not discussed in medical journals. The first edition of Walter B. Beals’, the presiding judge, notebook, The First Trial, was only published in 1976 with a print run of

100 copies (Burman iv)74. Even if the subject was present in public consciousness, there was an unspoken silence on the subject. There was strong respect for superiors, such as doctors or judges, and “not much sympathy for removing tainted officials” (Rosenbaum 70). This silence ensured that the topic was not prevalent in the public consciousness. Memorialization of the victims was thereby avoided in favour of having life returning to normal, by overlooking the euthanasia programme.

72 In the court documents, the euthanasia program included any involvement from September 1939 until April 1945 (Beals 197). 73Many of the doctors and scientists were charged with crimes of sterilization. However this was not so much targeted at the sterilization that ran rampant prior to the war, but rather sterilization “that took place at Auschwitz and Ravensbrück Concentration Camps, and “other places” from March 1941 to January 1945” (Beals 195) 74 For the 1985 edition of Beals’ notebook, editor W. Paul Burman makes special mention of the lack of research into the topic. He states that as of the date of publication “all records and medical files compiled during the course of the doctors’ trial were in in Bonn gathering dust. The archivist in charge of this collection does not recall a single inquiry made by any researcher – German or foreign – since the German Federal Republic regained control over the documents (Burman v).

48

While it is clear that in some respects the trial made a lasting impact on the medical community75, Michael Marrus is critical of the overall success of the proceedings. He argues that the trial “missed an important opportunity to define the principal crimes of German physicians during the Third Reich, to identify the major perpetrators, to put them in a wider intellectual and institutional context, and to sketch an explanation of their crimes” (Marrus 103).

It was more so an evasion of medical responsibility, than an opportunity to seek justice for the crimes committed. This can be reflected in the fact that the most famous “Angel of Death” at

Auschwitz, Joseph Mengele evaded capture, and that the trial was poorly prepared, with insufficient evidence for the defendants (Marrus 107).

Another predicament for the trial was that the true emphasis of the trial was on the crimes committed in the experiments at the concentration camps, and all but overlooked the medical progression of forced sterilization and early child euthanasia killings which targeted German citizens. The focus of the Doctors’ Trial was not on the German victims, but rather the charges focused on the non-German victims, and Marrus argues that the trials were not being held to punish Germans for domestic atrocities (Marrus 111). Therefore an air of distance was placed on the crimes, and the defendants did not have to answer for their involvement of the victims from Germany, and could shirk their involvement. The charges against sterilization in the trial did not relate back to the eugenic based action of the early 1930s, but solely on what took place in the concentration camp. By including only the concentration camp events, the trial overlooked the 1% of the German population that had been affected by forced sterilizations

75The Nuremberg Code was designed to be a new code of ethics for doctors, which stressed the following: 1) Before doctors may perform any experiment on a human being, the voluntary informed consent of the subject is absolutely essential, 2) the experiment must be based on previous animal testing, 3) the experiment must avoid all unnecessary physical and mental suffering, and 4) the experiment must be conducted by scientifically qualified persons (Ehrenfreund 149). The Code underwent drastic revisions in the 1970s, with the addition of a requirement for informed consent for all medical treatments in which the doctor is going to perform an invasive procedure (Ehrenfreund 151).

49

(Marrus 112). While it has been previously discussed that the topic of “euthanasia” was included in the trial, it was not explicit that it was in reference to the murders of the Aktion T4 programme. The thrust was clearly not on German victims but the term ‘euthanasia’ became a

“polite word for the systematic slaughter of Jews and many other categories of persons useless or unfriendly to the Nazi regime” (Taylor qtd. in Marrus 113).

Despite the glaring oversight of not including Aktion T4 directly in the trials, Rosenbaum is of the belief that “any judicial process is better than none in establishing even a skeletal public record of minimal legal accountability and of serving the interest of justice” (Rosenbaum 70). In following this statement, four defendants did face the stand for their involvement in the Aktion

T4 murders. However, most of the hundreds of other physicians, nurses, caretakers, and others involved simply slipped back into society and did not face persecution for their involvement in the murders. By returning to work so quickly unscathed by the judicial processes, this allowed for a void in memorialization of the Aktion T4 victims. There were other trials that took place in

Germany in an attempt to bring justice against those who participated in the Aktion T4 murders.

As can be seen in the results listed in Appendix B, many of those who were brought to trial were in higher official ranks, and not the doctors and nurses committing the murders.

D: “The story of racial science no more ends in 1945 than it begins in 1933”76

There are several factors which caused racial hygiene and Aktion T4 to succeed in

Germany. Both doctors and the public supported the medicalized killing of this group of people as an act to “biologize or medicalize” social problems (Proctor 287). The field of eugenics was thriving throughout the Western World, and some would argue that Germany was ensuring that it

76 Proctor 298

50 was keeping pace with international trends. “German racial hygienists modeled their science on movements in other countries, imploring their fellow Germans to follow these examples, lest

Germany be surpassed in racial purity” (Proctor 286). Allied officials were unable to charge physicians for enacting the Sterilization Law, as a similar law had been in place in the United

States (Proctor 117). German scientists could feign innocence that they were initially not doing anything that other countries were not doing77.

Another reason why racial hygiene flourished was because of the collapse of the German economy between 1929 and 1932. The Nazis succeeded in gaining public support by emphasizing, and in most part exaggerating, the costs of caring for the ill in institutions. After losing a large section of society in the First World War, many advocated for the sterilization or mercy killing of those considered to be unworthy of life or to contribute to the success of society without depleting its resources. Propaganda inundated the general public, and caused many to side with the National Socialist’s dogmas on the mentally and physically disabled thus lessening of the racial purity and economic drain.

There was also a degree of anti-Semitism that permeated discussions. Various historical sources outline that the sterilization and mercy killings originally did not target patients based on religion, but rather all German and Austrian citizens, with conditions that met the statute legislation, were targeted. But the idea to return to the pure Volk contains anti-Semitic nuances.

There was a “biological connotation, embracing Germanic peoples within and beyond

Germany’s political borders and effectively excluding Jews and other ethnic minorities living within those borders as racially alien “foreigners”” (Bachrach 2). With a competitive medical

77Although compulsory sterilization continued in other countries, the euthanasia killings of an unwanted section of society did not. In this sense one can compare the sterilization laws, but not the transition into mass euthanasia.

51 job market, it was also reported that Jews became the “scapegoat for all that was wrong in medicine - they were accused of importing abstract science into medicine, of transforming medicine from an art into a business” (Proctor 288).

While Nazi crimes were being tried in the Nürnberg Trials, many of those associated with

Aktion T4 were not prosecuted. Part of this is due to the staggering fact that until 1997, the

“definition of murder did not apply in the case of mentally handicapped persons, as such persons were not considered capable of reasoning” (Seidelman 102). Thus many involved could excuse their actions by arguing that they were not committing the legal definition of murder. Many of those involved continued practicing medicine after the war (Böhm 121), and the topic of German doctors murdering mentally and physically disabled fellow citizens was suppressed from the collective memory78.

The topic of Aktion T4 and the role of eugenics in the Second World War has been a topic that has been hidden from the German public consciousness. Although Nicosia and Huener identify an influx of major historical studies in the 1980s and 1990s surrounding the topic of

Nazi euthanasia, as illustrated by scholars such as Henry Friedlander, Michael Burleigh, and

Robert N. Proctor, William E. Siedelman identifies a type of ‘Alzheimer’s’ associated with the subject. Influential German scientific societies such as Kaiser Wilhelm and Max Planck continue to function without recognition of their linked past to Aktion T4. Medical slides taken from the victims were used for research in medical journals until the 1990s. Carol Poore has written extensively about the treatment and history of those with disabilities in Germany.

Despite recent changes in laws, many mentally and physically disabled people are discriminated against, and remain marginalized in institutions79. While the topic of the Holocaust is well

78 “aus dem kollektiven Gedächtnis verdrängt” (Böhm 123) 79 For more information see Carol Poore Disability in Twentieth-Century German Culture.

52 discussed in scholarly and popular mediums, the racial hygiene actions leading up to it are not prevalent in popular mediums, such as film and literature. The fact that the eugenics and sterilization were so readily supported by the general public and medical professions has led to an amnesia, or forgetting of the past and a reluctance to face history. The sensitivity of the topic and its National Socialist connection is apparent in current debates surrounding genetics and biological engineering, both in Germany and abroad80.

While surely no one could have foreseen the damaging uses of eugenics which were to come during the Third Reich, it is important to examine the history and German popular support of racial hygiene and more specifically Aktion T4 in Germany, and why this event remains absent from Holocaust discourse.

80 It should be noted that Michael Burleigh warns that the use of the past tense when discussing euthanasia is “depressingly inappropriate”, as the subject in still active in the ‘hard’ and ‘soft’ eugenic practices in the People’s Republic of China (Burleigh 114). Some acts of negative eugenics continued well beyond the end of WWII. The eugenic procedure of forced sterilization was also practiced in Scandinavian countries, western Canada, and in Virginia, North Carolina, and Georgia, USA, until the late 1970s. (Kevles 58)

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Chapter 2: Topographies of Trauma: Memorialization, Museology and Pedagogy at the

Former Sites of Aktion T4 Terror

“The enterprise in which the Germans truly are Weltmeister is the cultural reproduction of their country’s version of terror. No nation has been more brilliant, more persistent, and more innovative in the investigation, communication, and representation - the re-presentation, and re- re-presentation – of its own past evils” Timothy Garton Ash

“Without memory and the representation of memory in the tangible object (which in turn stimulates memory), the currency of living exchange, the spoken word and the thought, would disappear without trace”. Hannah Arendt – 2007 Sachsenhausen exhibit

In recent decades there has been an influx of tourism and historical inquiry at former sites of terror. There has also been an increase of museums and monuments that have been created at said sites. A growth in the number of general museums and educational centres located away from the sites of trauma has also occurred. The impetus for visiting former sites of terror varies drastically for every visitor. Many have become places to mourn the loss of the victims, atone for the past, or serve as learning centres that present historical information. The act of visiting traumatic sites is growing within the field of anthropology, and the study of “”, a term coined in the late 1990s by scholars John Lennon and Malcolm Foley, examines the phenomenon of visiting locations related to terror, death, genocide, and atrocity. Although sites of terror have existed as ‘tourist’ destinations for centuries, and are located throughout the globe, visiting sites which memorializing the Holocaust has been considered to be the epitome of dark tourism. It is important to examine the representation of Aktion T4 victims and the

54 memorialization history practices at these sites of terror, as a means to determine historical and social limitations on commemoration of these victims. Compared to other mediums included in this dissertation, these memorial sites function as physical beacons of memory that reflect significant changes in politics and public perception on disability and memory.

Many sites of destruction now include a museum or documentation centre81. Theorists

Jennifer Bonnell and Roger Simon recognize “a new willingness to take on what has been described as ‘difficult subject matter’ – narratives related to violence, loss, death, and conflict” within the museum space (Bonnell and Simon 2006,1). The exhibits at the sites of terror play an important role in presenting the history, but also function as a way to memorialize the traumatic events. The International Council of Museums recognizes that museums are to be spaces to

“communicate and exhibit the tangible and intangible heritage of humanity” (ICOM definition).

Museums are generally regarded as places of truth, with accurate information presented, which aids in their function of places for pedagogy. As such, the museums at sites of terror have the capability to teach about the events of the past, but also disseminate information to change perceptions about the future. The importance of the museum as place of learning in Germany has had a long standing tradition. In connection to the original popular National Socialist exhibits about eugenics and racial science, Sandra Esslinger identifies the Nazi museum as “a site where knowledge and power came together and were created anew and then disseminated. It was a space where criticism was prohibited, while information was offered and absorbed”

(Esslinger 322). Conversely, however, it is important to question not only what truth has been presented, but also what has been omitted or glossed over. It is through this continued traditional

81 By these terms I wish to include all exhibition spaces which present historical information. Pirna-Sonnenstein and Schloss Hartheim refer to themselves as museums, Grafeneck is known as a documentation centre, not a museum. Further discussion on this distinction between museum and documentation centre follows later in this chapter.

55 role of the importance of museums in Germany that the site museums at the former Aktion T4 sites are to be viewed. As museums are sites of nation and identity building, they are very often deeply political.

Many memorial sites devoted to the memory of the Holocaust have become popular tourist destinations, as evidenced by the sheer number of visitors, ease of public transportation routes to the sites, signage, and degree of awareness in popular culture. Although there can be a negative aspect of commodification or populous tourism, which can be seen to “dilute the severity of the history” (Wisler 20)82, generally Holocaust museums are not connectioned to the notion of the ‘spectacle’, in that visiting them as seen as a form of entertainment83. Bonnell and

Simon also identify the potential problem of exhibitions with difficult subject matter that may risk sensationalizing violent history, loss and suffering (Bonnell and Simon 2006, 2), or turn graphic images of trauma into fodder for spectacle84.

Holocaust related museums have become beacons to preserve memory, and are prevalent in both Germany, and abroad. In reference to Holocaust memorial sites and the study of dark tourism, Caroline Wisler argues that there can be a positive approach to dark tourism, in that they represent locations to practice the Geneva Conventions’ assertion for “”, and that these sites can become effective tools to bear witness to the past (Wisler 6). If “bearing witness requires individuals to act on behalf of victims and generate change in the present and for the future” (ibid), then one could argue that such sites have the potential to satisfy the requirement

82 In this statement she points towards mass tourism in that people are pushed through the exhibit without fully experiencing it. There is also the potential to decrease the importance of history with shops or large restaurants on site. This also affects the historical integrity of the site, as well as raises issues for the conservation of the buildings and land. 83 For examples of this, see House of Terror in Budapest, Hungary, or the ‘Gruselkabinett’ [Chamber of Horror] at the historic bunker an Anhalter Bahnhof in Berlin. 84 Bonnell and Simon are critical of the element of voyeurism in exhibits with dark subject matter, as are Mario DiPaolantonio and Mark Clamen.

56 for bearing witness through education and the presentation of history, and evoke a sense of an ability to change the present. As such, the pedagogical aspect of the Holocaust memorial sites and museums should not be discounted. Discussed in this chapter are three former sites of destruction which are comprised of both a pedagogical space, in the form of museum or documentation centre, and a section devoted for memorial practices85.

But there is a noticeable difference between the visiting of former sites of Holocaust terror, such as former concentration or extermination camps, and the sites of former Aktion T4 euthanasia. While the former have become prevalent locations for an increasing number of visitors, the latter sites remain places that one doesn’t “like to go”86. While undoubtedly Aktion

T4 historically played a prominent role in leading to the later Holocaust, the memorial sites for the Aktion T4 events are not as developed or as visited to the same degree as other Holocaust memorial sites. Due to factors such as the current use of the space, these sites are radically different, and the sites have experienced a unique memorialization process.

This chapter will examine three of the former Aktion T4 euthanasia killing centres to analyze the representation of Aktion T4 memory, amidst larger political and social changes on the subject of how one remembers the events of World War II. If, as Timothy Garton Ash noted in the quote at the beginning of this chapter, Germany is to be seen as a positive benchmark for memorialization practices surrounding the Holocaust, then it is important to examine memory work in the politically different environments of the former Nazi Successor States; the former

East and West Germany, and Austria. Included is an examination of Grafeneck (in the former

West Germany), Pirna-Sonnenstein (in the former East Germany), and Schloss Hartheim (in

85 A further discussion on the function of memorials can be found in Chapter 3. 86 This is a play on Gerhard Schröder’s quote about the Holocaust Memorial in Berlin being a place Germans “like to go to remember and take issue”.

57

Upper Austria). If, as Todorov writes, “history is rewritten each time a management team changes” (Todorov 7), it is important to analyze sites in three very different political environments in order to ascertain how changes in political frameworks and ideologies affect memorialization practices. In order to fairly evaluate the three sites, and compare them with memorialization at other former sites of Nazi terror, the following aspects were examined: historical memorialization practices, the role of the museum/documentation centre87, memorials associated with each sites, the educational potential of the sites, their capabilities to reach a larger audience, and contribute to current debates on disability. Differences in the discourse and representation of Aktion T4 in the site museums and memorials reflect significant differences in society and government bodies which include a myriad of reasons such as the delicate balance of presenting Germans as victims and perpetrators, the historical acceptance or reluctance to come to terms with their involvement in Nazi history, the inclusion of representing the subject of disability, and the dialogue on problems affecting memorializaton at each site.

There is a strong visual emphasis at many Holocaust museums. When one visits museums at places such as Auschwitz, Dachau, and the United States Holocaust Memorial

Museum in Washington88, one is struck by the sheer number of graphic images of death and suffering. This proliferation of now iconic images of the Holocaust, however, is lacking at

Grafeneck, Pirna-Sonnenstein, and Schloss Hartheim. While images do inform reality to a greater degree that historical details (Lennon and Foley 80), they are not presented to such a strong degree at the abovementioned sites. This raises questions as to whether or not the sites

87 Elements examined in this aspect include to which audience the site catered themselves, language use, location, use of images or artifacts, and lighting. 88 While this list reflects three vastly different museum spaces, from being located at the site of destruction, and physically removed, as well as being located in three different countries, they represent important Holocaust related museums. They are included as important Holocaust museums, in comparison to the museum spaces located at the former Aktion T4 gassing centres.

58 purposely wished to avoid the spectacle and sense of voyeurism associated with displaying graphic images, or did the images simply not exist?89 In connection to disability studies research, confronting images of people with disabilities raises fear of one’s own mortality, and accepting failure in one’s self. Omitting such photos could be seen as a way to provide a more

‘enjoyable’ experience for the visitor. It could be argued, however, that a lack of realistic visual images from the Aktion T4 period might separate the event from the consciousness of the modern day viewer (Wisler 17). A unique paradox presents itself at these three chosen memorial sites as the establishment of working institutions housing or employing the former victim group in close proximity to the memorial ensures a strong connection to the present. The visitor is thereby not confronted with graphic images of torturous experiments on people with mental or physical difficulties, but rather can see how this group is active in everyday life90.

Another absence at each of the museums or documentation centres is the element of physical artefacts91. While an artefact creates a strong connection between the historical event and the viewer, there is also a danger of the fetishization of an object, and a perceived “stasis of meaning” associated with said object (Simon 201). The foremost technique of presenting the history at each of the sites is through historical text panels, with limited examples of multi-modal elements of video or audio at Schloss Hartheim and Pirna-Sonnenstein. Different lighting techniques are used at each site to bright the text-rich exhibitions “to life” in lieu of artefacts. As discussed further in this chapter, an artefact allows the viewer to make a correlation between the

89 During discussions at the sites, the latter was told to me to be the case. Photographic evidence directly following the liberation is presented at Schloss Hartheim, and photos prior to excavation work at Pirna-Sonnenstein are also displayed. 90 It is my contention that seeing people with disabilities in daily life is more pedagogically advantageous than graphic images. In all three instances people with disabilities were not presented as a voyeuristic group of “others”, but as part of daily ongoing life at the site. 91 As will be discussed, the museum at Schloss Hartheim displays several objects found during an excavation on site.

59 object and the past. Oren Baruch Stier recognizes iconic artefacts, such as the cattle cars used for transport, or shorn hair displayed at Auschwitz, as a means to inscribe memory. The visitor often leaves the exhibit with a tangible image or icon to associate with the incomprehensible events. With the exception of a historical book at Pirna-Sonnenstein, Hartheim is the only site to display artefacts, albeit a minimal amount92.

The three sites examined in this chapter are examples of “primary sites of dark tourism”, in that they are at the actual location of terror. While two of the museums and primary memorial sites are located in the actual buildings where the murders took place93, all three sites have maintained historical accuracy in not recreating any of the instruments or rooms of atrocity or artefacts, and have upheld integrity in not using graphic images to create spectacle94. While

“Gedenkstätte am konkreten Ort sind freilich schwer erträgliche Plätze” (Benz qtd. in Endlich

Gedenken und lernen, 10)95, they represent a unique opportunity for a deep pedagogical experience. In the work Pädagogische Arbeit in und mit NS-Gedenkstätten [Pedagogical Work in and with Nazi Memorials], Uwe Neirich praises the pedagogical function of such sites as

“[d]er direkte Kontakt mit den Überresten der Vergangenheit ist für die Besucher besonders wichtig. Sie wollen die historischen Orte in ihrem möglichst originalen Zustand betrachten und neben realen Eindrücken eigene Erfahrungen mit Geschichte machen” (Neirich 29)96. In reference to the teaching benefits for children and youth, he contends that “[s]ie sind von den originalen Gegenständen, Gebäuden, Dokumenten und den zeitgenössischen Filmen am stärksten

92 All three sites informed me that relatively few or no objects were actually found on site. 93 Pirna-Sonnenstein and Schloss Hartheim 94 Perhaps the only instances which boarder on this are the lighting at Pirna-Sonnenstein, and the display of found artifacts with limited signage. Lennon and Foley warn that objects without interpretation can create an implication of spectacle. 95 “Memorials at the actual site of terror are admittedly difficult places”. [my translation] 96 “The direct contact with remnants of the past is extremely important for the visitor. They want to observe the historical places in their most original condition and alongside real impressions, make their own experiences with history”. [my translation]

60 beeindrukt” (Neirich 28)97. Pirna-Sonnenstein and Schloss Hartheim provide further potential to affect the viewer through an authentic representation of the past.

Grafeneck, Pirna-Sonnenstein, and Schloss Hartheim are all to be considered to be classified as “perpetrator sites”, which face the duality of both exploring and presenting the

National Socialists and their reign of terror at these locations, but also function as a memorial to the victims (Pearce 168). The sites, as will be discussed in greater length in this chapter, also all represent contested moments in history. They all make attempt to bear witness to the past and commemorate the deaths that took place onsite, but also mirror a sense of repression or reluctance of memorialization from communities around them. While taking great care to appease and take great consideration for the communities around the sites, both the German and

Austrian people, but also perhaps more importantly, the peoples with mental and physical disabilities that interact with the sites daily, the sites can become sanitized and “cannot provide an ‘authentic’ experience but rather an interpretive memorial experience” (Young qtd. in Lennon and Foley 40). A reluctance to display all aspects of history, be it positive or negative elements in cultural society, is thus providing an incomplete narrative about the events that took place at the site (Lennon and Foley 34). This is in keeping with the difficulty in other mediums of representation in finding a balance between commemorating the German victims, while acknowledging the German perpetrators.

Each of the sites presents a distinctive style of learning about the history of Aktion T4 and the specific events that took place at each site, how and what to present in the museum or documentation centre, and a distinctive memorialization history. Each site also clearly reflects specific political trends in memorization, and thereby functions as a lens through which to view

97 “They are most affected by original objects, buildings, documents, and contemporary films”. [my translation]

61 the difference in the Vergangenheitsbewältigung [working through the past] in each region, and the individual sites are a reflection of society’s inclusion of Aktion T4 in overall Holocaust discourse. As many scholars have suggested, the role of the museum is to present information whilst engaging in the public sphere, and synthesizing the past with the present. As such,

Grafeneck, Pirna-Sonnenstein and Schloss Hartheim play important roles in the dissemination of historical information and engagement in current discourses on disability and memorialization.

An important factor which also affects memorialization at these three sites if the current use of the space today. While unlike at other sites of Holocaust destruction and mass gassings, which remain exclusively areas for memorialization and remembrance, these sites are places which are once again being used to house people with special needs. In some respect there is a lack of sacredness for the memory of those who were murdered at the sites. The memory of these victims has been glossed over or diminished in an attempt to return the space to their original function of an institution for people with disabilities. It has been stated that the memorialization aspect at these sites is secondary to the current institutions, as to not upset the current residents. However, such statements trivialize the importance of memorialization.

Conversely, one could argue that by having people with disabilities so visible at the sites that a dialogue about the history of Aktion T4 and the current treatment of people with disabilities has been opened up. These sites are no longer just a place to lay a wreath and commemorate the victims in a grim and official manner, but rather the presence of people with disabilities allows visitors to confront “living victims” and better contextualize the history. The victims are no longer an abstract idea, but they are present. The stigma of “otherness” and being an isolated group has been removed as the visitor is in direct contact with said group. With the dual function of being both a memorial space and functioning institution, the function of these sites

62 are twofold: they are both a Holocaust memorial site, but also a working institution for people with disabilities. This bilateral function is precisely the reason why there has been such a convoluted memorialization history.

A. Grafeneck

Amidst the rolling hills of the Schwäbisch Alb, 60 kilometres south of , and close to the city of

Münsigen and the famous 16th century stud farm of Marbach, one can find Schloss Grafeneck perched high upon a hill.

Originally built in the mid 15th century by the Ritter von Figure 2: Gateway to Grafeneck

Grafeneck, the brightly painted yellow Rococo chateau has the imposing history of once being a hunting retreat for royalty, Herzog Carl Eugen’s impressive redesigned baroque private summer residence, an evangelical Samaritan foundation (Samariterstiftung) for people with disabilities, and a centre for National Socialist euthanasia murders. While the area is undoubtedly striking in its scenic location, it is extremely remote. While this aspect would have been advantageous for the National Socialists whilst setting up a secluded centre for Aktion T4 murders, it is not favourable for “casual” visitors wishing to visit the site98.

Returned once again to the Samaritan organization by the French after the war, the site is now a fully functioning complex for 110 people with mental and physical disabilities. The current centre atop the hill is comprised of the castle, various institutional residences and buildings, and an agricultural and livestock farm, all of which belong to the Samaritan

98 The memorial site receives an extremely large number of visitors each year in comparison to other Aktion T4 memorial centres. These are normally part of pre-organized tours or outings as part of church, school, or training groups. Unlike other Holocaust memorial sites which receive many “casual” visitors, be it single or small unorganized groups, this does not seem the case at Grafeneck.

63 foundation. An area devoted to memorialization can be found at the far end of the complex, with a documentation centre nestled between the residences. Although the centre is open to the public and very receptive to receive visitors, one gets the impression that one is intruding on the lives of those living at the institution. Sheep and goats roam the main lane that runs through the

Samaritan complex, and during my two visits in 2007 and 2009, I was more likely to run into wandering livestock than other visitors to the memorial site. Apart from the grand castle located at the far end of the lane, no historical architectural features remain from the time of Nazi control. Returned to the Samaritan institution, as it was before the war, life has returned to what it had previously been. The concept of the memorial centre’s physical remoteness is also evocative of memorialization problems at Grafeneck, but also in Southwest Germany, and West

Germany in general. The return of the grounds immediately following the war to the organization that once ran the former institute mirrors West German trends to return to the status quo without extensive working though of the Nazi past. Whereas Grafeneck was the first site selected to be a killing centre, it was one of the last sites to open a formal memorial centre on site.

i. Memorialization at Grafeneck and Southwest Germany

After falling into serious disrepair in the late 19th century, Grafeneck castle was purchased to become a forestry office, and later as the private residence of the von Tessin family.

In 1928, the lands were acquired by the evangelical Samaritan Foundation Stuttgart, and the castle became an institution for disabled men. In the fall of 1939, Grafeneck was suggested to be the first euthanasia centre by the Württembergischen Innenministeriums in Stuttgart. The remote area of Grafeneck was completely surrounded by a barbed wire fence, with guard towers.

The chateau became the administrative office and home for the Nazi personnel onsite, and a

64 complete “killing complex” was created about 500 metres down the central lane. This complex was comprised of a gassing shed, cremation oven, a garage for the transport buses, and a high wooden fence (Stöckle Gedenkstätte Grafeneck 37). Grafeneck was only operational for one year, from January to December 1940. Within this time period, an estimated 10,654 men, women, and children from institutions and homes in Baden-Württemberg, , Hessen and

North Rhine- were murdered. Unlike at other Aktion T4 sites, there were no 14f13 murders onsite.

In several sources, Director of Grafeneck and prominent Grafeneck historian, Thomas

Stöckle argues that the early closure of Grafeneck was the result of several factors which include the fact that “Geheime Reichssache Grafeneck” was no longer a secret, an increase in protests from individuals and church groups, and that Grafeneck had met its prescribed quota of 10,600 victims in Southwest Germany (Stöckle Gedenkstätte Grafeneck 46). After the closure of the site, many members of the personnel were transferred to the euthanasia centre in Hadamar, which continued operations until . Many influential leaders at Grafeneck went on to prominent positions in the extermination camps in the east99. From 1941 to 1945 the castle building was used to house Hitlerjugend and in the “Kinderlandverschickung” initiative, a retreat to protect evacuated children from large cities from bombings. In 1945, the building was used as a convalescent home for French children. After the war, the French returned the lands to the

Samaritan institute, and in their 1946 annual report, the foundation labelled Grafeneck a

“Menschenvernichtungsanstalt”.

99 Dr. was the director at Grafeneck and Sonnenstein and he later went on to become a camp doctor in charge of selections at Auschwitz. Christian Wirth was an administrative leader at Grafeneck and Hartheim, and later became a commandant at Belzec.

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Memorialization at Grafeneck after the war was significantly underdeveloped until the

1980s, and to further extent until the beginning of the 21st century. Immediately after the war, a

1949 trial took place in Tübingen, and similar to other trials, there were limited judicial repercussions for those persons involved in the murders at Grafeneck100. The decades of the

1950s and 60s were a period of repression and denial (Stöckle Gedenkstätte Grafeneck 56). This is clearly exemplified in an April 21, 1961 newspaper article commemorating the 400th anniversary of Grafeneck Castle. While the article goes on at great length to profess the grandeur of the chateau, only one simple line is included about the history of Nazi actions at the castle101. The article thereby concentrates on the beauty of the castle, but glosses over the ugly past. In following the trend of repression and denial of this time period, the article neither names the perpetrator, nor the victim group. Perhaps the most stunning act of repression occurred in

1965 when the former shed used for the gas chambers was rather “willingly” (Stöckle personal interview) torn down to make room for the expansion of the agricultural activities on the grounds. With this, the last architectural remnants of the site’s T4 history were thus demolished.

Although this time period did bring some positive advancements in memory work, as seen in the

1962 work on the memorial area to officially bury the 270 urns found on site after the Nazis had left Grafeneck in March 1941, there was still no memorial plaque or sign indicating what had occurred on these grounds. Silence abounded at Grafeneck.

100 Of the 10 men and women tried, five were acquitted, and five received sentences ranging from 18 months, to life imprisonment. Two of the latter terms were later reduced to 11 and 12 years. 101 “Bei Kriegsbeginn beschlagnahmte die Geheime Staatspolizei das Haus, und geheimnisvolle Umtriebe gaben dem Namen Grafeneck einen unerfreundlichen Beigeschmack” (qtd. in Stöckle Gedenksätte Grafeneck 57) [“At the outbreak of the war the Secret State Police sequestered the house, and secretive activities gave the name Grafeneck a negative connotation.“[my translation]

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1979 represented a turning point in public memory work on site. As part of an action conceptualized by the Samaritarstift Grafeneck and religious groups in the nearby town of Münsingen, a march to the Grafeneck and a church service were held to commemorate the 40th anniversary of the take-over of

Grafeneck by the Nazis. This church service became an Figure 3: Grafeneck cemetery annual event at the site which drew public attention to the events of 1940. The first memorial plaque, however, was only allowed by the Samaritan foundation to be installed on the grounds in

1982. This plaque contained a Bible verse, and the simple statement “Zum Gedenken an die

Opfer der Unmenschlichkeit – Grafeneck 1940” [In remembrance of the victims of inhumanity –

Grafeneck 1940]. It thereby did not name the perpetrator, who the victims were, or why they were specifically chosen. A further plaque was installed in 1985 which made more explicit mention of the events that took place in 1941. The question remains, however, as to why it took so many years for the first physical edifice to memorialize the Aktion T4 murders at Grafeneck to be installed. In Karl Morlok’s 1985 book, Geheime Reichssache Grafeneck, he places part of the blame for the silence on the Samaritan foundation. He states that the Samaritan organization deliberately did not erect a memorial sign, as to not remind the residents of the institution of such a traumatic time. It was not until such time that considerable and pressing questions were being raised about what took place at Grafeneck, and how it could have happened, that it became unavoidable to delay the disclosure of the information. The foundation thereby chose to not disclose and officially commemorate the events that took place at Grafeneck for fear that they would be disturbing to the residents of the current institution. This lack of accepting and atoning

67 for the past is in keeping with the trend of silence surrounding the topic of Aktion T4 memorialization.

The late 1980s and early 1990s brought about a surge of memory work at Grafeneck. In

1989 the memorial chapel, designed by Professor Eberhard Weinbrenner, was constructed. The pentagonal open concept chapel has become a location for official commemoration activities.

Under the precept of the 1990 motto “Das Gedenken braucht einen Ort” [Commemoration needs a Place], plans began for a more expansive memorial centre on site, as well as a temporary exhibit in the castle proper. In 1995, the Book of Names, containing the personal information of over 8,000 victims was permanently installed close to the outdoor chapel. In 1998 an Alphabet

Garden installation by American artist Dianne Samuels was created. The most recent physical phase was the 2005 opening of a Documentation Centre.

Grafeneck was featured prominently in regional newspapers in 2000. Many articles featured information about the history of Grafeneck during 1940, and memorialization initiatives which were beginning at that time. Also featured significantly was the debate surrounding

Thomas Stöckle’s position at Grafeneck. Stöckle had been hired in 1996 as a historian at the site, but it was not a permanent position. As of 2000, Grafeneck was the only memorial site in

Germany without a permanent historian position (Natter). Stöckle had originally been employed by the “Arbeitskreis Gedenkstätte Grafeneck”, but costs for his salary were later supplemented by the province of Baden-Württemberg (Laepple). This debate over the financing of a position so integral to the development of the memorial site is indicative of problems of accepting

Grafeneck as an important site of history in Southwest Germany, and one that was significant

68 enough to warrant a full time research position 102. The lack of commitment to financially support research on site suggests that Grafeneck is not as important or relevant as other

Holocaust sites in Germany, and thereby not worthy of monetary support. Grafeneck played an important role as the first site of mass gassings in Germany, but the reluctance to finance a position implies a continued overlooking of the significance of the historical site.

The remote location of Grafeneck is a prominent deterrent for the casual visitor. While the documentation centre receives a large number of visitors, 15,000 from over 150 groups in 2007, these are mainly visitors from organized church, school, university, medical or retirement groups. The remote location and lack of signage is not conducive or inviting for “accidental” or casual tourists who “stumble” Figure 4: Entrance road to across the former euthanasia site (Figure 4). In a 2007 regional Grafeneck from bus stop. No train stop at site despite a train running through the area. newspaper article, Julie-Sabine Geiger writes: “wer sich auf den unbequemen Weg macht, der Geschichte der nationalsozialistischen Euthanasie-Verbrechen in

Grafeneck nachzuspüren, muss seine Route sorgsam vorbereiten”103. This statement is extremely apropos as there is no direct train104 or bus route to the site, and it requires a complicated public transportation trip involving several transfers to reach the site.105 This remoteness of Grafeneck is in stark contrast to other former sites of Nazi terror, which are more

“user friendly” in that direct modes of public transportation or easier routes have been designed

102 At present there are only two employees at the memorial site due to funding. 103 “Those who wish to take the uncomfortable path to trace the history of National Socialist euthanasia crimes at Grafeneck must carefully plan their route.” [my translation] 104 There are train tracks that run below the hill but a train does not stop at Grafeneck. 105 On my first visit to Grafeneck in 2007, the trip involved three bus and train transfers and took over three hours from Tübingen to Grafeneck (a roughly 20km distance). Private transport is thereby the most common mode of transportation to reach Grafeneck.

69 to accommodate more frequent visitors. Mainly the visitors arrive by private cars, or through an organized coach. The fact that there is very little signage leading to and indicating the site106 has created some controversy. In a 2009 interview, Thomas Stöckle mentioned that some people at

Grafeneck believed “nach Grafeneck kommen nicht so viele Besucher, deshalb brauchen wir kein Schild” (Stöckle interview)107. This only perpetuates a vicious circle of not wanting to attract visitors, as they are not aware of the historical significance of Grafeneck. The 2007 newspaper article also brought further attention to the lack of signage, two years after the opening of the documentation centre. Geiger questions whether the lack of signs is indicative of laxity or a shamed hiding of the uncomfortable Nazi past. mayor Klemens Betz offers one reason for a lack of signs. “Bevor die Gedenkstätte und später auch das Schlosscafé eröffnet wurden, gab es dort nichts Touristisches”108. This statement completely dismisses and subverts the importance of the memorialization and at this site of Nazi terror. It highlights a reluctance on the part of the Gedenkstätte Grafeneck to become a tourist destination, such as former concentration camps in Germany.

This lack of promotion for Grafeneck in the public sphere is also clearly apparent in a lack of promotional advertising and reference in popular culture109. Though there is a Grafeneck website, the memorial site is absent from many websites about surrounding cities and their touristic highlights. The nearby town of Bad Ulrach highlights the hiking and Marbach stud

106 There are small white signs at the turn off from the main road to the road leading to the complex, which indicate the Samaritan foundation, the café, and memorial site. A large street sign located on the road points which direction to Marbach, and highlights the direction to the stud farm, but no mention of the memorial site at Grafeneck. 107 “Not a lot of visitors come to Grafeneck, so therefore we do not need a sign” [my translation] 108 “Before the memorial site, and then late the Cafe, there wasn’t any tourist potential” [my translation] 109 It is also not to say that Grafeneck is completely ignored in public memorialization. While the site does not feature prominently in more public venues such as the internet sites of local towns and cities, or maps, information about the memorial site can be found in government publications about memorial sites in Baden-Württemberg, pedagogical material about teaching practices about memorial sites, and the Stiftung Topographie des Terrors magazine.

70 farm, but not Grafeneck. This is similar to Gomadingen, which highlights the aforementioned attractions, but also makes an extremely brief mention of Grafeneck in the bottom corner.

Grafeneck does appear on the webpage of the Landkreis Münsingen more prominently, even though Grafeneck is actually to be included under the land jurisdiction of Gomadingen. Many of the more casual visitors to Grafeneck have been made aware of the site from the travelling exhibition which has been displayed at former concentration camps or churches. Unlike memorial centres such as Schloss Hartheim and Pirna-Sonnenstein, which are more “user friendly” and visually prominent, Grafeneck appears to be still located on the periphery of public consciousness.

Trends in memorialization at Grafeneck are not an isolated occurrence, as similar developments can be ascertained in other areas of commemoration in the former West Germany.

Memorialization of the Holocaust in the former West Germany began as a delicate relationship and inherent balance between memory and justice on one side, and democracy on the other (Herf

7). The initially brought the topic of Nazi crimes to the forefront of public awareness, but also presented the rejection of the concept of ‘collective guilt’ within the German population, in favour of the attitude of individual political and moral responsibility (Herf 208).

There was an overarching concept that the economic, political, and physical rebuilding of the country would take precedence over the memorialization of the Holocaust. In 1983, German philosopher Herman Lübbe argued that that “partial silence” about the Nazi past had been a

“social-psychological political necessity for the transformation of our postwar population into the citizenry of the Federal Republic” (qtd. in Herf, 6). As in East Germany, it was believed in

West Germany that “those who focused only on the bright future saw no place for an evil past”

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(Herf 392). The focus on economic development can clearly be exemplified by the

Wirtschaftswunder [economic miracle] following the war.

The first Chancellor of the Federal Republic, Konrad Adenauer, has been scrutinized for his politics during this time. While Adenauer did want to erode Nazism in Germany and originally called for justice for crimes committed (Herf 217, 221), he also promoted the acceptance of so-called Mitläufer [by-standers, lit. ‘fellow traveller’]110 back into the community.

As of 1949, he was outspoken on his views to end de-nazification and extensive trials, and has been criticized for his refusal to seek justice “energetically” in German courts (Herf 7). This fostered the precarious notion that there was a “replacement of the idea of collective guilt with a new myth of collective innocence and collective nonresponsibility” (Herf 294).

During Adenauer’s years as Chancellor, Wiedergutmachung [moral and material restitution] began in West Germany. The model of restitution, however, was considered to be an easier alternative to seeking justice in the courts, or prosecuting prominent individuals. The qualifications for restitution were at first rather limited. The initial laws of 1947 focused on losses of property or devaluation of assets. Those who had suffered physical harm, lost family members, or years of their lives could not apply for compensation (Lüdtke 563). As such, this did not apply to victims of Aktion T4 or their families. The second law of compensation of 1956 broadened the restrictions, but many other groups, such as Sinti and Roma, homeless peoples,

Asocial people, homosexuals, and communists still did not qualify. The laws, however, changed again to include more groups in the mid 1960s, but there are no reports of restitution for those affected by Aktion T4 in the Federal Republic.

110 It has been noted that this group was considered to be more like a victim than a perpetrator (Lüdtke 549). This is a very early indication of the struggles of viewing Germans as victims.

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The mid 1950s and early 1960s were marked by a period of repressing the memory of

National Socialism in West Germany. It was a time when people seemed to erase their own recollections of involvement, complicity, or support of the Nazi party, and the period of was all but forgotten. In his 1959 speech, “Was bedeutet: Aufarbeitung der Vergangenheit?”

[“What Does Coming to Terms with the Past Mean?”], Theodor Adorno contended that Germans both forgot or negated their involvement and experiences during National Socialist rule. This implication of silence was also prevalent at Grafeneck, as demonstrated in the lack of memorial signs, the newspaper article of 1961, and the tearing down of the former in 1965.

There was thus an erasure of the past in hopes of moving forward, returning life to ‘normal’ as it was before at Grafeneck, and forgetting what happened on site.

Commemorative ceremonies did not take place in the early years of the Federal Republic, but they were usually small, especially in comparison to those taking place in East Germany, and often Adenauer was absent (Herf 300). This is a strong indication of a reluctance to officially recognize the importance of the events. Alf Lüdtke draws attention to the lack of public commemoration in the 1950s and early 1960s as representative of a peculiar rationale of “the more public the commemoration, the more emotion and, presumably, irrational the voices or activities that might be triggered” (Lüdtke 555). Thus it was apparently commonplace to ‘forget’ in the public sphere, whereas lectures and texts, a more private means of discussion, would result in a more rational and orderly discussion about the topic (ibid). In the mid 1960s a change occurred in that Holocaust remembrance began to enter the public sphere in the form of the introduction of the use of public spaces for commemoration. However, this was only at several former concentration camps, and albeit in a modest fashion.

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In the late 1960s the Adenauer era beliefs were being challenged by a student movement which sought to question and confront the previous generation about their involvement with the country’s National Socialist past. With a continued growth in leftist politics and an increase in pedagogy in the 1970s, places of former terror, most specifically former concentration camps, became “locations of learning”, and also spaces for public commemoration and mourning.

Again these changes in a more accepted facing of the Nazi past is accredited to the second generation youth who began to raise questions publicly about their parents’ and grandparents’ involvement with the Holocaust (Lüdtke 557). The topic of the Holocaust also gained further attention in politics. In 1977, Chancellor Helmut Schmidt became the first West German

Chancellor to deliver a speech at Auschwitz-Birkenau, and he is quoted as saying: “We Germans of today are not guilty as individual persons, but we must bear the political legacy of those who were guilty. That is our responsibility.” (qtd. in Herf 346). Thus a shift began away from the notion of individual responsibility, to dealing with the past in a collective manner.

1979 also marked a year in which the topic of the Holocaust reached a large audience in

West Germany through the four part showing of the US produced film Holocaust. The film, which shed light on the limited amount of historical research into the subject, raised many questions and shock within the German public. The film focused on a Jewish family and the

Jewish suffering during the Holocaust. All other victim groups who had been targeted during the

Holocaust were not included in the film111. The absence of other victim groups is symptomatic of the common notion of the marginalized “overlooked” and “forgotten” victims being excluded from general Holocaust discourse in West Germany. It was not until the 1980s, and indeed to a

111 In his article ““Coming to Terms with the Past”: Illusions of Remembering, Ways of Forgetting Nazism in West Germany”, Alf Lüdtke names “communists, socialists, and Christian believers as well as other victims like homosexuals, [...] or Gypsies” (Lüdtke 544). I wish to add the victims of Aktion T4 to that list.

74 greater extent into the 1990s, that the aforementioned groups were introduced into political and public debates. However, little scholarly literature mentions the inclusion of Aktion T4 onto growing lists of popularly recognized Nazi victims112.

The end of the brought about further confrontation with the Holocaust, especially with a less politicized agenda. 1990 thus marked a certain de-politization surrounding the Holocaust, and an opportunity to examine the topic of German suffering113. The election of

Chancellor Gerhard Schröder in 1998 signalled a movement away from his predecessor Helmut

Kohl’s concepts of universality in his approach to victimhood, and an opportunity for further examination of the complex theme of Germans as victims.

Scholars such as Herf (394) and Lüdtke (571) are of the consensus that there was a gross inadequacy in memorialization, and also in the speed and severity of the seeking of justice in

West Germany. While Herf is critical that the “efforts of the Federal Republic to confront the crimes of the Nazi past in the crucial decade of the 1950s were not adequate”, he concedes that

“seeds were planted which eventually grew into a broader and more vigorous public memory”

(Herf 394), especially in comparison to the memorialization practices in the former East

Germany.

Memorialization practices at Grafeneck are not dissimilar to memory work at smaller former sites of National Socialist terror in the areas surrounding Grafeneck, in Baden-

112 In his introduction, “German Victimhood at the Turn of the Millennium”, Bill Niven states that much has been done in united Germany to bring “public attention, commemorate and memorialize the suffering of other non-Jewish minorities of Hitler”, and continues by naming: homosexuals, Jehovah’s Witnesses, Sinti and Roma, and deserters from the Wehrmacht (Niven 2, 5). Lüdtke goes further to include “those who had been sterilized or mistreated in various ways by medical ““experiments”” (Lüdtke 568). The inclusion of the gassings of those with mental or physical disabilities in glaringly absent. 113113 Bill Niven argues that although the topic of Germans as victims did enter public discourse, it was not until the election of Gerhard Schröder in 1998 that there was a shift away from Kohl’s universalising approach to the concept of victimhood in Germany (Niven 4-6).

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Württemberg. The small town of Bisingen has recently erected signs and plaques around the city

to guide visitors through the areas of Nazi history. The subcamp at Hailfingen/Tailfingen was

almost completely unknown until a 2009 local documentary brought attention to it. Until then, a

dilapidated sign from the 1980s was all that was present to indicate the area’s history. The one

exception is the town of Buttenhausen. This small town had a well established Jewish

community dating back centuries, and was a town with an example of positive German/Jewish

relations. There have been many public and private commemorations in the town, which

includes an extensive museum and signage through the town. Further attention was drawn to the

town, and the nearly intact Jewish cemetery in Rainer Gross’ novel Grafeneck (2007)114.

ii.Gedenkstätte Grafeneck: “Ort der Information”

Opened in 2005, the “Dokumentationszentrum” is not to be confused with a

museum, but rather it is a place for historical and political learning. In literature about the site, it

refers to itself with the term “Bildungsstätte”

[educational institution]. The modern, crisp, well lit115,

open-concept rooms that house the permanent

exhibition are more reminiscent of an office, than a

Holocaust related site museum. But the documentation

116 Figure 5: Grafeneck Dokumentationszentrum centre at Grafeneck does not profess to be a museum ,

and stresses with emphasis that it is a “place of information” (Stöckle Gedenkstätte Grafeneck 5)

114 For further information, please see Chapter 4 for more discussion. 115 The main room is lit with both natural and florescent light. The smaller room is lit with artificial light. 116 Even the naming of the “documentation centre” places emphasis on learning through documents. Material about the memorial site does make mention of the permanent exhibit on display at the centre, but as a part of the documentation centre, but not the sole thrust of Grafeneck. In a traditional sense a museum includes more artifacts. The documentation centre at Grafeneck is truly a place for the historical presentation of information, not a traditional museum experience of engaging with the past with interactive or multimedia exhibits, or through the viewing of authentic artifacts.

76 and a pedagogical centre. The centre, which is located in a small house located halfway between the chateau and memorial area, houses archives, administrative offices, a library, and the permanent exhibit, ““Euthanasie” Verbrechen in Südwestdeutschland” [“Euthanasia” Crimes in South-West Germany]. Director and historian Thomas Stöckle is proud of the historical thrust of the documentation centre. There are no artefacts presented117, and the exhibit relies on reproduced propaganda posters, photos and descriptive texts to impart the history of Aktion T4 at

Grafeneck. The exhibit material and exhibit catalogue are presented solely in German, which restricts the demographics of the visitors who can understand the exhibit material. Tours are available in English, with advance registration.

The permanent exhibit is housed in two rooms118. The largest room, and first visited after passing through the lobby, is entitled “Die NS-

Euthanasie-Verbrechen” [The Nazi Euthanasia crimes], and focuses on the history of National Socialist euthanasia. This is truly the core of the documentation centre. The room is abundant with information about the history of Aktion T4, the events that took place at Figure 6: "Die NS-Euthanasie-Verbrechen" exhibit space

Grafeneck and its connection to Berlin and Stuttgart, information about one victim119, and protests against the T4 actions at Grafeneck. There is detailed information about the numbers of

117 In our 2009 conversation, Thomas Stöckle mentioned that unlike at other memorial sites, such as Schloss Hartheim, there were no artifacts such as eye glasses or cups found at the site. He states that artifacts could have been brought to Grafeneck, but this would only be a symbolic representation and would not be authentic. 118 There is also a comprehensive touring exhibit which has been featured at other former concentration camps. I visited said exhibit at the Mittelbau-Dora camp in 2007. The exhibit did not have the same lighting scheme as at the centre at Grafeneck, but it was very extensive and contained almost all of information panels that are present in the permanent exhibit. 119 By only including one victim, there is therefore an emphasis to remove the emotional reaction to the history. The thrust here is learning about history, without emotional attachment. This focus is on the facts, without passing judgment on how events transpired.

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victims, and which specific institutions sent their patients to Grafeneck. The exhibit also makes

mention of the significance of Aktion T4 as a model for the gassings during the Holocaust,

firmly situating the role of Grafeneck and National Socialist euthanasia in context with the later

murders of the Holocaust.

The second and smaller room, “Erinnerung”

[Memory / Remembrance], is devoted to providing

information about the history of Grafeneck from 1941

to the present day. This section of the exhibit

Figure 7: Grafeneck: "Erinnerung" exhibit space attempts to raise questions about society’s ability to

process the murders, both in public and judicial realms. The extensive exhibit catalogue states:

Neben der historischen Perspektive auf Opfer und Täter, Denkstrukturen und Machtmechanismen richtet die Ausstellung ihren Blick auch auf die Zeit nach 1945. Die Ausstellung fragt auch nach den Rahmenbedingungen, unter denen sich die Erinnerung versucht, ihren Weg zu bahnen. (Stöckle Gedenkstätte Grafeneck 51)120 Each informational panel in this room examines a different decade, and discusses problems and

hindrances associated with the memorialization of Aktion T4 at Grafeneck. Topics such as the

criminal trials of the perpetrators, the denial of memory in the 1950s and 1960s, and the

memorialization narrative at Grafeneck are all prominently featured, which indicates that the

Grafeneck Gedenkstätte is open about all aspects of its history, including tumultuous periods of

memorialization. The exhibit also includes a list of other monuments that are present in

Southwest Germany. In contrast to other sites, such as Pirna-Sonnenstein, the history of the

memorialization practices at Grafeneck is displayed significantly. The Gedenkstätte Grafeneck

120 “Apart from the historical perspective on victim and perpetrator, thought structures and power mechanism, the exhibit also focuses on the time after 1945. The exhibit furthermore questions the conditions under which memory tries to manifest itself.” [my translation]

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has taken control of their history, and is actively presenting it. Without delving into extensive

political background information about what was occurring each decade, the informational

panels clearly display changes in memory work at the site, but also lapses at the time. Similar to

the other panels in the more historical part of the exhibit, the information is presented in a very

clear historical manner, without attaching emotional subtext.

There is a very different visual aesthetic in each of the two rooms121. While the slate

floor remains the same in both rooms, there is a clear divergence dominating the two rooms. The

first historical room is made up of black and

white informational panels that are lit from

overhead lights. The black and white colouring

alludes to the “black and white” factual nature of

the historical details. At the end of the room

Figure 8 – Grafeneck: visual connection between the past and there is an architectural feature which opens the present, as seen from main exhibit room room up to the landscape below. A photo

depicting the area during Aktion T4 time is clearly seen to the left, and the current landscape to

the centre and right (Figure 8). This visual aspect of the photo and the surrounding landscape

visible beyond the plane of glass further places the room in its historical context. Here past and

present are converging. It is symbolic as the visitor has the distinct reaction that the past and the

present must be forever linked. One must transition from the past to reach the present, and

therefore one cannot overlook the memory of Aktion T4.

121 This colour scheme is continued throughout all printed materials, to maintain a contextual separation between each distinct exhibit room.

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The second room is optically different, in that the dominating visual motif is a radiating blue colour. Here the information panels are printed on light blue plastic sheets that are backlit from vertical florescent lights. The glow cast by these panels is calming, and there is a gentle quality to the uniformity of the lighting. In contrast to the black and white panels which appear to be more flat and lifeless, this room exudes a feeling of being “alive”, which coincides with the room’s theme of memory and memorialization being alive at Grafeneck today. The final panel of the exhibit features questions about memorialisation practices, which signals to the viewer that it is still important to continue questioning the role of Aktion T4 representation.

Opposite from the chateau along the central lane, and roughly 500 metres northwest of the documentation Figure 9 - Grafeneck: entrance to the memorial area centre, one can find the outdoor memorial area. The area consists of a cemetery, a small open-air chapel, memorial book of names, and an “Alphabet

Garden”. In 1990, an additional marble plaque was added to the memorial area. It specifically mentions that the 10, 654 mentally and physically disabled victims were gassed as part of the

National Socialist regime as part of a program to murder those deemed unworthy of life. An additional important aspect of this plaque is that is continues along the ground, and one must step on it in order to cross into the memorial area122 (Figure 9). The fact that the visitor must walk across the memorial, something which one does not normally do, forces engagement with it. In following the concept of the countermonument, the visitor is not merely an observer of the stone panel, but they must now engage with the panels that run beneath their feet. If small pebbles

122 The difficulty with this, however, is that small white pebbles obscure the writing on the ground plaque and it is difficult to read the text (See Figure 9). The text along the ground includes the names of the institutions which contributed patients to Grafeneck in 1940.

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cover the words, one must brush them away themselves to read them. As such the viewer is no

longer passive, but actively engaging with the monument. The plaques on the ground also

function as a form of threshold to the memorial area beyond. As one walks over them, it is very

clear spatially that one has now entered into a commemorative space.

As previously mentioned, the cemetery was the first act of memorialization at Grafeneck.

The cemetery had been in use since 1930, to bury those who had

died of natural causes at Grafeneck. It was not until 1962 that

plans were set in motion to construct a memorial for those who

had died in 1940. The memorial consisted of a bowed stone wall,

a stone cross, and the official of the 270 urns that were left

on the site in March 1941. The location of these urns is marked

with flowers and a bronze ground plaque (Figure 3). This

memorial plaque was the first plaque allowed on the grounds by

Figure 10: 1985 installed plaque the Samaritans (Stöckle Gedenkstätte Grafeneck 61). It

contains a small bible passage, but not specific historical details. A larger freestanding vertical

plaque (Figure 10), installed in 1985, mentions that the graveyard is now once again used for

people who have passed away at the Grafeneck institute. The wording on the plaque is not

specific in identifying the actual details of the perpetrators and victims at Grafeneck. It does

state that it was Hitler’s euthanasia program, but it avoids explicating naming the perpetrators

who partook in the murders at Grafeneck, presumably for legal reasons123. The mention of

123 The plaque reads: “In der Nähe des landwirtschaftlichen Gebäudes wurde dann eine Tötungsanstalt zur Durchführung von Hitlers Euthanasie-Programm eingerichtet. Mehr als 10 500 Menschen sind hier von Januar bis Dezember 1940 vergast worden. Die meisten dieser behinderten Frauen, Männer und Kinder kamen aus badischen, bayerischen und württembergischen Heimen und Anstalten.” (“Close to the agricultural buildings was then established a killing centre for the implementation of Hitler’s euthanasia programme. More than 10,500 people

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euthanasia murders is also only part of a longer narrative of the complete history of the cemetery

included on the plaque. It concludes by reinforcing that the cemetery land is now once again

used by the Samaritan organization for the “original purposes”124, a further attestation that life

continued on at this site. The absence of the explicit naming of the victims or perpetrators is in

keeping with prevailing trends in West German memorialization at that time. Alf Lüdtke argues

that there was a notion that “in state or community commemoration of the dead from fascism,

nobody cared to address the individual human beings who had been tormented or killed. [...]

Secular ceremonies of commemoration do not name or explicitly mention individuals who had

become victims” (Lüdtke 558) This is clearly exemplified in the original memorial plaques

erected at Grafeneck in that did not explicitly name the victim group. By avoiding the overt

identification of victims, the idea of ‘fascism’, potential guilt or shared complacency, is kept at a

distance. Therefore the general and anonymous “relationships of violence”, is maintained

(Lüdtke 560). Here the taboo of publicly

recognizing German suffering and representing

Germans as victims still existed.

Beside the cemetery stands the 1989

constructed open-air chapel (Figure 11). As part of

the 1990 “Das Gedenken braucht einen Ort” Figure 11: Grafeneck chapel motto, the chapel has become an important

location for commemoration. The dominating broken stone located at the rear centre of the

were gassed here from January to December 1940. The majority of these disabled women, men, and children came from Baden, Bavarian and Württemberg asylums and institutions.” [my translation]) 124 The plaque reads: “1947 wurde Grafeneck an die Samariterstiftung zurückgegeben. Seither dient der Friedhof seiner ursprünglichen Bestimmung.” (“In 1947 Grafeneck was returned to the Samaritan Foundation. Since then the cemetery has been serving its initial purpose.” [my translation])

82 structure is said to symbolize the break in civilization encountered during the Aktion T4 murders

(Stöckle Gedenkstätte Grafeneck 62), which is a common visual motif employed in Holocaust memorialization. The loose gravel stones which serve as the floor of the chapel give a sense of unease and difficulty when attempting to traverse the chapel grounds. Although there are several religious icons, the calmness and remote location away from other buildings suggest an area of contemplation or commemoration, as opposed to a religious experience. However, unlike at

Schloss Hartheim, there are no seats at the chapel, which does not invite the visitor to sit and reflect, but it is rather conducive only for a more mobile experience. The seats at Schloss

Hartheim invite the visitor to sit down and devote time to reflect on the events that took place on site. Due to the outdoor nature of the chapel, it is in fact more inviting for the visitor to linger at the chapel in pleasant weather, and thereby easier to avoid in harsher conditions.

There has been extensive work done to collect the names and information for as many of the victims of Grafeneck as possible, and since 1995 their names have has been presented in a memorial book (Figure 12). The names of over 8,000 victims have been discovered. As of 1998, this book has been a permanent feature of the memorial area. Printed on white laminated sheets and housed inside a glass box, to protect it from the elements, the book is available to all visitors who wish to search through it. The book also

Figure 12: Book of Names represents an ongoing task to continue memory work to discover information about the victims of Grafeneck. “Die Arbeit am Gedenkbuch wird weitergehen. Ganz konkret, aber auch symbolisch, steht sie doch für die Erinnerungs- und Gedenkstättenarbeit in Grafeneck überhaupt”

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(Stöckle Erinnern und Gedenken 184)125. The statement is indicative of the fact that Grafeneck in continuously engaging in learning more about the past. Since the book is located outdoors, it is always available for the visitor, even if the documentation centre is closed.

Adjacent to the aforementioned memorials is the Alphabet Garden, which was constructed in 1998. In conceiving the project, artist Diane Samuels wished to question how

Jewish victims are to be acknowledged at Grafeneck, if they should be represented separately from Christian victims, and how should Jewish and Christian victims whose identity is unknown be remembered (Samuels 21). Based on the Jewish folktale, which she entitles “The Alphabet

Story”, the installation is made up of 26 small granite squares with letters of the alphabet. These squares are to signify the names of the known and unknown victims. The squares with the

Roman alphabet are flush to the ground and are scattered throughout a small field, and can be walked on without damage. Due to the rustic environment of the Grafeneck grounds, Samuels did not want to create a “formal, high maintenance garden [that] would be not be aesthetically compatible or practical for the site” (ibid). As such, the stones can at times be covered over by nature, in the form of leaves, snow, or grass, or at times seen more clearly. It is to be a “work in progress” (Samuels 23), as the environment changes. In October 2000 a bench and stone from the Grafeneck castle were placed in the garden. The carved stone gives further details about the significance of the letters in the garden with the inscription: “Bitte, nimm meine Buchstaben und forme daraus Gebete”126. There is no plaque to further illuminate the significance of the granite squares as a form of a memorial. The visitor must therefore have gained previous knowledge from the documentation centre in order to fully comprehend the significance of the stones.

125 “The work on the memorial book will continue. Concretely, as well as symbolically, it represents the commemorative and memorial site’s work at Grafeneck altogether.” [my translation] 126 “Please, take my letters and form them into prayers” (Translation Samuels 23).

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Without such knowledge, it is easy to overlook the stones, and the artist’s intended memorialization intention.

Nothing authentic from the time of the Nazi control at Grafeneck remains at the site today. This makes it difficult for the visitor to contextualize the events, according to such scholars as Neirich, and the fact that there are no authentic historical traces at Grafeneck makes it difficult to conceptualize that the events actually took place here. As mentioned, the visitor often needs a physical object to make a tangible connection between the event that took place at the site, and the memorialization that is to occur at present day. In lieu of architectural remnants, a small sign now marks the location of the former gas chamber (Figure 13). Its simple statement reads, “Here once stood the building in which 10, 654 people were gassed to death”. The sign does not provide information about why the people were murdered, or

who they were, or who the perpetrators were, and thus further Figure 13 - Grafeneck: marked location of the original gas chamber background information must be discovered at the documentation centre127. Located between the documentation centre and the memorial area, the plaque and stones are nestled between two of the current institution’s residences, and can be easy to overlook. There is no path that leads to the stone from the main street that runs through the complex. There is nothing to indicate if the stones themselves are authentic from the time

127 Suzanne Knittel is complimentary of the brevity of this sign (Knittel 127). While I concur that it is positive that one is encouraged to visit the documentation centre to obtain more information, the brevity of this sign, and its remote location, calls out to more to be overlooked than to be treated as a memorial. It is extremely easy to overlook whilst walking along the lane and its authenticity must be questioned. I am in agreement with Neirich that historically accurate elements are extremely important in order to comprehend this traumatic history. Also by not specifically identifying the victim group or those who were responsible, it is reverting back to trend of avoiding the naming of the victims and perpetrators which was popular in the Federal Republic in the 1960s.

85 period, or if they are a reproduction to indicate the foundation of the former building. As the shed that was used as the gassing building was torn down in 1965, this plaque and stones are all that remains to indicate the location of the shed. The fact that nothing remains at the site is suggestive of a desire to erase or forget the past. In keeping with the theme of the prevalence of the display of history at Grafeneck, this is to be viewed as a historical marker, and not a memorial to elicit emotion.

An aspect that stands out at Grafeneck is its ‘openness’, as reflected in both the documentation centre and the memorial area. In the documentation centre, large glass windows are abundant. Architecturally the high ceilings and prominent windows convey a sense of transparency, in that the topic of Aktion T4 at Grafeneck has been clearly put on display.

Although from the outside world it might seem as if the memorial centre is slightly hidden from the public eye, once one is at the site, visually the history is openly put on display.

Unlike at Pirna-Sonnenstein and Schloss Hartheim, if the documentation centre was to be closed, a visitor would still be able to look through the windows to gain some understanding Figure 14 - Grafeneck: view from inside the documentation centre, no visual barriers into the about the exhibit. History is thus put on display at all times. As building the memorial area is located outdoors, there is never a closed period. People who come on the weekends or holidays may not be able to view everything in the documentation centre, but they will be able to access the memorial areas to remember or mourn128.

128 The documentation centre is open daily, including weekends and public holidays from 9am to 6pm.

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iii. Current Trends in Memorialization: Grafeneck as an “Ort des Lebens”

Grafeneck was one of the last sites to construct a permanent memorial centre on site129, but it is recently making great strides to promote education in Southwest Germany. In 2009 there was an increase in publicity on the topic of Grafeneck and Aktion T4. One such example is a Master’s programme project from the Hochschule der Medien in Stuttgart, in which five short films and animated shorts were made about

Grafeneck. Grafeneck and Aktion T4 garnered further attention in 2009 in Stuttgart and surrounding areas to

th commemorate the 70 anniversary of the take-over of Figure 15 - Grafeneck: duality of living and the documentation centre, emphasis on the current Grafeneck, and the 60th anniversary of the judicial trial in institution

Tübingen. The largest commemorative activity which was organized that year was the “Spur der

Erinnerung” initiative. From October 12th to the 16th, thousands of school children, members of social initiatives, and engaged community members painted a 70km long path from Grafeneck to

Stuttgart, to bring attention to the memorialization of Aktion T4 victims130. As many people were actively involved in the creation of the painted trail, it brought further attention to the subject matter, and ensured that the memorialization was alive and active in this area. The

Gedenkstätte Grafeneck is also very active in extensive community outreach, in the form of numerous lectures, commemorative church services, and travelling exhibits.

While the documentation centre plays an important role as a source of education and memory work at Grafeneck, it could be argued that it should be combined, and thus put into

129 While several of the six former euthanasia centres were prompt in creating permanent exhibits and memorial areas, some were only built in the 2000s. The most recent memorial centre at is under construction as of January 2011, with an estimated completion date of the end of 2011. 130 For more information, please see http://www.spur-der-erinnerung.de

87 context, with the entire Samaritan home as an example of living with disabilities131. As such,

Grafeneck strives to become an “Ort des Lebens” (Samuels 45), as a form of living memorial.

Thus the site has taken on the onus to be both a place of ‘information’, as well as a place for the

‘living’. Although the monuments located here are static and do not have the power to engage the viewer, such as countermonuments at other sites, the importance of the institution that surrounds the memorials and documentation centre should not be discounted. In order to better educate the visitors about the negative effects of eugenics and discrimination against people with disabilities, the documentation centre is physically located right in the middle of the current institution. People visiting the site are almost certain to engage with the former victim group.

Stöckle also indicated the potential pedagogical function of the wandering sheep to create an allegory to the German population of the 1930s who blindly followed their leader (2009 interview). He also takes the position that the visual marker of seeing people with disabilities walking around the grounds makes it easier for people to contextualize the exhibit, and therefore history132. This is also in accordance with James Young’s statement that “imagining oneself – or another person – as a potential victim [is] the kind of leap necessary to prevent other holocausts”

(qtd. in Liss 740). Grafeneck can be viewed as a living memorial, and an Ort des Lebens, but it can also be deeply troubling for the viewer to confront both the history and the living victim group.

Grafeneck as a site of former terror, and now remembrance, is included much more prominently in literature about the Samariterstift Grafeneck, and has become an acknowledged

131As one can see in Figure 15, there is an emphasis on the current institution, as opposed to highlighting the memorial space for Aktion T4. 132 However this is done in quite a different manner when compared with Schloss Hartheim. Here the connection between history and the current residents of the institution is implicit. Granted one is able to see the former victim group residing around the documentation centre and memorial areas, there is no information to draw a direct connection for the visitor. Hartheim’s second museum devoted to educating the public about disabilities extracts a stronger correlation.

88 part of the overall narrative about the site. This is clearly seen in the signage at the entrance to the complex, where one side is devoted to the history of Grafeneck as an institution, and one side panel to the history of Grafeneck as one of the sites of euthanasia murders (see Figure 2). 75th anniversary promotional material about the Samaritan foundation features detailed information about the use of the site for Nazi euthanasia, the use of the castle for the

Kinderlandverschickung, and information about the memorialization today, alongside information about the institution’s current practices and activities.

Although the site remains relatively unknown to the residents of nearby cities and towns, the memorial site hopes to become a “Anlauf-, Auskunfts- und Informationsstelle für

Hintergebliebene, Familienangehörige und Nachkommen der “Euthanasie”-Opfer (und auch –

Täter) (Stöckle Erinnern und Gedenken 183)133. With the strong visual connection to the residents of the institution surrounding the documentation centre, another goal is to engage in current debates about bio-ethics, political extremism, and anti-Semitism (Plug 133). In conversation, Stöckle said work at Grafeneck has also raised questions about such topics as , the ageing German population, and state of health insurance.

Much historical research has taken place at Grafeneck, and the documentation centre reflects a place where people can go to investigate and learn about the past without an emphasis on emotional catharsis. But the fact remains that it is isolated on the periphery both physically atop the Schwäbisch Alb, but also in the awareness of the public in the surrounding area. The absence of historical remainders of the past, in the form of buildings or artefacts, reflects on the prevailing notion of erasure or forgetting that was dominant in West Germany in the 1960s. The

133“The memorial site homes to become a contact and service point as well as inquiry office for surviving dependants, relative, and descendants of the “Euthanasia” victims (as well as the perpetrators).” [my translation]

89 delayed addition of memorial signs and official commemorative practices on site was perhaps done with the public excuse of the intention to avoid emotional distress to the current residents of the site, but it is also in keeping with the political trends of that time. Grafeneck follows the model for Holocaust memorialization in West Germany in that much of the public memory work experienced a surge after reunification, and more explicitly after the mid 1990s. It remains a place of historical learning, without emotional attachments to concrete relics of the past. Here the material is presented without an onslaught of emotion, as a way of fulfilling the needs to take on culpability. What is lacking, however, is the intrinsic value to engage with debates about current treatment of people with disabilities in Germany, and the potential negative aspects of .

B. Pirna-Sonnenstein

“Sonnenstein als ”134

“Eine Art Massentourismus ist nicht wünschenswert, der Sonnenstein darf nicht unter die Gesamtüberschrift Euthanasie geraten” Pirna Mayor Bohrig, 1997135

With a population of approximately 40,000 people, the small city of Pirna, in the province of , is located at the “gate” to the picturesque Säschische Schweiz region, and is only 27 kilometres Figure 16 - Pirna-Sonnenstein entrance southeast of Dresden136. Founded in the Middle Ages, Pirna is a

134 “Sonnenstein as a stumbling block” [my translation] However, Stolperstein may also refer to the Stolpersteine project designed by artist Gunter Demnig which features brass street “cobblestones” throughout Europe. As of July 3, 2013, there are 40,000 Stolpersteine installed. 135 “A form of mass tourism is not desirable. Sonnestein should not fall under the over-all heading of euthanasia” [my translation] 136 is the location of Germany’s famous Hygiene Museum, which was popular for its exhibits on eugenics. It was also the location of the 1947 judicial process for doctors.

90 historical destination popular with hikers and tourists from surrounding regions in Germany and

Poland. Towering above the city is a large embankment, upon which the Pirna-Sonnenstein castle is prominently visible. The castle, which dates back to the 11th century, was a symbol of technological advances in medicine and psychiatry, and an image that was prominently featured on Pirna postcards and promotional material prior to WWII137. Today when one follows the

Heike Ponwitz created memorial signs138 leading from the train station through the old town centre and walks up the steep incline to the grounds of the castle and surrounding outbuildings, one is struck by an area which has fallen into a state disarray and disorder. Although some modern and restored buildings, such as the regional government office, do exist on these lands, broken-out windows and fallen structures abound. A church stands prominently in the centre of the Schlosspark [castle park]. Its stained glass windows broken and ornate doors boarded shut.

After walking past these architectural ruins, one reaches the Pirna-Sonnenstein Aktion T4 euthanasia memorial site and AWO Werkstatt [workshop]139. Approaching from the opposite direction, the visitor must pass by the vestiges of the Adolf-Hitler-Schule which stand abandoned to the east. The collection of deserted and dismantled buildings creates a sense of unease and abandonment. The feeling of absence raises questions for the visitor: for what purpose were these buildings used? What is their significance, especially in connection with the events that took place on this hill during National Socialist control140? What is happening now and what

137 As one of the first institutes of its kind, Pirna-Sonnenstein castle was a considered to be a positive feature in the town and a place of pride, and was thereby notably featured on postcards dating back to the late 1800s. At the time of my visit in 2009, no postcard included the image of the castle. 138 See Chapter 3 for further information and analysis. 139 Formed in 1919, the Arbeiterwohlfahrt (AWO) is a German organization that provides social assistance and support to over 145,000 people. Their main priority is to aid people with disabilities and seniors. 140 Other than a white address number, the deserted buildings are unmarked. Their close proximity to the memorial complex leads the visitor to question their significance in relation to the euthanasia actions. The viewer may falsely infer the historical relevance of the buildings. Although they were not used in the euthanasia killings, one might assume that they could have been outbuildings for the Adolf-Hitler-Schule. If the physical structures are a beacon

91 will become of these forgotten and unmarked buildings so close to the city of Pirna? The plateau area surrounding the Aktion T4 memorial site is in parts eerily deserted, and appears uncared for.

One can thereby draw a strong connection between the abandoned and deserted buildings and the general state of memorialization practices in Pirna. The physical void and absence is mirrored in the memorialization practices. Due to the memory politics of the East German government, which emphasized resistance to the Nazi regime and the commemoration of political victims over other victim groups, the topic of the euthanasia murders and memorialization thereof was not a prominent topic in public discourse until recent years. The grounds surrounding the euthanasia memorial complex are thereby symbolic of a forgotten past and a victim group cast to the margins in Pirna, and East Germany.

i. An Abandoned History: Memorialization at Pirna-Sonnenstein

The Sonnenstein castle became the “Königlich Sächsische Heil- und Verpflegungsanstalt

Sonnenstein” on July 8, 1811, and was the first state psychiatric centre in Germany. The institute became famous for the progressive treatment of patients with mental disabilities, and it grew steadily in prestige and gained acknowledgement for the care of its patients. After the enforcement of the “Gesetz zur Verhütung erbkranken Nachwuchses” in 1933, 116 Pirna patients were forcibly sterilized between 1936 and 1939 (Böhm 50)141. After 1928, Sonnenstein had been under the control of the director Professor Hermann , who was a great supporter of

Binding and Hoche’s ideas of forced sterilization and euthanasia (Böhm 57). After Hitler’s election, the atmosphere in Sonnenstein changed drastically, with reductions for care and therapy, especially for those deemed incurable. Tours for students and interested parties were on memory, it can be confusing as to what is worthy of investigation and contemplation. It creates an unwarranted overload of memory that is not actually to be associated with Aktion T4 memorialization. 141 Further numbers of 286 patients in 1934 and 125 patients in 1935 were given for all of Pirna hospitals in these years. It is estimated that most of these patients came from Sonnenstein (ibid).

92 invited to Sonnenstein to see firsthand examples of those deemed unworthy of life. The psychiatric institute at Sonnenstein was dissolved on October 9, 1939 by orders of the Saxon

Interior Minister (ibid). The decision to use Sonnenstein as one of the six euthanasia killing centres was made in early 1940, and the first transport of ten men arrived on June 28, 1940 for gassing.

The gas chamber and intake rooms were not installed in the Sonnenstein castle proper, but rather in one of the large surrounding buildings, Haus C 16. The house offered limited visual protection from the Elbe river valley to the north142, but had high walls surrounding the building which hid the ground floors from view. The forested area between the wall and the

Elbe River did serve a purpose for the building, as the Elbhang was used to unceremoniously dump the ashes from the cremation ovens. 13,720 patients ranging from 2 to 86 years of age from over 25 institutions in Saxony and surrounding regions were transported to Pirna where they were murdered. Similar to other Aktion T4 killing centres, the murders continued in the form of the 14f13 category, where an additional 1,031 inmates from Auschwitz, Buchenwald, and Sachsenhausen were murdered. While the act of euthanasia using gas chambers ceased in

1941, the second wave of child euthanasia using overdosing of prescriptions and the withholding of nourishment continued in the Pirna region. In 1942 and 1943 over 39 full and part-time employees of the Pirna-Sonnenstein euthanasia centre were transferred to Belzac, Sobibor and

Treblinka as part of “Aktion Reinhard”. This transfer of intelligence further points towards

“monstrous gesteigerte Kopien der “Euthanasie-Anstalten””143 (Böhm 111), and demonstrates

142 It has been documented that residents were able to see the smoke rising from the chimney from the houses below the embankment. 143 “monstrously increased copies of the euthanasia institutions” [my translation]

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that Sonnenstein played an important role in the development and carrying out of National

Socialist murders.

Once the Nazis ceased Aktion T4 gassings at this site, the cremation oven and fixtures in

the gas chambers were removed, and the building was left abandoned until the end of the war. In

the summer of 1945 Haus C16 was used to house displaced German citizens, and was utilized as

such until February 1946. From March 1946 until July 1949 the building became a lazaret for

soldiers who had been held captive after the war. After this time the site was used as a residence

for a police school, and in 1951 it was used by the illegal “Einheit Zeithain” army. Due to the

political and military commandeering of the site, it was not conducive for proper

memorialization practices. One of the largest physical factors which thwarted the

memorialization at Sonnenstein was that a factory and administrative offices for the “VEB

Entwicklugsbau” aeronautical industry occupied the building from 1953 until 1990. Due to the

highly secretive and confidential nature of the materials built on site, the general public could not

enter the grounds to visit the former euthanasia site, or mourn on the grounds. The large wall

that had surrounded Haus C16 during Nazi control remained intact as a protective wall to ensure

privacy for the aviation factory. Unlike at Hartheim, where the visiting of the site was

cumbersome due to the residential aspect, at Pirna-Sonnenstein it was impossible to visit due to

security reasons at the aeronautical factory.

Memorialization initiatives at Pirna-Sonnenstein were

relatively absent until recent years. Politically driven reluctance to

memorialize certain victim groups, such as the victims of National

Socialist euthanasia programme, was commonplace in the former East

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Figure 17 - First memorial plaque (1973) outside of Sonnenstein Castle Germany. As such, the memorialization practices at Pirna-Sonnenstein were stunted. The first official memorial, a simple marble plaque144 affixed to the castle footings, was erected on

October 5, 1973 by the SED-Kreisleitung Pirna and the Komitee der anti-faschistischen

Widerstandskämpfer der DDR (Figure 17). It is important to note that in keeping with the politics of the DDR, the sign does not specifically name the perpetrators, nor does it identify that the sign memorializes handicapped victims who died as part of Aktion T4145. Stress here is on the fascist aggressors, not the disabled victims, following DDR rhetoric. This sign is, however, indicative of changes in memorialization practices that occurred because of pressure from the

“Reformpolitik” (Endlich Gedenken und lernen 13). Because of the aforementioned security restrictions, the memorial plaque was, however, not located at Haus C16, but rather relatively far away146. Although the sign did initiate and promote memorialization, its location was arbitrary.

It was not located at the euthanasia site proper, and not in the town where it would be more visible, but rather set in a potentially indiscriminate und unvisited location147. The monument on the periphery mirrors the social treatment or stigma of people with disabilities in East

Germany at that time, and this group of people not being recognized as official victims of the

National Socialists.

It was not until the formation of the memorial group in 1991 that radical changes were made to promote memorialization of Sonnenstein in Pirna. The building, now identified as Haus

144 The plaque reads: “Zum denken an die Opfer faschistischer Verbrechen verübt in der ehemaligen Heil- und Pflegeanstalt auf dem Territorium Pirna-Sonnenstein 1940-1941”. (In memory of the victims of fascist crimes committed in the former mental hospital at Pirna-Sonnenstein 1940-1941”) [my translation] The sign therefore does not name the National Socialists, nor doctors involves as the perpetrators. 145 Manukjan argues: “ “Euthanasie”-Opfer besaßen aufgrund der andauernden Außenseiterolle von behinderten Menschen in der Gesellschaft zu den “antifaschischen” Widerstandskämpfern eine Begründung für den Aufbau des Sozialismus dar.” (Manukjan 188) 146 ca. 1 km 147 My commentary on the location of this first memorial sign is intended not to diminish its importance as the first memorial, but rather to shed light on the physical evidence that the memory of Aktion T4 was cast to the periphery of society in Pirna. Its location away from the public eye is also reflective of political forces affecting the representation of Aktion T4 memorialization.

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14, remained empty for nine years after the removal of the aeronautical factory in 1990. On June

3, 1991 engaged and motivated residents of Pirna formed the “Kuratorium Gedenkstätte

Sonnenstein e.V.”148. The Saxon regional government decided in December 1992 that a memorial site and workshop for disabled persons should be built at the house. After extensive archaeological investigation and restoration, the memorial centre and workshop were opened on

June 9, 2000. The first official commemoration of the euthanasia victims occurred on

September 1, 1989. This is almost 33 years after the first commemoration service at the nearby former concentration camp of Buchenwald, which is indicative of a public reluctance to acknowledge the victims of Aktion T4.

The reunification of Germany brought about further changes to the memorilization practices. Today a memorial centre with a permanent museum, a visitor and research centre, and a memorial site occupy half of the former Haus C16 where the murders took place. Initiatives such as the memorial signs leading from the train station to the memorial centre, and a trail of brightly painted crosses in the city centre create a strong cognitive connection between the town of Pirna and the memorial at Sonnenstein. These new countermonuments ensure that the topic of

Nazi euthanasia memorialization is active and present in the city of Pirna, and they function to keep the topic relevant in the public consciousness.

The reluctance and underdevelopment of memorialization in Pirna is not dissimilar to other locations in the former East Germany. Great emphasis was placed on the communist people as the paramount victims of National Socialism, and the heroisation of communist opposition grew to the point of “Mythenbildung” [creation of myths] (Endlich Gedenken und

148 A newspaper article reports that there were only three members in the association, further signaling a reluctance of the Pirna residents to memorialize Aktion T4.

96 lernen 10). This resulted in the memorialization of National Socialist euthanasia victims becoming a marginalized category of Nazi victims in the DDR. By focusing on the anti-fascists as the paramount victims, it was not deemed important to examine the role of perpetrator in the murders committed. There was a “famous assumption that fascism was essentially a dictatorial, terrorist, and imperialist form of finance capitalism” [...] and “German Communists argued that they bore no responsibility at all for the destruction of the Weimar Republic and the rise of

Nazis” (Herf 14). Instead of acknowledging the diverse victim groups, the Communists focused on the role of the Red Army to defeat Nazism. “May 8, 1945, became the supremely Hegelian movement of modern history, one that vindicated Communist dogma with victory. The

Holocaust, a story of unmitigated disaster, did not fit into the story of victory and redemption of official antifascism” (Herf 382). In an attempt to restore honour to Germany, the collective shame of the Holocaust was marginalized from public consciousness (Endlich Gedenken und lernen 12).

The memorialization of the victims of forced sterilization and euthanasia was especially convoluted. In a 2001 article Katrin Zeiss describes the treatment of Aktion T4 victims in East

Germany:

In der DDR erhielten "Euthanasie"-Opfer und deren Angehörige niemals den offiziellen Status "Opfer des Faschismus". Sie blieben damit von finanzieller Entschädigung ausgeschlossen. Ähnlich erging es auch anderen Leidtragenden der NS-"Rassenhygiene"; Zwangssterilisierte wurden 1953 aus der offiziellen Opferliste wieder herausgestrichen. Dazu kam das organisierte Vergessen. Das Thema "Euthanasie" stand in keinem Geschichtsbuch der DDR. Die "Euthanasie"- Gedenkstätte Bernburg bei etwa, die noch im September 1989 eröffnet wurde, entstand nicht, weil SED-Funktionäre es so wollten, sondern weil sich Mitarbeiter des psychiatrischen Krankenhauses Bernburg ehrenamtlich bemüht hatten. (Zeiss 2001) 149

149 “In the DDR, euthanasia victims and their relatives never received the official status of “victims of fascism”. They therefore remained excluded from financial restitution. This was similar to other victims of Nazi Racial

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Since the victims of euthanasia did not actively fight against the Nazis, they could not be considered to be victims of fascism (Manukjan 177), and thereby their families did not qualify for reparations. Furthermore,

Behinderte gehörten im Verständnis der Gesellschaft zum Kreis der Personen, für die zumeist Angehörige vermehrte Aufwendungen leisten mussten. Nach diesem Verständnis führte der Tod von Behinderten zu keiner Verschlechterung der materiellen Situation der Hintergebliebenen. “Euthanasie”-Geschädigte konnte es nach dieser Interpretation also nicht geben. (Manukjan 178)150 The memory of Aktion T4 was also physically missing from Berlin, at the location of the former administrative offices on Tiergartenstraße. “Zentrale “Stätten der Täter” hingegen und die damit verbundenen Fragen nach Schuld und Mitverantwortung gerieten schnell in Vergessenheit und waren jahrzehntenlang aus dem öffentlichen Gedächtnis der Stadt verschwunden.” (Endlich

Gedenken und lernen 12) 151 By ignoring memorialization at the central site of terror, the government signaled that the commemoration of the Aktion T4 victims was entirely unnecessary, and outside of the accepted memorialization practices.

That is not to say that the topic of the memorialization of other National Socialist crimes was completely absent in the DDR. This is apparent through the establishment of three large memorial sites at Buchenwald, Sachsenhausen, and Ravensbrück between 1959 and 1961, and also smaller memorials in decentralized areas away from the historical events. There were also commemoration activities in prominent locations in larger cities and communities (Endlich

Hygiene programmes. Victims of forced sterilization were left off the official victims’ list in 1953. In addition there was an organized “forgetting”. The topic of “euthanasia” was not included in any history books in the DDR. The memorial site at Bernberg on the Halle, which was opened in September 1989, didn’t previously exist not because SED officials wanted it created, but because employees at the psychiatric hospital in Bernburg voluntarily strove for it.” [my translation] 150 “The handicapped belong, in terms of society’s understanding, to the circle of people for whom most often relatives had to pay increased expenditures. According to this understanding, the death of handicapped peoples did not lead to the detriment of the material situation of the bereaved. Therefore people who were wronged by the “euthanasia” programme did not exist as per this interpretation.” [my translation] 151 “Central ‘perpetrator’ sites, on the other hand, and their connection to questions of guilt and co-responsibility, quickly faded into obscurity and vanished from the city’s public memory for decades.” [my translation]

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Gedenken und lernen 10)152. This is radically different from practices in the West, where there were limited examples of commemoration activities, but albeit quite small, and only at former concentration camps. However, in contrast to the memorialization practices at other sites of terror, where large commemorative events could honour the state approved anti-fascist resistance victims, the memorialization of Nazi euthanasia and the murders at Pirna-Sonnenstein were not thrust into the forefront of memory work.

There are rather limited examples of Aktion T4 memorialization occurring in DDR society, and those that did appear are relegated to academic and medical fields. Amidst the politics of “Vergessen und Verdrängen” [forgetting and suppression] culture of the 1950s and1960s (Endlich Gedenken und lernen 11) small advances were made in the memorialization of Aktion T4. In the 1960s a history teacher at the 1st Oberschule Pirna-Sonnenstein created a working group of students called “Junge Historiker” [Young Historians], who examined the events and history at Sonnenstein (Manukjan 183). A 1969 dissertation by Kurt Nowak, entitled

“Euthanasie und Sterilisation im Dritten Reich” history, and the 1973 book “Nazimordaktion

T4”, also uncovered the history of Aktion T4, but the topic remained in the scholarly field, and was not in popular culture. Nora Manukjan argues that these are examples of private engagements to explore this aspect of Nazi history, and that in East Germany there was no elevated state interest into the clarification of the murdering of handicapped peoples (Manukjan

184). The field of medicine also investigated the history of Nazi euthanasia. In 1978, medical schools in the DDR had a required course about the in the DDR, in which a lecture titled “Die Medizin im Faschismus” was included. A 1983 conference about “Medizin

152 Memorial sites were, nevertheless, expected to maintain a direct dogmatic connection to the politics of the SED state, and to uphold the concept of the antifascist resistance fighter as the victim. (Endlich Gedenken und lernen, 11)

99 im Faschismus” further opened discourse and offered history information about Aktion T4, but only within the field of medicine.

Compared to the two other former Aktion T4 sites located in the DDR, Brandenburg and

Bernburg, the memorialization at Sonnenstein was even further delayed. An event hosted at

Brandenburg to commemorate the victims had already occurred in 1947, and a

Gedenkstättenkommission at Bernburg was formed in 1951. Both of these signal extremely early instances in Nazi euthanasia memorialization153. The topic of Nazi euthanasia somehow remained hidden from public discourse in Pirna, which is exceptional especially due to the close proximity to Dresden, and the Dresdner Ärzteprozess in 1947154. Another reason for the delay in memorialization was because of the heightened security for the military activities at the site after the war, the land was unreachable for the general public. The population of the city of

Pirna seemed to easily accept the fact that the security at the building was the major reason for the absence of a memorial plaque or memorial site (Manukjan 187). However a contradictory argument exists in that a plaque at the site would have been possible, but it was perhaps simply not desired. For the 50th anniversary of the October Revolutions, a plaque was installed at Haus

C16 for the fighter Albert Barthel, despite the fact that he had no connection to this location or to the Aktion T4 murders. From the perspective of East German discourses on the memorialization of antifascist resistance fighters, this plaque took precedence over the memory of the victims of

Nazi euthanasia.

153 A memorial plaque was officially commissioned at Brandenburg is 1962. Workers at the Institute in Bernburg began to learn of the history of their building in 1975, and in 1976 several engaged workers constructed an exhibit. The official memorial site at Bernburg opened in September 1989. 154 The Dresden Doctors’ Trials took place in the summer of 1947. (The Nuremberg Doctors’ Trials began one year earlier). In Dresden, Prof. Hermann Paul Nitsche, as well as 14 other doctors and caregivers, were put before the court in Dresden. Nitsche and three others were sentenced to death.

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A transition in memory work occurred with the reunification of Germany, and a surge in

memory work and memorialization has taken place in Pirna since that time. Although Jeffrey

Herf focuses on the Jewish Question and its memory on the “margin of concern” in East German

discourse, his research on reasons behind a lack of memorialization can also be applied to Aktion

T4 memorialization. In reference to the reunification, Herf states:

Given that the suppression of the Jewish question had been an important chapter in the consolidation of the East German dictatorship, it was fitting that the movement for democracy and political freedom in the mid- and late 1980s led to its re- emergence. In April 1990 the first democratically elected parliament in East Germany expressed remorse both for the crimes of the Nazi past and for the policies of the East German regime. (Herf 390)

While the topic of euthanasia memorialization still remains on the periphery for many residents

of Pirna at present, great strides in the form of signage have been made to make a connection

between the town and the memorial site, and foster a more interactive means to ensure that the

history of Pirna-Sonnenstein and the National Socialist murders are more known.

ii. Gedenkstätte Pirna-Sonnenstein: Gegenwart ist Vergangenheit155

Similar to other euthanasia memorial

sites, the centre at Pirna-Sonnenstein is

divided into two distinct areas; a memorial

and a museum. With very limited physical

adjustments to the original building,

Figure 18 - Pirna-Sonnenstein memorial (left), AWO Werkstatt including the installation of an elevator, the (right) building remains mainly intact. This is

155 One of the mottos of Pirna-Sonnenstein: “the present is the past”

101 especially important in the memorial area to maintain a sense of authenticity. While the house containing the memorial centre is shared with the current work shop for the mentally and physically disabled, there appears to be a strong disconnect between the two areas. Whereas the topic of “disability” is fully integrated in Schloss Hartheim156, it is totally separated at Pirna. By having the two areas completely separated, it appears to perpetuate the idea of the “other”, and continues the stigma that those with disabilities are different, and should remain segregated.

Other than the driveway, there are no common spaces for interaction between the memorial and the Werkstatt. They are connected by the same building, but yet not connected in context. The opportunity to educate the visitor about the topic of representation of disability today is thus lost.

The memorial area at Pirna-Sonnenstein is located in the basement of the house where the actual gas chamber and cremation ovens were located. The area is further subdivided into areas which can be used for memorialization and mourning, and rooms which show historical traces of what happened in them. Before one enters the historical space, the first two rooms are designed to provide “die Möglichkeit des Gedenkens, der Besinnung und des Nachdenkens” 157

(Sonnenstein exhibit). With austere concrete and whitewashed walls, a damp smell, and dimly- lit motion sensor lights, the partially subterranean area has an eerie feeling of absence, decay, and death to it. The historical archaeological traces suggest authenticity and certainty that these were the rooms where the murders took place. The authenticity evokes emotion within the visitor, as a clear relationship between the memorial and murderous events that took place here can be easily established in this environment. The purpose and striving for authenticity is stressed, as noted on a sign at the entrance to the memorial area. “Die Authentizität der Räume

156 This is done with the second floor museum on disability, as well as a shop and cafe located next door, in which people can buy items or food prepared by the residents of the current institution. 157 “The room of silence and the room dedicated to the victims provide a place for memory, reflection and meditation”. (Sonnenstein exhibit translation)

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soll für sich sprechen. Zum besseren Verständnis für den Besucher werden an drei Stellen heute

nicht mehr vorhandene wesentliche Bestandteile der Tötungsmachinerie durch Elemente aus

Stahl angedeutet: die Trennwand zur Gaskammer, die Umrisse eines Verbrennungsofens und des

Kamins”158. (Sonnenstein exhibit)

The first room accessed immediately upon entrance, the so-called Room of Silence,

contains three memorial plaques, as well as the end of a trail of painted crosses on the ground,

which began in the city below (Figure 19). Two of the plaques have been erected to memorialize

specific victims159. A third plaque was erected by the Polish government to mourn the loss of

Jewish victims brought to Sonnenstein from Auschwitz as part of 14f13, as well as mental and

physically disabled patients from institutions in German-occupied

Poland who were murdered at Sonnenstein as part of Aktion T4160.

The room also showcases painter Elfriede Lohse-Wächtler’s 1931

painting, “Aufschreiende Gruppe”. As one of the victims of Pirna-

Sonnenstein, Lohse-Wächtler’s painting embodies a visual connection

between the memorial and the victims161. This hereby functions as a

way to put an actual victim’s face to an abstract and incomprehensible

action. The Gedenkstätte has been working to collect the Figure 19 - Pirna-Sonnenstein: Memorial room and end of painted crosses

158 “The authenticity of these rooms should speak for itself. But to help visitors better understand the site, important components of the murder machinery that no long exist are suggested by steel elements at three different areas: the dividing wall to the gas chamber, an outline of an oven and an outline of the chimney” (Pirna-Sonnenstein exhibit translation) 159 The fact that there are only two victims represented by the plaques leads the visitor to question the significance of these victims. There is no reasoning as to why they received special recognition. One must therefore infer that this is a manifestation of private grief from the families in this public location. 160 It was stated on a tour with an 8th grade class that Sonnenstein played an important role in the murders in Poland and more specifically in Auschwitz, as Sonnenstein was considered to be a training ground for the “know-how and equipment” development (Tour 2009). 161 For more information about Elfriede Lohse-Wächtler’s importance as the famous face to represent the victims, please see the analysis of Adelheid Niepold’s paintings in Chapter 3.

103 names and information of those who died at Sonnenstein. Over 10,000 names have been collected. Additionally, from 2012 to 2015 there is an ongoing project to create a Gedenkbuch of the euthanasia victims in Saxony.

The second room is dedicated to the memory of the victims of

Pirna-Sonnenstein. Twenty-two sepia photographs of victims are symmetrically lined down the centre of the room facing one another

(Figure 20). As previously discussed, images are important for the visitor to better comprehend and contextualize the traumatic events.

In this room visitors are able to see the faces of twenty-two victims of Sonnenstein, and are able to make a stronger emotional Figure 20 - Pirna-Sonnenstein: Memorial area connection to the events through the victims’ images. On the back of each photo is the description of the person featured on the front side. The visitor is invited to wander through the room and read about these victims who were chosen to be featured in this room at random. One difficultly in this method of exhibiting the photos and history of the victims is that one cannot see the photo of the victims whilst reading their history. The eye is drawn to the photo directly across the room and an association is made between this written description and the visual image. However these do not match. Often one is reading about a female victim, but looking at a photo of a male. It has been previously discussed that photographs and images are important tools to establish an emotional connection to a story. While this portion of the exhibit has the potential to put create an attachment and evoke emotion, in that one is ‘putting a face to the story of a victim’, the present spatial design hinders this. However, the impact of visual images should not be overlooked, as they are an important for the visitor to better relate to the victims and gain

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further understanding about the victims’ lives through the stories included on the reverse of the

photos.

After visiting the first two more abstract memorial rooms, the visitor can then either

return upstairs to the museum, or continue through to the authentic memorial rooms. The visitor

is not required spatially to enter into the successive rooms, which contain artifactual remains

which can be arguably more emotional for the visitor. Such design allows for the visitors to be

able to mourn in the first two rooms, without being forced to confront the more traumatic areas.

One can then mourn, without evoking emotions which hinder the working through of the past.

These subsequent rooms are rich with “authenticity” in that many traces of the past can be

clearly seen. As previously mentioned, there were few artefacts to be found on site. The

authenticity of the rooms themselves, and the historical traces highlighted in the rooms serve as a

form of artefact, and this allows the visitor to make an emotional connection to the space, and

better comprehend the events that took place. Also to aid in the comprehension of the original

purpose of the rooms, informational signs, printed in both German and English describe the

history of the rooms.

The first of these authentic rooms is the former gas chamber, which now serves as

a room of mourning, and is often filled with flowers and candles (see

Figure 21, rear). The original door was removed, and a steel artistic

rendering of the original door, complete with a peep hole, stands in

place of the original door. This artistic representation of the

historical door allows for the visitor to contextualize the history,

without the spectacle of confronting the original that was used in the

105 Figure 21 - Pirna-Sonnenstein: former gas chamber gassing of the T4 victims. Space around the door installation ensures that the visitor does not experience a feeling of being confined in the room which can lead to the perceived reconstruction of the room, and thus the ineffectual working through of the past.

The following three rooms, seen in Figure 22, are the former Leichenzimmer [corpse room], Verbrennungsraum [crematoria room], and the Kaminraum [chimney room]162. In the current memorial space, the rooms are all connected through an open concept hallway, which did not originally exist, but has been created for ease of visitor travel from room to room163. Aside from small bilingual plaques which give a concise historical outline of the rooms, they are almost completely bare. The second of three rooms contains an artistic rendering of a cremation oven, which is located in the historically accurate position of one of the two former ovens.

The lighting in the rooms greatly affects the mood, and is worthy of further examination.

There are no overhead lights, and the rooms are lit by ground level florescent lights that run on a motion sensor. The lights are hidden behind the low heading units, and cannot be directly seen, but rather only the glow which they cast on the white-washed walls. The lightening is reminiscent of footlighting in theatre, which are used to “create an effect that can be variously unattractive or eerie” (Oxford Encyclopaedia of Theatre and Performance). While environmentally friendly, the motion sensors also affect the general ambience. Figure 22 - Pirna-Sonnenstein: corridor leading to the former cremation ovens in the current memorial area

162 There was an additional room, the coal cellar, which was also used during National Socialist control. It is currently sealed off and is not a part of the Pirna-Sonnenstein memorial. 163 The original bricked in doorways can be seen in the rooms. See Figure 23.

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When one first enters the room it is dark, and you have the feeling of being alone in the space.

However, as one walks through the corridor, the lights slowly flicker on, which creates a ghostly

feeling that something else is with the visitor in the rooms. While it is unclear if this eerie

feeling produced by the motion sensor lights was done with intention, the resulting effect evokes

emotion in the memorial area. The rooms are also lit by means of the windows which run the

length of the north side of the building. As the light emitted into the room is thus weather

dependant, a gloomy, overcast day would also affect the mood inside these rooms.

While the rooms are starkly devoid of any form of artefacts or extensive descriptive

signs, there is an emphasis to show authentic architectural features of the past. Originally the

lower portions of the walls were coated in a black tar to make the rooms easier to clean. In

several locations in these final three rooms the white-wash has been

removed, and the tar has been exposed (see Figure 23). Other

aspects, such as the location of the original doors (which were later

bricked over), the blood ditch, and holes for the pipes that

connected the carbon monoxide to the gas chamber have all been

displayed164. Historical and archaeological investigation continues

to the present. As of my visit in April 2009 a recent uncovering of

the cremation oven foundation was been used to determine the

165 Figure 23 - Pirna-Sonnenstein: architectural remainders exact location of the second oven .

While the sense of authenticity can be pedagogically productive to establish a contextual

link to the past, the impetus to (re)create a sense of authenticity at Sonnenstein may cause some

164 The historical aspects highlighted in each room are described on the bilingual sign featured in the room. 165 A rudimentary, and presumably temporary, plywood sheet covered the hole during my 2009 visit.

107 false associations for the visitors. Since the “traces” of the past are so prominently included in plaques in the final three rooms, the visitor can erroneously assume that everything in the rooms is historically accurate. The floor in the former gas chamber is severely pock-marked from the removal of the factory floor used during the time of the aeronautical factory. During both tours of 2007 and 2009, it was stated that there are often misconceptions about the current state of the floor, in that many people falsely assume that the floor was damaged by Aktion T4 victims when they were trapped in the gas chamber. In reality the floor was damaged when the most recent floor was removed to unveil the original floor166. Another example is the hooks that are drilled into the ceiling of the chimney room might be falsely misconstrued as used during the period of

Aktion T4 to torture or hang people167. Without further descriptions, the visitor might come away with a false historical impression. This runs the danger of creating spectacle in the viewing experience as history can be erroneously perceived.

Perhaps the strongest questioning of the notion of authenticity is the small bone remnant which is embedded into the floor of one of the memorial rooms. While there is no sign showing the location of bone or further information about it, it was mentioned during a 2009 tour I attended with a Grade 8 class, and the students were invited to touch the bone168. As the only authentic “artefact” in the room, it draws a strong connection between the events of the past and memorial. However, it is my belief that this is not a morally adequate means of preserving a part of human remains, and Sonnenstein must re-examine the current method of exhibition. The viewing of a human bone out of context of a ceremonial burial or traditional glass vitrine evokes

166 It was important that the state of the floors was clarified during the tour, as it was unclear without additional signage. 167 In reality they are remnant from the factory use. 168 Students were most enthralled with being able to touch the bone, and became very excited to do so. As there is no signage for the bone, it could be easily unnoticed by the general visitor, and perhaps this is something that is only included by this one tour guide, or as sometime said to younger visitors.

108 a sense of voyeurism or spectacle which scholars have argued is unproductive for working through the trauma. It sensationalizes the death of these victims, and perpetuates the idea that they were unworthy of a proper burial169.

Although the memorial space is the first area the visitor encounters upon entering the house, the windowless door off the lobby is not an inviting space (Figure

24). The entrance to the area could be mistaken for a closet, save for small white lettering labelling which quietly identifies the door as the entrance to the memorial area. The small white text of “Gedenkbereich”

[memorial area] is the same size as the more visible black lettering asking visitors not to smoke. Visually it appears as if the request to not smoke is more dominant than inviting visitors to enter the memorial area. This type of windowless door is not uncommon in Germany, but it is Figure 24 - Pirna-Sonnenstein: entrance to the memorial area not inviting for a visitor to open and walk through. As the typeface is so inconspicuous, it is easy for a visitor to simply overlook the door, and pass by without further thought. This is in keeping with the trend of providing the necessary memorial space, but without overtly announcing its presence. Unlike at Grafeneck, with the large windows and open air memorial spaces, and at Schloss Hartheim, with the glass doors leading to the memorial space, there is a reduced transparency at Pirna-Sonnenstein. The past remains hidden behind a solid door.

169 There are many reports that the ashes of victims at Sonnenstein were simply thrown over the embankment to the rear of the house. The state of this current human bone is that it has not been properly excavated, and it now has become a voyeuristic part of school tours.

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The museum space at Sonnenstein is located in the attic of the building (Figure 25). The one-room exhibit is remarkably small, but does provide historical information about the history of

Sonnenstein and mental health in Germany prior to

Nazi control, Aktion T4 and the murders at Figure 25 - Pirna-Sonnenstein: museum room, left rear – steel frame of the chimney Sonnenstein, the second wave of child euthanasia, and finally information about post-war history of those involved with committing the euthanasia.

There is little included about examining the history of memorialization at the site, which is relegated to one panel at the end of the exhibit. The exhibit is quite primitive, mainly made up of modern printed back-lit signs. The exhibit space is rich in text panels, and photographs. In terms of audio-visual components, there is one TV, which was not running during my visits in

2007 and 2009, and 5 audio centres, consisting of two telephones which could be used to hear a recorded interview or historical information. There is some empty wall space in the museum which suggests that further information might be added to the permanent exhibit. At the far corner of the room, there is a visual connection between the museum and the memorial three floors below with an abstract rendering of the cremation chimney which would have run through the corner of this room during Aktion T4. The accompanying text panel draws attention to the fact that people in Pirna would have been able to see the “deutlich sichbar” [obviously apparent] chimney stack, and the visitor can then infer that people in the area would have been aware of

110 what was happening at Sonnenstein during this time. Adjacent to the main museum room is a secondary space which can host a temporary exhibit170.

The content of the museum exhibit attempts to cover a wide breadth of information. The thrust of the exhibit is to provide historical information, ranging from the early advances at

Sonnenstein in the field of medicine, the history from 1933 to 1939, the time of Aktion T4, and a brief panel about the resulting trials. Similar to Grafeneck, there is little room for emotional reaction in the museum space, as the presentation of history is the dominant aspect171. The exhibit does include information about two victims. One biography and photo in a text panel, and one history in an audio recording which people can listen to privately. Two perpetrators are also explicitly mentioned. However, for the most part those involved remain unnamed172. The exhibit mentions that some parents supported the programme through the questionnaires, and that some people reacted against Aktion T4173. The exhibit is very clear in stating that of the 100 people who were involved in the actual gassing, “nur wenige waren fanatische

Nationalsozialisten” (Sonnenstein exhibit). By drawing attention to this fact, the text is implicitly stating that many involved with the program were victims themselves by being swept up in the action. The text also never states that many involved were from Pirna. This allows for a certain distancing of the perpetrator, in that it could have been anyone from anywhere who were involved in these killings.

170 During my visit in 2007 a local school group displayed information about certain victims that died in Sonnenstein. In 2009, an exhibit about the nearby Adolf-Hitler-Schule Sachsen was displayed. 171 Emotional reaction is thus reserved for the memorial spaces. 172 Only the Schreibtischtäter Nitsche and Fernholz are named. 173 This section of the exhibit is especially hard to read as the text panels are hidden behind a glass wall etched with additional information. One thereby has the perception that some people did react against Aktion T4, but their history is not important.

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The museum exhibit material at Sonnenstein is presented solely in German. Small

pamphlets are available in English, Polish, and Czech, but they contain only rudimentary

information about the memorial site. The exhibit is therefore not favourable for the international

visitor174. The space is however, inviting to people with disabilities. An elevator is available to

aide in bringing visitors with

physical disabilities, which is a

gesture which ensures a barrier-free

entrance to those with impairments.

Pirna-Sonnenstein receives a wide

variety of visitors each year. In our

interview, director Dr. Böhm stated Figure 26: Directional signs in Pirna, city centre that the majority of visitors fall in Figure 26 - Pirna street signs indicating Pirna-Sonnenstein memorial site the following categories: school pupils from grades 8 to 12, church groups, caregivers for the

sick and elderly, speech therapists, medicine students in their third year of medical school,

middle-aged to senior visitors, “bicycle” tourists, and history students. The number of visitors is

growing each year175.

iii. Current Trends in Memorialization at Pirna-Sonnenstein and in the city of Pirna

If the consensus previously was that the topic of National Socialist euthanasia was all but

absent in the public consciousness in Pirna until 1990 (Böhm 123), then radical changes have

been made to ensure that the topic has not been overlooked any longer. Because of the close

174 In our interview, Dr. Böhm stated that most amount of the visitors to Sonnenstein come from Germany, followed by Poland, where “most understand German” as well. There seems to be very few international visitors, nor does there seem to be any plans to have the museum texts translated into English. 175 Two Pirna newspaper articles stated the visitor count in 2008 was 7,387 visitors.

112 proximity of the memorial centre to the city of Pirna176, this memorial site differs from the others in that there is a stronger potential awareness and connection between the city and the memorial site. The ease of travel between the city and the memorial centre inherently encourages more visitors. An effort has been made to ensure that the memorial site is featured prominently in

Pirna material177. Throughout the city, signposts feature recognized tourist attractions and the memorial site is included on these signs (see Figure 26). Although the memorial site,

Gedenkstätte, is included on the sign, it is not named as “Pirna-Sonnenstein”. One must have prior knowledge that the euthanasia memorial site exists to decipher the meaning of the sign.

One could argue that the gesture has been made to include the site, but the actual step of naming it has not been made. The other ‘attractions’ on the site, train station, city museum, toilets, are self explanatory. The memorial site, on the other hand, needs further explanation. The first photo included makes mention of the castle and surrounding parklands, but does not mention the memorial centre. The Pirna city map also includes the memorial site. A city tour was established in 2008 to specifically visit the memorial centre at Sonnenstein, and discuss the history of National Socialist euthanasia in Pirna. The tours, which ran only in the summer months to attract more tourists, were not well attended and had a good reception amongst the visitors to Pirna178. One could argue that the Gedenkstätte has a presence in Pirna society, but there still remains a reluctance on behalf of the population to engage with the topic of the memorialization of Aktion T4 victims.

176 See Appendix A for map. 177 This has changed drastically. A 1997 FAZ newspaper article was critical for the fact that the memorial site was absent from Pirna tourist material. Today the memorial in included on one map, but not on the other, which curiously does include the abandoned church in the Schlosspark. The fact that the map includes the abandoned church but not the active memorial site speaks volume for the willingness to accept the space as a proper location warranted of being visited. 178 During my April 2009 visit to Pirna, I attended the first tour to the 2009 season. The tour offered much of the same information provided at the school tour whilst at the memorial site. My tour included myself and an elderly woman, as well as one tour guide, and three assistants. Upon questioning, I was told that tours are larger during the warmer months. A newspaper article reports that there were only three visitors for the first tour in 2008.

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There is also a strong visual connection between the city of Pirna and the memorial site.

There are two marked pathway initiatives that lead from Pirna’s city centre to the memorial site at

Sonnenstein179. With limited signage, these trails generate a sense of intrigue, and thus awareness about the memorial site. The two initiatives, the memorial signs and painted crosses, are two strategies that may be regarded as countermonuments

as they foster interaction, and actively ‘lead’ the Figure 27 - Pirna-Sonnenstein: end of painted crosses visitor to the site. Both projects have received been generally received positively in the community180, and considered to be pedagogical endeavours (Böhm, 2009 interview).

The Gedenkspur project, conceived by the Aktion Sühnezeichen Friedensdienste organization, is a series of small, brightly painted crosses that wind their way through some city streets and lead the visitor to the memorial site above the city. The project, which was initiated in 2006, is an initiative undertaken by youth organizations. Each cross painted on the ground symbolizes a life lost at Pirna-Sonnenstein through the Aktion T4 and 14f13 actions.

This Gedenkspur is a monument in transition. The paint will not remain on the pavement permanently, and thus continual effort must be made to preserve the paint and repair and replace when necessary. This habitual aspect of renewing the paint ensures that the memory and

179 See Chapter 3 for further discussion on the memorial signs in Pirna. 180 In a 2009 interview with Dr. Böhm, he mentioned that some older members of Pirna felt that the signs were slanderous to the virtuous reputation of the painter Canaletto. The 2009 tour guide also mentioned that there had been protests against putting the signs in the “pretty” Altstadt. However, there is no official mention of the protests in the Pirna newspapers.

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significance behind each painted cross is kept alive and active in the public’s consciousness.

Böhm states that “Erinnerung muss immer wieder erwacht worden”181, which is more effective

in preserving the memory of the Aktion T4 victims that a static monument. Similar to a grave,

the crosses require a different form of “Grabpflege” (Jantke). The Gedenkspur requires an

ongoing care in order for it to be effective, or it will simply

disappear from sight due to environmental conditions such as

rain and snow. While the project proposes an active approach to

memorialization, it is not to say that the project is not without its

problems. What is curious at first about the crosses, is that

depending on time elapsed since the last painting of the crosses,

it can be easy to overlook the faded symbols, or they can be

Figure 28 - Pirna street: painted crosses completely eroded without ongoing preservation. As there is no leading into Sonnenstein castle base initial sign to inform the visitor of their meaning, the significance

of the crosses might be overlooked, or confused with another meaning182. There are two signs

which inform the visitor as to the crosses’ meaning. One is located at the entrance to the Pirna-

Sonnenstein memorial centre (see Figure 26), and one is located slightly hidden at the base of the

hill leading up to the castle. For the full impact of the Gedenkspur to be known to the viewer, a

secondary piece of information is needed in order to decipher the crosses’ true meaning.

Involvement in the Gedenkspur project is voluntary, and has received a lot of attention in

the media in Pirna. Repainting the crosses will most certainly bring further attention to the topic,

and thus ensuring that the topic is active in the public’s consciousness. Along with painting the

181 “Memory must continually be revived” [my translation] 182 At one section the crosses are located very close to the St.Marien church. This close proximity to the church could be confusion to the viewer as they might associate the symbols to an event at the church.

115 crosses, the project consists of a two week long summer camp, with youth from Germany,

Hungary, Russia, , the Czech Republic and Poland. The youth live at the AWO work centre and attend seminars and social projects. The projects functions as a pedagogical toll as it is bringing attention to the topic of disabilities today for the young students, whilst at the same time memorializing a topic in hope that it should never happen again. As this event is connected to the Gedenkstätte, it satisfies the desire for the museum to engage with the public, and engage in ongoing .

Although the memorial site receives significant attention in the media in Pirna183, the idea of the “taboo zone”, both as a military closed off area, and as a marginalized victim group, is still residual from the DDR time. The city did not originally want to fund the memorial site (Funk), and it was thought that the

AWO workshop would be enough of a “living” Figure 29 - Pirna-Sonnenstein: view from museum elevator to AWO Werkstatt memorial, without a museum and memorial area.

Controversy also surrounded the workshop. When it was decided to build the workshop, no suitable location could be found184. They decided on Haus 14, but it has been said that they did not realize that this is where the Aktion T4 murders took place. Newspaper articles written before and during the renovation of the current building expressed scepticism about the close proximity between the workshop and memorial. Those in favour of the adjacent locations argued that the idea was that closeness should foster a positive environment and a better

183 There are many articles about readings, exhibits, cultural events, and tours in the local newspapers inviting the community to attend. 184 This is indicative of problems of memorialization of Aktion T4, but also a desire to locate the institution further away from the town centre, and towards the periphery.

116 opportunity to explore the past and present together. AWO director Martin Wallmann recognized that it is difficult to coordinate a visit for those with disabilities to the memorial site.

He says: “Es ist schwer, das den Behinderten rüberzubringen, ohne sie zu verletzen oder

Probleme aufzurütteln, die nicht da sind”185. (“Sonnenstein als Stolperstein”). Wallermann does, however see a positive aspect to the nearness of the two sites in that he can draw a connection between the events of the past, and the emotions of the parents of the disabled. “Alle Eltern von behinderten Kindern haben sich vielleicht irgendwann mal gewünscht, dass ihr Kind nicht da wäre, das muss man verstehen”186 (ibid). The proximity is therefore a reflection of the good and evil in society187. Wallermann’s statement about complex theme about parents not wanting a handicapped child relates to current themes in medicine about ‘designer children’, and aborting ones with disabilities. As such, the close proximity between the workshop and the memorial centre promotes the questioning of this topic, but the lack of connectivity between the sites does not foster a more favourable location for interaction. A café or store, such as at Hartheim or

Grafeneck, allows for a more casual contact, instead of the voyeuristic separation which is perceptible at Sonnenstein.

The peripheral location of the memorial site on top of the hill beyond the city perpetuates the notion of it being present, but only barely. The memorial centre is, of course, physically present in the city of Pirna, but the memorialization, or desired lack thereof, is indicative of an ongoing reluctance to accept the memorialization of Aktion T4. The memorial site is so close to

185 “It is difficult to bring people with disabilities over [to the memorial centre], without hurting them or stirring up problems, that aren’t already there” [my translation] 186 “All parents of children with disabilities have at one time wished their child wasn’t there. That one has to understand” [my translation] 187 Although there has been damage done to the memorial signs in the city, and one police report of five and two SS symbols being painted at Sonnenstein, there has been relatively little graffiti for the memorial centre. During my 2009 visit however, the AWO sign was graffitied with an obscenity. This is potentially indicative of an ongoing problem in society for the acceptance of those with disabilities.

117 the city, and yet so removed from the public consciousness. The site continues to foster relations with the surrounding community. Sonnenstein participates in the annual “Tag des Offenen

Denkmals” [Day of Open Memorials] in Pirna and has increased opening hours on Saturday.

Perhaps most encouraging is that in 2010 Pirna hosted the “Denkmal der grauen Busse” monument for one year188. The Gedenkstätte continues to be active in providing lectures, continuing the travelling exhibit, and updating their website to provide virtual information on the reception of disability in society today.

C. Schloss Hartheim

“Schloss Hartheim ist ein historischer Ort, ein Gedächtnisort, mit einer authentischen Möglichkeit der Erinnerung und der individuellen wie wissenschaftlichen Auseinandersetzung mit der eigenen und der gesellschaftlichen Geschichte.” (Reese and Kepplinger, 546)189

Figure 30 - Schloss Hartheim Located to the small town of , 14 kilometres south-west of , the grand white baroque castle of Schloss Hartheim stands out amongst the fields of this small Upper Austrian village. But the brightly painted inner arcade and tranquil surroundings mask a violent and often forgotten part of Nazi history in Austria. While the memorialization practices of the history of the murderous events at this location have been previously underdeveloped, the present memorial site offers a unique opportunity for the learning and memorialization of the Aktion T4 and 14f13 victims who lost their lives in the only

188 For more information about this movable monument, please see Chapter 3. 189 “Schloss Hartheim is a historic site, and a memorial site with an authentic possibility of remembrance and an individual, as well as scientific, examination of one’s own and society’s own history.” [my translation]

118 killing centre located outside of Germany proper. Today the “Lern- und Gedenkort Schloss

Hartheim” offers two distinctive museums, extensive pedagogical lesson plans, and a large memorial site. The representation of the Aktion T4 victims from this site and the memorialization history at Hartheim were vastly affected by the Austrian government and society, and offers a differing and unique history in comparison to the aforementioned sites. It is a site that has experienced a extreme reluctance to engage in memorialization practices, which is in indicative of a reluctance to atone, accept, and acknowledge the National Socialist past in this

Austrian community.

i. Memorialization at Hartheim: Ein Zeitzeuge in

Vergessenheit

Built in 1600, the Hartheim castle served as

“ein Asyl den armen Schwach- und Blödsinnigen,

Idioten und Cretinösen”190 as of May 24, 1898. In

1901, and again in 1908, there was expansion of the

Figure 31 – Schloss Hartheim: interior of the arcade space, asylum to accommodate a growing number of metal memorial installation in the background patients. Central heating and running water, along with cages on the windows, were installed.

The institution continued to expand in the number of patients, and also offered programs such as an employment training school. The amenities of water and heating available at this institution, as well as the remote location accessible via rail, would have made Schloss Hartheim a promising choice as one of the six killing centres for Aktion T4, and in March of 1940 the east side of the ground floor was outfitted with a gas chamber. Between May 1940 and August 1941,

190 This language is in keeping with the vernacular of medical model of disability theory. The now pejorative words are no longer associated with the institution today.

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18, 269 patients from over 100 institutions in the Ostmark were murdered at Hartheim

(Kepplinger 86)191. The building was also used as part of the 14f13 initiative. In 1948, the building and lands were returned to the OÖ Landes-Wohltätigkeitsverein, who had controlled the institution until 1939, and a home for disabled children was reinstated at this time. After the war, the castle was also used to house Displaced Persons, American military, and people from the community of Alkoven, the surrounding village, who lost their homes due to flooding. This unconventional use of the building contributed to difficulties in memorialization, as will be discussed later in this chapter.

In following the argument of James Young that a monument can be considered to be a reflection of state ideologies, then this is especially true at Schloss Hartheim. The memorialization processes, or at times a lack thereof, can be traced back to political and societal changes that are distinctive to Austria. What is especially unique to the memorialization process at Hartheim is that the impetus for the initial memorial came from outside forces, and not from within192. This fact is significant as it is indicative of an unwillingness from the community in

Alkoven to acknowledge and remember this specific history. The first memorialization impetus came in 1950 with the erection of a French monument. However, this was explicitly for the

14f13 victims and it did not make reference to the Aktion T4 victims193. As years progressed, individual initiatives from families of French and Italian victims, mainly those who had been

191 Due to Hartheim’s relative proximity to the concentration camp Mauthausen, Gusen, and Dachau, the murders in Hartheim did not cease in 1941, but rather the killings under the code 14f13 continued through 1944. In comparison to the detailed recording of patients in the Hartheimer Statistik, centralized progress reports on the number of deaths at all six centres, the actual number of 14f13 deaths is still unknown. It is estimated over 8000 victims died at Hartheim (Schwanninger 202) 192 In my April 6, 2009 interview with Hartheim director Mag. Irene Leitner, she stressed that the impulse for a memorial came from outside groups, such as the French, and not from within the Alkoven or Austrian communities. 193 The first memorial of 1950 read: “Honneur aux Francais victims de la barberie Nazie morts á Hartheim pour la France et la liberté du monde. Zehntausende Freiheitskämpfer wurden von den Nazi in das Vernichtungslager Schloss Hartheim verschleppt. Keiner verlieβ es lebend.” (”Honour to the french victims of the barbaric Nazi killings in Hartheim for France and for world liberty. Tens of thousands of freedom fighters were deported to the extermination site Hartheim by the Nazis. No one left (there) alive.” [my translation])

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interred at Dachau and Mauthausen concentration camps, installed plaques at Hartheim.

Eventually plaques (see Figure 32) were also erected to commemorate euthanasia victims, but

the staggering fact that only 3 of the 39 plaques that are located in the arcade mention Aktion T4

is indicative of a large discrepancy in memorialization194. Also these plaques identified and

memorialized a single person, much like a tombstone, and did not point towards the larger

catastrophe of Aktion T4. Thereby, if a family of a T4 victim wished to acknowledge and

commemorate their lost family member, they would have to arrange for their own plaque to be

installed for the one victim. At this time, there were no official Austrian, or Upper Austrian,

governmentally sanctioned memorials in place. This speaks volumes to the fact that the history

of Nazi euthanasia was not being recognized in Austrian society, but rather it was done at the

individual or private realm. This is also similar to other

forms of representation of Aktion T4 victims, such as

literature, in that memory work was being conducted at the

private level, and not on a larger scale within the greater

Figure 32 - Schloss Hartheim: memorial plaques on the public community. walls of the arcade

Due to increased pressure for remembrance, the year 1969 marked a change in

memorialization practices at Hartheim. This year welcomed the first Gedenkfeier

[commemoration] at Hartheim, in conjunction with those at Mauthausen195, as well as the

creation of a Gedenksraum [contemplation room] and several plaques on the main floor of the

194 In her chapter “Gedenkstätte für die Opfer der NS-Euthanasie in Österreich” Brigitte Kepplinger identifies the difficulty for the view to fully digest what is being presented and memorialized, and how it could in fact cause confusion for the viewer. The plaques lead one to question the purpose of the plaques, and why are there so many 14f13 victims being memorialized in an area which is to be a memorial for the euthanasia victims. 195 Until the late 1990s, Hartheim was generally considered to be a Nebenlager [sub-camp], of the nearby concentration camp Mauthausen. This diminished the importance of Hartheim, as it was not identified as one of the six Aktion T4 killing centres, and thus the memorialization of the T4 victims was severely lacking. The importance of the subordinating of Hartheim and the effects on memorialization in general will be discussed later in this chapter.

121 castle. The former intake room and gas chamber were planned to become a memorial to the euthanasia victims196. The artists Helmut Berger and Rudolf Kolbitsch, both personally affected with disabilities197, created works in these rooms, both with highly religious undertones. The space became then very much like a church, with the reoccurring motif that this was a place to remember a “Tat der Sünde” [act of evil]198. While the plaque in the larger of the two memorial rooms did make explicit mention of the 200 mentally and physically disabled victims who had originally resided at Hartheim199, the two additional plaques clearly pointed towards an unspoken hierarchy of victims. The plaque in the former gas chamber spoke merely of “innocent people” when referring to the Aktion T4 victims, but explicitly gives the year and number of victims from Dachau concentration camp200. It then raises the question of who where the ‘innocent people’, as it does not adequately acknowledge the euthanasia victims, and the plaque glosses over the significance of the memorialized group. Since the text could in essence refer to any innocent victim of the Third Reich, it can thereby not be considered to be directly commemorating the Aktion T4 victims. As such, these victims have been overlooked in favour of memorializing another group. Owing to the fact that the plaque has been donated by a group

196 While it gave the appearance of a public memorial, it must be noted that these memorial rooms were not easily accessible, as they were often locked and visitors had to obtain a key which was not always possible (Reese 52). Also of note is that in contrast to the post 1995 memorialization practices, there was no emphasis to preserve the “authentic” or traces of the past. These were simply memorial rooms with no visible connection to the events. (Reese and Kepplinger 530). 197 This is a reoccurring trend in art and memorials for Aktion T4, in that the artist has been personally affected by disability in some way. Berger, born in 1925, suffered meningitis [Gehirnhautentzündung] in 1939 and became deaf. Kolbitsch, born in 1922, lost the use of his left arm on the Eastern Front. (Kepplinger 567) 198 This term is used at several occasions at Hartheim. 199 The plaque read: “Dieser Gedenkraum wurde für die 200 schwerstbehinderten Pfleglinge errichtet, die in diesem Schlosse die ersten Opfer des n.s. Vernichtungsprogrammes ,Lebensunwertes Leben’ waren. Das Behindertinstitut Hartheim für Geistig- und Mehrfachbehinderte ist die lebende Sühnestätte für alle Opfer im Schloβ Hartheim. R.I.P” (“This memorial chamber was constructed for the 200 severely handicapped fosterlings, who were the first victims at this castle of the N.S. extermination program “Lives unworthy of life”. The Hartheim Institution for the mentally and multi-handicapped is the living expiatory site for all victims in the Hartheim castle. R.I.P“ [my translation]) 200 The plaque read: “Hier wurde under dem ns. Regime unschuldige Menschen, darunter 3166 Häftlinge des Konzentrationslagers Dachau, in den Jahren 1942-1944 vergast. Denkt daran!” (“Here innocent victims, including 3166 prisoners of the Dachau concentration camp, were gassed by the National Socialist regime in the years 1942- 1944. Remember!” [my translation])

122 associated with Dachau, it is clear that these victims would be explicitly mentioned. But since nowhere in the room are the Aktion T4 victims mentioned, this is a further example of the hierarchy of victims at that time in that victims from Dachau were revered with greater importance than the disabled victims of Aktion T4. Also of note is that the plaques also use the short form of “National Socialist” (n.s or ns.), and thereby do not explicitly state the perpetrator, and creates a sense of distance between the Nazis and the Austrian people, further perpetuating the image of Austrians as the first ‘victims’ of National Socialism.

The final memorial plaque explicitly mentioning Aktion T4 victims is located in the front entrance hall201 (Figure 33). The sign does acknowledge the original 200 patients of Hartheim who were murdered, but places a strange ordering of victims. Why was it necessary to specifically mention that “healthy children” were also killed? The plaque thereby seems to place greater importance on these victims, and not the 200 disabled patients. Finally, by stating that the people were killed by “fanatical National Socialists”, it suggests an enormous degree of distance between the foreign barbarianism, and the Austrian doctors, nurses and caretakers who were the ones doing the killing at this location (Kepplinger 558). The sign also does not explicitly include the politically and racially persecuted Austrians in Mauthausen, while it does include victims from other nations. Combined with the previous statement, it is further argument for the portrayal of diminished importance of Austrian involvement. As was seen in the previous

201 The first section of the plaque reads: “In den Jahren 1938-1944 wurden in diesem Hause durch fanatische Nationalsozialisten zehntausende Menschen vernichtet. Zuerest die 200 Pfleglinge des Hauses, dann Patienten aus Heilanstalten Österreichs und Deutschlands, politisch und rassisch Verfolgte - darunter auch gesunde Kinder – aus Deutschland, der CSR, Polen, UdSSR, Frankreich, Italien. Viele dieser Opfer kamen aus den KZ Mauthausen und Dachau.” (”In the years 1938-1944, tens of thousands of people were annihilated in this house by fanatic National Socialists. At first, the 200 residents of the house, then patients from sanatoriums in Austria and Germany, politically and racially persecuted (including healthy children) from Germany, Czechoslovakia, Poland, USSR, France, and Italy. Many of these victims came from the concentration camps Mauthausen and Dachau.” [my translation])

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examples of plaques, here the semantics employed places great

stress on the theme of Austrians as victims, and thus “innocent of

war crimes” (Bastel 63).

A factor which affected memorialization greatly was the use

of the Hartheim castle building after 1945. While it was Fig. 33 - Schloss Hartheim: memorial plaque at entrance initially decided that an institution for children was to be re-

established, the grounds were also used from 1946 to 1954 for Displaced Persons and American

military personnel, despite the deplorable living conditions. In 1954, the area suffered

catastrophic flooding of the Danube River, and townsfolk who had lost their homes moved into

the castle into thirty newly created apartments. This created a paradox for visitors wishing to

mourn their lost family members, in that there was the impression that life was able to effectively

‘move on’, and there was no place for remembrance in the castle. There was thereby a difficult

dichotomy of a space for living and a space to mourn the dead. Increased pressure was placed on

the residents and government in the 1960s to create a memorial site, as there was no official

place to mourn, as all areas had been used for residential purposes. It was reported that the

visitors felt uneasy when confronted with the signs of everyday life such as bedclothes hanging

over the arcade walls, children playing, and the smells of food coming from the apartments. The

residents, conversely, reacted with hostility to the “intruders” (Kepplinger 560). The creation of

the aforementioned memorial rooms on the ground floor in 1969 did ease some of the tension for

the need for memorialization. However, there was further dissonance in that the door to the

memorial rooms was often locked. This was seen as a symbolic gesture of the residents’ general

124 reluctance to accept the memorialization at the site (Reese and Kepplinger 528) 202. The residents were eventually moved into comparable housing in 1999 to make room for the new memorialization centre.

Schloss Hartheim’s bureaucratic connection to the former concentration camp

Mauthausen, located approximately 34 kilometres away, was another factor affecting memorialization. As Hartheim was the location for a large number of 14f13 killings, it was often considered to be an “Auβen-“ or “Nebenlager” [satellite camp] of Mauthausen. In terms of memorialization, the importance of Hartheim, and its significance as a central killing centre for

Aktion T4 and a ‘training ground’ for future Holocaust actions, had been greatly diminished because Hartheim was perpetually connected to Mauthausen, and not to be considered a place of historical importance on its own accord203. Initial commemorative celebrations focused solely on Mauthausen, and made only brief mention of Hartheim, as a location of 14f13 murders, and not Nazi euthanasia. Kepplinger argues that Schloss Hartheim was often merely apostrophized as a subcamp of Mauthausen, as other victim groups maintained a more superior (“ranghöreren”

Opfergruppen) standing (Kepplinger 552). The Austrian and Upper Austrian governments made no attempt to establish a national memorial at Hartheim, as it was deemed that it received enough attention as a Nebenlager, that it did not need its own memorial status204. The creation of the memorial centre at Hartheim did not mean the end of the strong connection to Mauthausen, however, as the misnomer of a “Nebenlager” was used as late as spring 2008 in the permanent

202 There was also further conflict about mourners’ reaction to the appropriation of the space. For example, the was used as a coal cellar. 203 Hartheim was bureaucratically important for the creation of the “Hartheimer Statistik”, a report which summarized the killings at all six centres. 204 As of 1969 annual commemoration events were held at Hartheim, however they were acknowledged and were connected to Liberation Day commemorations at Mauthausen. 1995, and the creation of the Verein Schloss Hartheim brought attention to the site that it was worthy of its own commemoration as a separate site of terror in the form of euthanasia murders.

125 exhibition at Mauthausen, where Hartheim is identified as a satellite camp (ibid). Here it remains that the emphasis is on the concentration camp and 14f13 victims, and not on the Nazi euthanasia victims. As such, this glossed over the importance of Hartheim as a central killing centre for Aktion T4. At present, the extensive memorial centre and pedagogical programs at

Hartheim has brought attention to Hartheim as being worthy of its own memorialization practices, separate from those at Mauthausen.

The most influential social and political factor affecting memorialization at Hartheim was the residual notion of “Opfertheorie”, the concept that the Austrian nation was in fact the “first victims” of National Socialism. The Moscow Declaration of 1943 stated that Austria was “the first free country to fall victim to Hitlerite aggression”205, and the Austrian Declaration of

Independence of 1945 furthers this notion by referring to the country as “Hitler’s first victim”

(Wüstenberg and Art 78), a concept which remained intact in Austrian politics for the following forty years (ibid).

While the country often fell back on its status as a victim of Nazi terror to exonerate itself from the deeds committed by the Austrian public, the actual historically documented support and involvement in WWII and the Holocaust, is in stark contrast to the idea of Austria as the

‘innocent bystander’. Building on long standing anti-Semitic and anti-Slavic attitudes in

Austrian society both prior to and after the annexation of Austria into the , there was great support for the Anschluss in 1938. It has been stated by historians that the Austrian public fervently supported Adolf Hitler and his party. Following the ideology of the Nazi party,

205 It is interesting to note that the Moscow Declaration also makes mention that Austria “has a responsibility for participation in the war on the side of Hitlerite Germany” (qtd. in Wüstenberg and Art 78), a statement which was often overlooked in postwar discussions.

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Hitler’s concept of creating a better racial state was greatly supported in Austria, in the hopes of

“generat[ing] a German national Austrian identity” (Bastel 61).

While the general consensus among historians is that the Austrian public readily supported the Nazi party before and during the war206, there have been drastic changes in the post war years regarding perceptions of Austria’s involvement in the Nazi party, responsibility and support during WWII, and especially in the murders of the Holocaust. In an effort to rebuild the country’s national identity and “restore national image” (Bunzl 9), the country’s involvement in WWII was frequently repressed207. Although anti-Semitic and anti-Slavic sentiments were still dominant in the collective consciousness of the Austrian people, the Holocaust was seen to be an “Operational accident” (Bastel 62), and one which was unrelated to Austrian history.

Furthermore the topic of Austrian involvement in the Holocaust was relatively absent in public discourse, and also in Holocaust education (Bastel 63, 65)208. This absence is connected to the idea as Austrians were victims of the National Socialists, and such, did not take full responsibility for their actions during the war. This concept was originally perpetuated in the memorial space at Hartheim in the initial lack of memorial erected to the victims of Aktion T4, as well as the wording of the “fanatical National Socialists” on the memorial plaques. This deflection of guilt and responsibility demonstrates a reluctance to accept involvement in the killings, and distance themselves from being a perpetrator in Aktion T4.

206 By 1942, the NSDAP counted almost 700,000 members in Austria. Bunzl notes that the number of Austrians serving in high positions in the party was “disproportionally high” [...] “with growing support” (Bunzl 9) 207 A fact quoted in Bastel is that in 1956, 46% of the Austrian public still considered themselves “German” (Bastel 61). This indicates that a complete separation from the concept of a strong German nation had not been completely severed at this time. 208 Bastel notes that until the 1980s, the topic was not an important topic in school curriculum and the ‘Austrians as victims’ theory was disseminated.

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However, one cannot say that the topic of World War II was completely nonexistent in

Austrian society. Initially there were attempts made to persecute war criminals and to “de-

Nazify” Austria, but the rebuilding of society and developments such as the Wirtschaftswunder took a dominant role in post war recovery. Social and political impetuses demanding change such as the student movement of the 1960s and Theodor W. Adorno’s 1966 speech “Education after Auschwitz” did not affect Austrian society as much as it did in the collective conscious in

Germany (Bastel 63). The foremost turning point in Holocaust discussion and reworking in

Austria occurred in 1985 with the anti-Waldheim campaign, which raised important questions about Austria’s methods of investigating and dealing with its Nazi past209. While this brought about research, investigation and dialogue surrounding the Holocaust in general, the topic of the

National Socialist euthanasia plan was still not at the forefront of discussions. In regards to the relative absence of the topic of Aktion T4 in public discourse, Brigitte Kepplinger argues, “[i]n der Hierarchie der Opfer des Nationalsozialismus hatten die Opfer der NS-Euthanasie, zusammen mit Roma und Sinti, Homosexuellen, “Asozialen” und “Kriminellen”, keinen

Platz”(Kepplinger 551)210. This is reflected in the reluctance to commemorate the euthanasia victims at Hartheim, in favour of converting the site to living spaces.

While the topic of the Holocaust, and Austrian involvement and responsibility, has become more prevalent in public discourse in recent years, the perpetuating myth that Austria was the first victim of the Nazi party helped shape the memorialization practices of Aktion T4

209 In the 1985 Austrian Presidency election, details about then Secretary-General Kurt Waldheim’s previously unknown military history, including his involvement in two NSDAP organizations, were brought to light. Waldheim denied this history, and claimed that he was a victim of slander. The resulting international investigation raised many questions about undisclosed Nazi history in Austria, and opened dialogue and public discourse about the topic of Austrian involvement in the Nazi party and responsibility in WWII. For more information see Bastel and Bunzl. 210 “In the hierarchy of victims of National Socialism, there was no place for the victims of Nazi euthanasia, together with Roma and Sinti, homosexuals, “Asocial”, and criminals.” [my translation]

128 victims after the end of the war. This is not the only unique factor affecting memorialization, especially when compared to actions within Germany. “Spared of the German fate of partition, ostracism and the burden of paying adequate reparations, Austria and its citizens were never confronted in their role in the Third Reich” (Bunzl 10). As such, the strong thrust to commemorate and create monuments and memorials was lacking. They were not publicly put to task to remember. One central commonality in the sense of a hindrance in memorialization that

Austria shares with Germany is the fact that many of the central physicians, psychiatrists, paediatricians, and medical professionals involved in Aktion T4 continued to practice medicine in Austria without repercussion211. This topic of naming those involved was thus tabooized.

“Die organisatorischen, personallen und auch inhaltlichen Kontinutäten in der Sozial- und

Gesundheitsbürokratie der Zweiten Republik waren demgemäß jahrzehntelang kein Thema der

Auseinandersetzung” (Kepplinger 551)212. Because many of those involved in Aktion T4 continued their medical careers freely without judicial or societal ramifications or being scrutinized by the courts, they were not named as perpetrators per se. There was thus a reluctance to memorialize the actions when those involved still remained prominent and respected members of the medical field in Austria.

211 For more information on this topic, see the documentary Grey Matter which highlights the history of Dr. Gross. 212 “The continuation of the organizational, personal, and content aspects in societal and health bureaucracy in Austria after 1945 was thus accordingly not a topic of examination for decades” [my translation]

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ii. Lern- und Gedenkort: History and Social Awareness at Schloss Hartheim today

In 1995, the Verein Schloss Hartheim was created and

plans began for the creation of a memorial centre at the castle

site. Since 2004, the “Lern- und Gedenkort Schloss Hartheim”,

financed by an endowment of the government of Upper

213 Austria und publicly-financed contributions [Beiträge der Figure 34 - Schloss Hartheim memorial site öffentlichen Hand], has been in place at the castle. The emphasis of

the centre, which is located on the ground and first floors of the castle, is on learning and social

awareness, as is clearly apparent in the titling of the memorial214. Upper Austrian Red Cross

President Leo Pallwein-Prettner furthers the goal of Schloss Hartheim by saying: “Zwei zentrale

Aufgaben hat die Stiftung Schloss Hartheim: Einen Ort, an dem einst die Menschenwürde mit

Füßen getreten wurde, vor dem Vergessen zu bewahren und durch

gelebte Humanität in der heutigen Arbeit eine Wiederholung

dieser Ereignisse zu verhindern” (Stiftung Schloss Hartheim

brochure)215. As part of this emphasis on learning, the Lern- und

Gedenkort Schloss Hartheim offers many educational programs

for school children and young adults216, as well as an extensive

Figure 35 - Schloss Hartheim map with Braille overlay

213 Stiftung Lern- und Gedenkort Schloss Hartheim material list the donation as 3.5 Million Euro. 214 Notice here the word “Lernort” [place of learning] comes before the “Gedenkort” [place of remembrance]. The site wishes to not only acknowledge the past events at this location, but also bring social awareness to the topic of disability. 215 “There are two central purposes at Schloss Hartheim: to safeguard against ‘forgetting’ at the place where human dignity was trampled underfoot, and to prevent a repetition of these events through living humanity in the current work” [my translation] 216 A brochure obtained at the memorial site in 2009 lists five programs for young people visiting Schloss Hartheim, each tailored to a different age group ranging from 6 – 18. A “mobile program” for children aged 12 – 16 can be sent to schools. Tours are also available for adult groups.

130 archive. The site not only offers historical information about Aktion T4, the building’s use during Nazi control, and memorialization thereafter, found within the Gedenkstätte area, but it also includes a significantly large museum on the second floor devoted to bringing social awareness to the possible difficulties of living with disabilities in Austria today, in the exhibition

“Wert des Lebens” [Value of Life]. With this dual emphasis on memorialization and learning,

Schloss Hartheim is not merely a Holocaust memorial site, but one that contextually presents the danger of history repeating itself. Without re-enacting or recreating the past, the museum and memorial space present historical architectural and artefactual elements, which allows for both an authentic visit. The inclusion of abstract art encourages contemplation.

After entering through the central arcade of the castle, the official memorial site begins in the former bus unloading dock. One must exit the castle into an outdoor enclosed area which displays authentic remnants of the past, including former foundations of an overhanging roof, as well as artistic stone renderings of the path of the bus wheels

(Figure 36). Historical aspects, in the form of a listing of the institutions which sent their patients to Hartheim, are printed on the glass doors. The steel walls of the enclosure and ‘’ wheel tracks elicit a sense of abstractness, and the area itself is devoid of information panels or artefacts which creates a feeling of Figure 36 - Schloss Hartheim: former bus entrance, absence. Due to the high metal panels, the space is confining, and current reflection space eerie with the rusted metal panels which restrict the visitor within this space, and results in a trapped feeling for the visitor. One can see out through the glass panels, and spaces between the metals slabs, but one cannot physically get beyond the walls. The space is affective in evoking an emotional response, and it recreates a sense of being trapped with only one way out through

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the castle, thus modelling the fate of the victims. This mirrors the beginning of the patients’

journey into Schloss Hartheim, and the rest of the path of the memorial leads the visitor through

the stages until their eventual death. The area also sets the pattern of a merging of the abstract

and historical traces which is continued throughout the memorial area.

Upon re-entering the castle, the visitor may explore several rooms devoted to presenting

historical information about Aktion T4 and the history of the

building. The space has been designed so that visitors can

enter rooms from the central corridor, or not enter them if they

so choose (Figure 37)217. The rooms, entitled “Organisation

des Massenmords” [Organization of Mass Murder], “Die

Tötungsanstalt” [The killing institution], and “Opfer und

Figure 37 - Schloss Hartheim: exhibition room Täter” [Victims and perpetrators], function independently of

one another, and the material is presented thematically. The emphasis here is on the presenting of

historical information, in an attempt to display visual proof of the atrocities that took place at this

very location. The material presented in the text panels is printed exclusively in German,

however, some general overview signs include an English translation (see Figure 39). It is also

important to note that expensive Braille overlay plastics sheets have been added to many of the

photos and texts to ensure that the exhibit is inclusive of the former victim group (See Braille

overlay in Figure 35 and 38). By including Braille in the exhibit, Hartheim is attempting to

include visitors with disabilities, but also to bring more awareness to the topic of disability to the

general visitor.

217 The drawback of this design, however, is that the visitor is not “guided” through the historical section of the exhibit, and they may miss important information to contextualize the topic.

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The exhibit rooms are very interactive in nature, and require the visitor to open drawers or use a computer to obtain more information about the topic presented in each room. The visitor thereby becomes an active participant in the exhibit and not merely a bystander, thus aiding in the Figure 38 - Schloss Hartheim: braille overlay of comprehension and retention of the material presented. displayed historical document

Special emphasis was also placed to include artefacts, including original eugenic books, found relics, and archaeological remains from the cremation oven, as well as photos documenting other found relics. The exhibit is also rich in photographs, both of perpetrators and victims. Schloss

Hartheim presents a unique photographical testimony in the form of historical photos of the gassing and cremation facilities at Hartheim, photographed by American soldiers immediately after its discovery. This satisfies Lennon and Foley’s argument that visual images are important to contextualize the information presented, and they allow the visitor to better comprehend the events. The material presented is done so not to elicit a voyeuristic or sensationalization of the events, but to display more historical information to aid in the contextualization of the subject.

As the largest of the three museums or documentation centres included in this chapter,

Hartheim presents the more extensive collection of material in its exhibit, which includes the history of Aktion T4 and the events that occurred at this location. Similar to other Aktion T4 memorial sites, the exhibit includes specific historical information on the events leading up to

Aktion T4, the gassing at this site, and other sites involved. The museum at Hartheim differs, however, from other exhibits in that there is a large number of historical photos from the time of

Aktion T4 and photos taken by US Major Charles Dameron who lead the War Crimes

Investigation Team 6824 who freed Hartheim. These photos show specific architectural features

133 of the building and do not contain graphic images, and as such are not voyeuristic. Visitors are able to see an abundance of photos of victims though a computer database located in one of the rooms. This provides the visitor to conduct further investigation into the victims before entering into the memorial area.

While most of the panels are very clear to indicate that this was a National Socialist initiative connected to Hitler’s racial ideology, and that it began in Germany, Hartheim has also included information specifically about the Austrian doctors that were involved in the murders.

This is a radical departure from the rhetoric of earlier memorial plaques, as this indicates an acceptance of representing the Austrian people as perpetrators alongside the Germans. Unlike at other Aktion T4 memorial sites, the exhibit also purposely states that over half of those involved in these murders were found in the surrounding regions of Upper and Lower Austria218. This takes on an onus of responsibility for their involvement in the crimes, and not merely representing themselves as victims. This change in the depiction of the perpetrator included in the museum exhibit is indicative of changes in public perception of representing Austrian involvement in National Socialist crimes.

Although there is a logical historical transition between the information rooms, there is no presubscribed route through them, and each room must be entered from the arcade corridor.

As such, the rooms do not lead into one another, and the visitor does not necessarily have to enter each, or any, of the rooms. For museums with a difficult theme this is important, as not to trap the visitor on a specific route and force them to confront all material. This is starkly contrasted in the following memorial rooms which force the visitor to experience all rooms.

218 “Etwa die Hälfte dieser Angestellten kam aus Ober- und Niederösterreich“ (Hartheim exhibit)

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After visiting the three exhibit rooms, the visitor is invited to enter the memorial area, also accessible from the arcade corridor. A sign clearly informs that these subsequent rooms were the actual sites of the Aktion T4 murders. The first room is dominated by a glass vitrine Figure 39 - Schloss Hartheim: artifacts and photo wall containing objects found during an excavation in the garden in 2001 (Figure 39). None of the objects, which include eye glasses, tea mugs, and crucifixes, are labelled, or associated with one specific victim, as is common in many Holocaust site museums. Glass panels containing photos of unnamed victims are on the other two walls. What is striking about these panels is that lines mark the spaces that have been left for further photos, and thus conveys a sense of absence and signals to an ongoing memorialization process. Aside from the bilingual sign which explains the history of the disposal of the ash remains, and the finding of the articles in 2001, there is very little text in the room. The visitor must decipher the impact of the artefacts and photos on their own.

The next room, the former Admission Chamber during Aktion T4, and the location of the first memorial in 1969, is a stark, nearly empty room which showcases a large excavated block of earth, and a list of 15, 074 Hartheim victims, whose names had been discovered prior to

September 2002 (Figure 40). Director Irene Leitner has stated that not all names were included, because not all the families had given permission to include the names (2005 tour). In accordance with regulations, there is no alphabetical or categorical ordering to the names, to avoid any perceived hierarchy of names.

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In place of the former crucifix and stained glass window of

1969, a large excavated earth block now stands in the corner of the

room. During the heating system repairs in autumn 2001, human

remains and personal artefacts were found outside the castle walls. As

a form of artistic preservation, a 2.5 m x 1.7 m x 1.5 m earthen block

was removed and preserved under glass. The block contains personal

Figure 40 - Schloss Hartheim: wall of victims' names (left), excavated earth block (centre) belongings such as jewellery, eating utensils, coins, and various

metal objects. A layer of ash can also be seen near the top, and the sign to the right indicates that

human remains were also found in the ground. With lights shining directly onto the piece, and in

the former location of the religious symbols, the work functions as a type of alter219. The shape

of the block and earth material makes a strong connection to a grave, and thus a typical

representation of mourning. The work also makes an impactful commentary on the treatment of

the Aktion T4 victims and their deceased bodies. In contrast to the objects that are pristinely

presented in the glass cabinet in the previous room, here one is able to see the objects within

context in the layers of the earth and how easily they were discarded. Much like the

preservation of the memory of the victims, the artefacts were easily covered over and forgotten

about. This room is therefore akin to a cemetery with the names of victims and the earth block

to symbolize a grave.

The final section of the memorial is a narrow elevated steel walkway which leads through

the former gas chamber, technical room, and morgue, leading to the crematorium (Figure 41).

Instead of following the pattern of the other rooms, where one can enter rooms from the arcade

219 During my visit to the memorial site in 2009, a wreath had been placed in front of the earth block, drawing further associations to a grave.

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corridor, here one must traverse directly though all of the rooms. It is a “controlled” visitation

from one end to the other, mirroring the journey of the victims, as one cannot leave the raised

walkway once they have started the journey. By cutting out holes in the walls and leading the

path directly through the rooms, there is thereby not a voyeuristic approach,

in that the visitors are spectators peering into the room from the arcade

corridor, rather one is “experiencing” the rooms by walking through them.

As such there is a conscious avoidance of spectacle, which is criticized by

museologists as a negative aspect in museums focusing on difficult themes.

There is also a preservation factor given that people are not walking on the

original floors, but several centimetres above this. By walking on the Figure 41 - Schloss Hartheim: elevated corridor through historic rooms elevated corridor, it gives the sensation that one is within the space, and

yet a perceived distance is felt between the space and the interaction. One is visiting the space,

but not fully interacting with it.

Bilingual signs briefly explain what the purpose of each room had been during National

Socialist control. These signs do not offer a didactic element, but encourage the visitor to

observe and contemplate on their own. Relics of the past, including original floors and doors

also add to an authentic experience. Also in keeping with preservation, not re-creation, plaster

walls were uncovered to show where the Nazis had

bricked in original doorways in an attempt to cover up

the use of these rooms after 1942. The rooms suggest

an aura of authenticity because one is able to have

glimpses of the past through the architectural details,

137 Figure 42 - Schloss Hartheim: site of cremation ovens (centre), historical traces (right) and one is better able to conceptualize the events that happened in these rooms by being able to

see part of the past. According to Nierich, it is important pedagogically as authentic places are

beneficial for the comprehension of the traumatic events that took place there.

The elevated path leads directly to the former cremation room (Figure 42). The

whitewashed walls and complete absence of artefacts and signage signals a sense of emptiness

which allows for contemplation and memorialization. Similar to other rooms in the memorial

section of Hartheim, there is a fusion of the artefact, in the form of the uncovering of the original

brick wall, visible to the right in Figure 42, and the abstract, in the single light used to represent

the former location of the cremation oven. A steel railing brings the path to an abrupt stop,

symbolizing the end of the victims’ journey. The visitor cannot interact with this space, but is

kept at a distance from the symbolic cremation oven.

The final memorial room on the first floor is located just beyond the former crematorium

(Figure 43). Located on one of the circular tower

rooms, the Herbert Friedl designed meditation room

offers a place for quiet reflection, and in essence

has replaced the former chapel area of the 1969

memorial room. Akin to the other memorial

Figure 43 - Schloss Hartheim: modern memorial space spaces, this room is white and offers the same sense of emptiness. Although the stain glass

windows suggest a church-like atmosphere, the room was not intentionally designed to be

religiously dominated, in contrast to the as the original memorial rooms which were strongly

connected to religion (Reese and Kepplinger 533). The original bronze doors were put into

138 storage, and a glass door, etched with the European Union’s

Article 25 on the integration of people with disabilities, offers a welcoming glimpse in to the space beyond220. A guest book is also included in this room.

Figure 44 - Schloss Hartheim: arcade The dominating aesthetic of the entire memorialization area is that of emptiness, which leaves space open for reflection. The blank white walls convey a sense of calmness, but also an absence to what was once there221. The dark cabinets, gray display walls, and low lighting add a mystique and ominous tone, and in this manner function as an appropriate reflection on the events that took place in those very rooms. There is thereby a cacophony between the ideas of beauty, simplicity and serenity with the white colouring, and tragic and darkness that clouds the memory of this site. There is also a strong dichotomy between architectural and artefactual remains, and the abstract. Reese and Kepplinger comment: “Das Spannungsverhältnis zwischen den historischen Spuren, ihrer archäologischen Freilegung und der folgenden “Fassung” durch die künstlerische Gestaltung führe zu einer neuerlichen Revision des Konzeptes” (Reese and

Kepplinger 536)222. The use of colour and the mixture of truth and abstract is designed to stimulate the visitor, and evoke contemplation.

The site straddles a difficult quandary of how much historical and architectural detail to disclose, without false recreation of the rooms. This is a necessary process in effectively creating a memory beacon to connect the memorialization practice to the history of Hartheim,

220 These glass doors are in stark contrast to the solid door at Sonnenstein, which discourages visitors from entering the space. 221 The first memorial room, “Organization of Mass murder”, also showcases a ceiling vault with the original ornamental paint to show the visitor a glimpse of what was once there. 222“The tension between the historical traces, their archaeological uncovering and the subsequent countenance through the artistic/abstract style leads to a new conceptual revisal”[my translation]

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while at the same time providing artistic and abstract symbols to spur contemplation. In

questioning what “authentic” to display, one must consider what is the authentic; the institution

prior to 1939, the Aktion T4 use in 1941, the remains after the war in 1945, or the residential use

and first memorial of 1969? The current memorial site has presented enough historical

architectural detail to satisfy the viewer’s desire for the authentic, without creating spectacle and

changing the integrity of the site223.

In addition to the memorial section on the ground floor at Hartheim, the educational

museum and exhibit “Wert des Lebens” is an important part of learning at Schloss Hartheim.

While this education section of Schloss Hartheim does not appear as often in literature as the

memorial section, it should be viewed as equally important, as it sheds light on possible dangers

of eugenics and genetic engineering, and brings

attention to societal pressures and complications of

living with a disability. It functions to bring the

dangers of the historic event into contemporary

discourse. The majority of the exhibit can be found

on the second floor of the castle, which allows it to be

completely separate from the memorial museum.

Using interactive panels, televisions, bright colours,

Figure 45 - Schloss Hartheim: "Wert des Lebens" exhibit historical photos, and a mock laboratory, the exhibit space

223 Reese and Kepplinger also question the importance of the authentic at Hartheim. In their chapter “Das Gedenken in Hartheim”, they identify one danger of showing too much. The cold-storage room that was installed in 1929 was not included in the exhibit. Although it was used at the time of Aktion T4, as a cold-storage room for meats, a danger exists that there would be a problematic false association in the mind of the visitor when they saw the meat hooks. An invalid correlation could be that this room was used for torture by the Nazis, and thus this room was eliminated from the exhibit. (Reese and Kepplinger 538) This can be contrasted with Sonnenstein, which includes elements that were not original to the Aktion T4 time period.

140 documents the history and negative impact of eugenics, the treatment of people with mental and physical disabilities throughout modern history, propaganda during the 1930s in Germany, and the future of eugenics and designer children224. The beginning of the exhibit on the second floor asks people to think about what exactly a disability could be, and then goes on to list possible problems one might encounter in everyday life. This is extremely important for both young and old visitors to put into context how a disability could affect someone daily in modern society. It encourages the viewer to question their own beliefs and allows them to better relate to the topic.

This follows in theories of disability studies in that people are challenging not the only disability itself, but how society affects disability, and conversely how disability affects society. Through the exhibit there are special signs which indicate sections that have youth related problems. This would be exceptionally poignant for a school group to make a connection between what is presented in the exhibit and by which problems the young people in the class might be affected.

The final rooms of this second museum showcase of the lives of several people living with disabilities in Austria today, as well as information about laws regarding the treatment of people with disabilities. Visually this section of the museum is more modern with curved, brightly coloured banners and sofas. This offers the opportunity to sit and reflect on the topic, instead of quickly passing through the exhibit. The photos and stories of the people in these rooms are current, and thereby engage in modern debates. Also displayed within these rooms are information about discrimination and the rights of people with disabilities. As learning about discrimination and treatment of people with disabilities, in order to gain a better understanding and level of tolerance and acceptance in society is extremely important in the social model of

224 As is apparent in Figure 45, the lighting in this exhibit is extremely bright and inviting. The exhibit also includes many modern methods of displaying information, including videos, technology, recreated realia that people can touch, and sound, are creditable means of reaching a young audience. Through the rich colours and bright lighting, the atmosphere is inviting. It is also very clearly apparent that the emphasis in this room is on learning and exploring social reactions to people with disabilities in a modern society.

141 disability studies, this room promotes productive learning. The final room also has a movable wheelchair which serves as an interactive opportunity for visitors to interact with the exhibit, and further challenge how they interact with people with impairments. There is enough seating in two of the rooms for a small class to sit and discuss what is presented in these final rooms, and as such, serves as an excellent pedagogical opportunity to discuss the topic of disabilities in Austria today. The complete “Wert des Lebens” exhibit presents the developmental path that leads through the and treatment of those with disabilities, leading to the dangers in connection to National Socialist use, then to modern uses with science, and finally ending with a discussion on current trends.

In contrast to the memorial section on the first floor, the target audience appears to be German speaking, and the target age ranges from school-age to adult. Unlike in the memorial section, which offered some main signs in English as well as

German, “Wert des Lebens” is presented solely in German.

While there are a lot of photos and artefacts included, it would Figure 46 - Schloss Hartheim: use of be difficult for a non-German speaking visitor to fully in "Wert des Lebens" exhibit comprehend the important significance of this portion of Schloss Hartheim. Akin to the memorial section, great emphasis has been placed in this exhibit to include visitors with disabilities. Each room features an initial map outlining the design and features of the room, which is also covered in a Braille overlay (Figure 46). The rooms are also all easily accessible for visitors in wheelchairs, and an elevator is available to bring people to the second floor.

While the memorial area has the potential to shock or upset people with disabilities, this museum exhibit offers interesting historical information and background, and also positive methods to

142 negotiate everyday life with a disability. As such, the exhibit expands on concepts prevalent in disability studies to promote and foster positive discussion about living in society with a disability, and developing acceptance from those without an impairment.

Similar to other Aktion T4 memorial sites, Schloss Hartheim is not easily accessible via public transportation. This fact is highlighted in a video installation, “Fünf Wege nach

Hartheim” [Five Paths to Hartheim], in the “Wert des Lebens” exhibit. Each video follows a person with disabilities trying to reach Schloss Hartheim, and the difficulties they encounter trying to reach the site. By including these videos, the site is aware of the physical barriers in reaching the location. There is a direct regional train from Linz225 that comes to a nearby station, and a 15-20 minute walk through the outskirts of the town is necessary. The memorial centre is clearly marked on the town map at the train station, and signage to Hartheim is abundant. As the town of Alkoven is so small, and the number of visitors coming to Hartheim by public transportation is so limited, it would not be financially feasible to create a direct bus from Linz.

The majority of visitors are from pre-arranged tour groups.

iii. Current Trends in Memorialization in Upper Austria

Being selected one of the Kulturhauptstadt Europa [European Capital of Culture] cities in

2009 presented a fascinating opportunity for Linz to reflect on its past. Known as the Heimatgau des Führers [home region of the Führer], the city has a strong connection to National Socialism, and the atrocities that took place in the surrounding areas during WWII. Nazi history was not hidden away during this cultural year, but rather was a prominent theme with walking tours with audio guides, installations on famous historic buildings, a countermonument “In Situ” printed on

225 Linz to Alkoven is approximately 30 minutes away on the LILO, Linzer Lokalbahn, system. Travel time depends on the time of the day and day of the week as it can have infrequent service.

143 the ground around the city226, and a special museum exhibition on the “Führer’s Capital of

Culture”. A special supplementary book, Geschichte Buch [History Book], was created as a guide for exploring Linz’s connection to National Socialism. The work, a combination of text and photos, was not intended to provide information on all WWII aspects, but rather as a tool to raise questions in an attempt to generate discourse on the subject. The topic of Schloss Hartheim and Nazi euthanasia is included three times in Geschichte Buch; it provides information about racial hygiene (57), the escalating persecution of those with disabilities leading to the murders at

Hartheim (62), and in a listing of historical places surrounding Linz (98). While there are several photos of the Mauthausen Concentration Camp memorial, no photo of Schloss Hartheim or stock images of Nazi euthanasia was included. This absence must be noted as a further omission of the subject in material about the time period. Although a distinct effort was made to include the topic of Aktion T4 in the material, it does not receive the same attention as the concentration camp227.

The topic of Schloss Hartheim has appeared in public media in Upper Austria over the past decade. Various radio and television programs have featured the subject matter, but it must be noted that these programs generally cover more historical aspects, including the development of

Aktion T4 and the murders that took place at the killing centres, but do not tend to focus on the memorialization process. Some programs covered the commemoration celebrations in conjunction with Mauthausen that took place at Schloss Hartheim. Other radio programs

226 “In Situ”, created by Dagmar Höss, Monika Sommer and Heidemarie Uhl, was a series of 65 informational signs written on the ground in white paint. The intent was to describe events that took place at that very location, a similar concept to Stolpersteine. The project was designed to raise awareness about National Socialist history and dictatorship in Linz. Two plaques about Nazi euthanasia were included: 7 Wurmstraße and 10 Niedernharter Straße. Additional information is available on the website, with detailed historical accounts and photos. (German version provides sources and further information) See http://www.insitu-linz09.at for more information. 227 A special information centre was set up for this year, and offering extensive information and tours. The major tourist information guidebook for the year, “Linz, Danube”, did not contain information about Schloss Hartheim, however.

144 discussed Franz Rieger’s popular Landesroman, Schattenschweigen. Schloss Hartheim has also appeared in newspaper and magazine articles, but similar to other forms of media, the focus has been on solely the historical aspects. Although the media is not discussing memorialization of

Hartheim, the frequency of its inclusion in popular media ensures the topic is not being forgotten. The Gedenkstätte continues to be active in providing pedagogical events, in the form of lectures, annual Gedenkfeier, and temporary exhibits.

In comparison to earlier memorial practices at Hartheim, and the avoidance of representing the victims of Nazi euthanasia in favour of including other victim groups, the memory work at the site today has changed drastically. In keeping with social trends in Austria, there is more acceptance of representing the Austrian people as both victim and perpetrator in respect to Nazi crimes. There is still a foreign element in that it was an action that was implemented by someone else, but the current museum space at Hartheim is clear to acknowledge the involvement and responsibility of Austrian doctors. The overt inclusion of a space to question the social acceptance of disability in Austria is progressive, and in keeping with trends in disability studies in that country.

D. From Silence to Structures

The memorial sites at Grafeneck, Pirna-Sonnenstein, and Schloss Hartheim are windows into political stimuli and ideologies that affected memorialization in the former West and East

Germany, and Austria, but also lenses in which to examine the topic of disability in these regions today. The layers of history surrounding the memorialization practices are all clearly apparent in each of the sites in the form of former monuments and plaques, and offer insight into memory work, or lack thereof, at each location. Although each site offers a unique presentation of its own history and memorialization practices, each went through their own series of tribulations,

145 which is not presented in the exhibit itself, but can be ascertained through an examination of the memorialization history. While there exists small memorials at several of the clinics, institutions, or hospitals that sent their patients to the Aktion T4 euthanasia centres, the memorial centres at the former gassing sites represent the sole decentralized museums devoted to the history of Nazi euthanasia228.

But it is not just the grand political gestures that should be taken into account as absolute indicators of memorialization practices, but also what Alf Lüdtke calls the “masses”, a sense of public driven commemoration. As such initiatives at the site, however small, and especially community driven actions that took place at these three sites, are also important measures of the changes in memory work at each of the sites. As this topic had been relatively absent from political discourse, many of the initial thrusts of memorialization occurred from small public organizations, and paved the path for the larger institutions that exist today.

The memorial sites were rather delayed in establishing themselves, in comparison to other former Holocaust sites, and still are on the periphery of public consciousness today. Many people are either unaware of the existence of the memorial sites, and thereby the historical background on the topic, or do not wish to visit the sites of the National Socialist murdering of anyone with mental or physical disabilities. The remote location of each of the case studies examined in this chapter also adds to the lower number of visitors as compared to other

Holocaust memorial sites, such as a former concentration camp. It is almost as if the sites were built to fulfil a requirement to construct a memorial centre on site, as opposed to a desire to bear witness to the past, and shed light on the topic of disability. Those who visit the sites most often

228 There has been mention to construct an informational centre at the former bureaucratic offices in Berlin, but this has not been undertaken. The museums at the six euthanasia centres are the only museums.

146 have some pre-existing knowledge of the history, and as such, international or casual visitors are not the driving numbers of visitors. The propulsion to display this part of German history to the

German and Austrian community is clearly exemplified in the language used at each site. Here it is predominantly exclusively German, as compared to other Holocaust memorial sites which also include English to appeal to a more international audience.

The three sites are vastly different from one another. Grafeneck presents the historical information in a very transparent, but emotionless manner, with a strong emphasis on historical investigation. The lack of authentic materials or architectural remains makes it difficult for the viewer to comprehend the full relevance of the location. The documentation centre, which displays a wide breath of information, is separate from the surrounding institution, which results in a lack in connection to the field of disabilities study’s goal to have more social integration of disability. However, the current thrust to display and communicate information about the events that took place here is in strong contrast to the history that was so purposely hidden away prior to the latter decades of the past century, and follows trends to more actively represent WWII history and memorialization.

Sonnenstein is a smaller memorial centre which exists today on the periphery of the town of Pirna, both in the authentic physical location, but also within the public consciousness of the town that still seems reluctant to accept this history. Excellent counter-monuments have been created in recent years, to foster knowledge about the memorial site, and also to involve young people in learning about the history. The authentic, and at times eerie, feeling garnered by means of a visit to the memorial section aids in contextualizing the history. The small museum is comprehensive in its material, but in comparison to the other sites, it presents the least amount of historical information, and without strong regard for a larger international audience. This

147 victim group continues to seem like a forgotten group even with its location beside the new workshop. Despite being located directly beside the AWO Werkstatt, there is an ongoing reluctance to have a perpetual reminder of the guilt associated with the Aktion T4 murders in the community.

Schloss Hartheim presents both an extremely extensive history section, an authentic memorial space, but perhaps the strongest impact of the memorial space can be found in the second “Wert des Lebens” exhibit. For it is here that concepts of disability studies can be appropriated and put into practice. While the presentation of historical material is essential to bear witness to the past, the addition of the material on the current strife of people with disabilities encourages discussions about living in society with a disability without prejudice.

The layers of memorialization history displayed in the plaques speaks to the difficulty of acknowledging the Austrian people’s involvement in Aktion T4, and recognizing the T4 victims as a legitimate group, independent of the history of Mauthausen.

A common aspect at all three sites is the difficulty in representing both victims and perpetrators within the one exhibit space. While all three exhibits contain information about the victims and perpetrators as groups, there is a difficulty in actually naming those involved. There is a trend to name the main Schreibtischtäter and the chief physicians who works at the T4 sites and also in the extermination camps in the East, but the doctors, nurses, and employees of the sites are not named. This would be due to the fact that man could be still active or well known in the community. This lack of identifying the victimizers results in a echelon of distance. Schloss

Hartheim has not specifically named the doctors and staff involved, but has succeeded in identifying that the doctors who were involved with the murders came from the immediate area.

Thus they have not shirked the responsibility of presenting this guilt. It is also challenging to

148 specifically name the victims, as many recoil from the theme of disability, and they do not want their family’s name associated with the euthanasia programme. As some families willingly gave their kin to Aktion T4, and those in the area might be familiar with the fate of the patients, naming the victims would also force the acknowledgement of guilt. All memorial sites have attempted to frame the rhetoric of victims and perpetrators with as little emotion as possible, both with a lack of sense of pity for the victims, and without assigning guilt and passing judgment on the perpetrators.

As these extermination sites are all located within Germany and Upper Austria, as opposed to the extermination camps of Aktion Reinhard, which would have been ‘out of site’ in the far East, some visitors may be reluctant to visit the sites as they are geographically and proverbially too close to home229. The concept that the German and Austrian people were at once victims and perpetrators in the same action is difficult to fathom, which results in an avoidance. In commemorating the victims, one must consider the responsibility and actions of one’s own peoples. As such, having the sites on the periphery allows for them to be present physically as a means to commemorate the past, and yet forever remote enough from the public consciousness.

The three sites maintain a method of displaying a difficult history without sensationalizing the violence surrounding the events, and also without creating a sense of voyeurism or spectacle. The exhibits at the sites satisfy ICOM’s definition of a museum to present the tangible and intangible history, as well as presenting material to engage with the

229 All three sites contain statements to the fact that people in the surrounding communities could see the smoke and were aware of what was happening on site. Such statements are difficult for the viewer as they evoke sentiments of responsibility and culpability.

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Geneva Conventions’ assertion of “never again”. The combination of history and a memorial space at each of the sites serve as means to bear witness to the past.

The impact and outreach potential that each of these sites possesses is immeasurable.

While the presentation of history is inarguably extremely important, the sites also offer the opportunity to have a much further reaching affect on society from not only presenting historical information, but also to actively engage in disability studies today, and raise questions and awareness about topics such as living with disabilities, bioethics, and discrimination. In this regard, Schloss Hartheim far succeeds the other sites examined in this chapter, especially in its second museum devoted to living with disability today and the direct engagement and discussion on the negative repercussions of the actions of forced sterilization and euthanasia of people with disabilities, and a direct connection to disability in Austria today.

Although graphic images and a plethora of tangible artefacts are absent from these sites, the museums and memorial sites have become spaces of living history. The use of space today for current institutions or work centres for people with disabilities, combined with the memorial sites, bring attention to the topic of living with a disability in society today, and challenge the socially persisting fetishization and prejudice against people which disabilities as the “other”, which the field of disability studies tries to eradicate. While at first glance there seems to be a macabre mixing of the traumatic events of the past and a separation from general society in these remote locations, the impact of seeing people with disabilities at the current sites perhaps has a stronger pedagogical function that images and artefacts in a museum. This would reinforce

James Young’s statement about imagining oneself as the victim in order to ensure that it never happens again.

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Chapter 3 : “Counter Memories”: Alternative Approaches to the Representation of Aktion T4 and National Socialist Euthanasia in the Mediums of Monuments and Art

Jedes Denkmal, egal warum und von wem errichtet, hat wie der Gott Janus zwei Gesichter: Eines, das nach hinten, in die Vergangenheit, auf die Ereignisse schaut, und das andere, das den Stifter bezeugt und in die Zukunft blickt.230 Franz Schwarzbauer Die Medien erinnern nur, die Kunst aber gedenkt. 231 Walter Grasskamp

We erect monuments so that we shall always remember and build monuments so that we shall never forget. Arthur Danto232

The visual medium offers a unique memorialization opportunity, which does not explicitly force words upon memory work, but rather it allows for a more open interpretation of the events of Aktion T4. As discussed in the introductory chapter, there is a reluctance to ‘view’ disability and a natural aversion to turn away from images of disability. It is thus the responsibility of the artist to create a memorial work which invites the gaze of the visitor to memorialize the victims of the National Socialist euthanasia programme, and does not perpetuate the tendency to eschew this difficult subject matter. This chapter explores works that represent a modern approach to memory work, and the proactive method to remember Aktion T4 within the

German culture. Some pieces included in this chapter follow the trend of being more abstract in

230 “Every monument, immaterial of why or by whom it was created, has, similar to the God Janus, two faces; one that looks back to the event in the past, and the other that testifies to the benefactor, and looks to the future.” [my translation] 231 As qtd. in Schwarzbauer 17 “The media only remembers, art, rather, thinks/commemorates” [my translation] 232 Young, The Texture of Memory, 3

151 nature, without directly including images of disability, while one confronts the viewer directly with graphic images of disfigurement to an effort to shock and instigate contemplation. All of the examples that are discussed in this chapter require the viewer’s interaction with the works to fully decipher the ‘intended meaning’ of the piece and its connection to National Socialist euthanasia memorialization. They are texts which need to be read. They each require an audience to fully comprehend their significance, and they represent alternatives to memorial spaces to work through the past in an artistic medium. Herewith the genres of monuments, including Horst Hoheisel and Andreas Knitz’s movable “Das Denkmal der grauen Busse”,

Richard Serra’s reappropriated “Berlin Junction”, and Heike Ponwitz’s interactive Denkzeichen

“Vergangenheit ist Gegenwart”, and the genre of art, through the examples of Adelheid

Niepold’s “Den Toten ohne Begräbnis”, Via Lewandowsky’s “Sie können nichts schreien hören”, and Hans Körnig “In der Straßenbahn”, will be explored as critical ‘visual’ works which explore the theme of Nazi euthanasia and the murders of Aktion T4.

A. Schandmäler: “There is nothing in this world as invisible as a monument”233

It is hard to travel through Germany without being awestruck by the proliferation of monuments and memorials. In a period of memory inflation, the monument has become a signpost representing powerful memories. They function as a representation of the “politics of power, memory and cultural identity” (Whelen 13). The styles range from mammoth stone sculptures and bronze figurative creations, to the more recent subversive stickers, Stolpersteine

[bronze stepping stones], and thought provoking ‘countermonuments’. While there are extensive reasons as to why these monuments were created, be it to honour important political or military leaders, to mark a death or absence, or to identify a certain location for its historical significance, there are often several important commonalities and problems associated with monuments and

233 Robert Musil, qtd. in Young The Texture of Memory 13

152 memorials. This section will begin with an analysis on the function and limitation of monuments and memorials, before turning to specific examples of Aktion T4 memorialization.

It is important to first distinguish what is meant by the terms ‘monument’ and

‘memorial’. While Neil Welliver turns to the ‘Dictionary of the Arts’ for his definition of the word234, Arthur Danto succinctly explains; “Monuments commemorate the memorable and embody the myths of beginnings. Memorials ritualize remembrance and mark the reality of ends

… Monuments make heroes and triumphs, victories and conquests, perpetually present and part of life” (Danto qtd. in Young The Texture of Memory 3). James E. Young furthers this explanation by stating, “[a] memorial may be a day, a conference, or a space, but it need not be a monument. A monument, on the other hand, is always a kind of memorial.” (Young The Texture of Memory 4). Since Young also notes that the traditional monument of a tombstone is also used to mourn, the terms monument and memorial are often used interchangeably.

Monuments are inherently highly political, both in their function and development process. A monument raises questions as to which state body erects a monument or memorial.

Who is the intended memorialized victim group?235 Whom does the monument serve? The use of monuments in a public space can be connected to the notion of the affect. Nigel Thrift recognizes several forms of affect, one being “the careful design of urban space to produce political response. Increasingly, urban spaces and times are being designed to invoke affective response according to practical and theoretical knowledges that have been derived from and coded by a host of sources” (Thrift 65). He recognizes monuments, theatres, and mass public

234 Welliver 23. “Monument. A. In the wider sense every outstanding or typical work of art, but in the narrower or more correct sense, b. a monument erected by man to God, a saint or to the memory of important persons or events in history”. Since this chapter will examine monuments that do not fit into this narrow category, this definition must be dismissed. 235 The wording is often important in monuments and memorials. A vague overarching word might be chosen instead of directly naming either the victim or perpetrator group. Examples about the Aktion T4 Gedenktafel [memorial tablets] is discussed further in Chapter 2.

153 displays as examples of this invocation of affect. It is clear that in all these cases they elicit an emotional response from the viewing audience. By engineering the landscape, Thrift argues that these examples are producing new forms of power.

The fact that monuments are most often erected on public land further makes a connection to politics, in that it is a place controlled by political powers. Hilde Hein asserts that,

“the integration of the public into the work of art is inherently political, as is as such equally congenial to both conservative and revolutionary ideology. Public art has been used to great effect promotionally and oppositionally by all political persuasions.” (Hein 3) By erecting monuments in the public sphere, Adrianne Burk points out that private griefs are now being put on display in public spaces. The use of space is important for Aktion T4 memorialization. As will be discussed later in this chapter, it was deemed that some monuments should remain on private land belonging to the institutions involved. This desire to push the memory away from public view and into the periphery is indicative of a reluctance to memorialize the victims, and a lack of desire to confront the memory. The appeal to force the memorials to stay on private land, and not in the forefront, is in keeping with conventional attitudes to house people with disabilities hidden from public view as well.

There are also several common dilemmas for monuments. The first being the difficultly to preserve the intended connection between the sign and signifier, and the potentially false assumption that a monument will evoke a common memory. One cannot make the statement that the intended semiotic ‘meaning’ of the monument will always remain static. A monument created in stone will often give this false impression, due to the fact the stone material instills a sense of permanence, thus being resistant to change. While the purpose of a monument is to make the viewer remember something, that something may change over time, as the public

154 perception about history changes, the new generation of visitors brings different meaning to the viewing experience. Without a strong connection between the monument and its original intended sign, the meaning of a monument can clearly change. The intended history may be forgotten, or there is a fear that the monument will “recede into the landscape (and oblivion) altogether” (Young The Texture of Memory 7), thus losing its function as a beacon of memory.

A monument also requires an audience. Lutz Koepnick argues that we cannot “forget that memory does not reside in certain buildings, themselves, but in how given groups of people at given moments in time perceive and make use of them” (Koepnick 347). He continues, by stating, “space per se can never be political. Although a given place may be seen at a particular moment as a concrete embodiment of political meanings, any political understanding and appropriation is strictly allegorical and hence subject to change: you have to know that this is what it is supposed to mean – in itself it is inert” (Koepnick 346). Thus, in order for the monument to function ‘correctly’236, the viewer must be able to make a connection between the monument and its intended meaning. Recent memorial designs, such as the ‘countermonument’ that will be discussed subsequently in this chapter, attempt to shake the audience from a complacent viewing/reading, and engage them in an active interaction with the monument. The necessity of an audience is significant for the monuments associated with Aktion T4 as there is often a desire to turn away from disability. If there is not an audience who is examining and interacting with the monument, then it cannot function affectively as a commemorative space.

It would also be incorrect to purport that a monument reflects a common, or national, memory. As monuments and memorials appear as public art in public spaces, they negatively foster the notion of what Maurice Halbswachs refers to as ‘collective memory’ (Young The

Texture of Memory 6). Steir builds on Halbwachs’ notion of collective memory by stating that

236 By ‘correct’ I mean to assert that it evokes the intentional memory to be preserved.

155 memory is preserved through ritual and symbol in the concept of social groups in social spaces

(Stier 3ff). While political or state groups might use the monument as a location for annual communal memorial gatherings, it would be false to assume that the monument itself can act as a talisman of common national memory. The audience is needed to provide the memory work.

Functioning as beacons of memory, monuments can also provide insight into changes in public memory and national identity. In her article “Monuments, power and contested space”

Yvonne Whelen argues,

[i]nformed by these developments in contemporary cultural and historical geography which have emphasised questions of power and meaning, […] public statues provide the geographer with an important lens through which to explore the processes at work in shaping the city and which give tangible expression to often competing ideologies (Whelen 12). With this statement in mind, it is therefore possible to chart changes in monuments trends and styles, to reflect changes in national identity and the public consciousness. This is clearly exemplified in the case study of Horst Hoheisel and Andreas Knitz’s moveable monument, Das

Denkmal der grauen Busse, discussed later in this chapter. Public controversy can be ascertained in the example of Heike Ponwitz’s installation to be discussed later in this chapter, as there were protests surrounding it, indicating a strong ongoing reluctance for memorialization in the city of

Pirna.

The Dilemma for German Monuments

Denkmal, Grabmal, Mahnmal237, Monument, Gedenkstätte238 – the various words in

German reflect a wide array of possible monuments and intended meanings. Normally a country

237 Franz Schwarzbauer uses this term “weil sie [the monuments] die Überlebenden und Nachgeborenen ermahnen sollen, dafür Sorge zu tragen, dass jene Verbrechen nicht wiederholt werden” (Schwarzbauer 14). (“because the monuments should remind the survivors and future generations, to see to it that those crimes are not repeated”) [my translation] 238 This term is normally associated with memorial sites, such as those discussed in Chapter 2.

156 honours themselves with a monument (Danto 128), but with the example of Germany and World

War II monuments, they are not honouring themselves, but rather there is an obligation to atone and forever keep vigil that the events of the Holocaust are not forgotten.

Germany is faced with a delicate problem of how to represent the memorial practices for an event such as the Holocaust, which scarred the nation in a negative way. If, as Danto states,

“monuments make heroes and triumphs, victories and conquests perpetually [my emphasis] present and part of life” (Danto 128), then how do you erect memorials to keep a negative history present in public consciousness? What is the appropriate way to visually represent shame in the landscape? Unlike Holocaust memorials erected in other countries where distance can be placed between the event and the memorialization practices, in Germany it was the former persecutors remembering their own victims (Young At Memory’s Edge 7). Young identifies the intrinsic problems facing German monument creators:

Memorial artists in Germany, moreover, are both plagued and inspired by a series of impossible questions: How does a state recite, much less commemorate, the litany of its misdeeds, making them part of its reason for being? Under what memorial aegis, whose rules, does a nation remember its barbarity? Where is the tradition for memorial mea culpa, when combined remembrance and self- indictment seem so hopelessly at odds? (ibid)

Schwarzbauer also recognizes the element of shame intrinsically attached to Holocaust memorials in Germany, but also the utter need for them in society.

Diese Janusgesichtigkeit gilt prinzipell auch für die Denkmäler, die an die Verbrechen des Nationalsozialismus erinnern. Allerdings unterscheiden sich diese von allen anderen, üblichen Denkmälern ganz gravierend: Nicht mehr irgendwelcher Heldentaten oder folgenreicher Schlachten wird gedacht, sondern unvorstellbarer Verbrechen des eigenen Volkes, >Verbrechen gegen die Menschlichkeit<. Diese Denkmäler seien also »in irgendeiner Weise auch Schandmäler«, hat der Historiker Christian Meier konstatiert, denn sie »bekunden die Schande des eigenen Volkes in der Vergangenheit.« Und: »Indem die gegenwärtigen Angehörigen dieses Volkes aber bereit und fähig sind, diese

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Denkmäler zu setzen, distanzieren sie sich zugleich davon.« 239 (Schwarzbauer 14)

There have long been difficulties in Germany with remembering potential victim and perpetrator groups together, and how one should disassociate the two. Both Brian Ladd and Joel

McKim identify the problematic decision made by then Chancellor Helmut Kohl to erect a monument to the victims “of war and tyranny” in the Neue Wache building in Berlin in 1990.

By not differentiating between the intended victims of “war and tyranny”, assumptions were made that anyone who suffered during the war, be it Jewish victims, or those who died fighting for Hitler, would be simultaneously represented by the monument. This “implied equality”

(Ladd 220) of victims drew extreme protest. The proposed figurative monument inside the building was an enlarged version of a Käthe Kollwitz sculpture240. This image of a mother mourning her dead child, could have been appropriate to signify World War I memorialization, when many German families lost their children as soldiers. Jewish groups adamantly rejected this monument, arguing that “after a second war in which millions of women were themselves killed in bombing, mass executions, and gas chambers, “the surviving mother cannot be the central figure for our central memorial”” (Ladd 223). The objections to his proposal “speaks volumes about the state of German national identity” (Ladd 219)241. Here there is a need for

239 “The Janus-facedness fundamentally pertains also to the monuments that remind of the crimes committed by the National Socialist party. However, they differ from all other conventional monuments severely as: no longer are any heroic deeds or momentous battles commemorated, but rather unconceivable crimes committed by one’s own nation, such ‘crimes against humanity’. These monuments, then, are “in also some way also badges of shame”, according to historian Christian Meier, since they “evince the shame of one’s own nation in the past”. And: “since members of the nation are willing and capable to replace these monuments, they distance themselves from it at the same time.” [my translation] 240 The enlarging of Kollwitz’s work also drew criticism. Kollwitz created the original 15 inch high sculpture after her own son had died in WWI. Critics “questioned whether an expression of private grief should be transformed into a public monument” (Ladd 223). 241 I would argue that since that time, monument creators have taken special interest to explicitly identify each identifiable group, as to avoid protest about groups being “lumped together”.

158 differentiation of victim groups and a complete divide between ‘victims’ and ‘perpetrators’, a concept which has long existed in Germany.

Young also draws attention to a conflict at Berlin’s first memorial, “To the Victims of the

Hitler Dictatorship”, at the Plotzensee Prison. The problem arose when the memorial was dictated “to all of Hitler’s victims, regardless of nationality, religion, or political convictions”, and thus the city “defined victims of the Reich in the broadest possible terms, creating a common meaning for the murder of disparate millions” (Young The Texture of Memory 51). Initial

Gedenktafel in former East Germany broadly covered all victim groups by acknowledging those who died at the hands of the fascists242. In recent times it has become extremely obvious in

Germany that every victim group requires their own memorial, and thus an unspoken hierarchy of victim groups has formed243.

The purpose of a monument must also be questioned. As mentioned, the monument cannot do the ‘remembering’ of the event for the people, but rather the audience is required to be an active participant in the memorialization process. Huyssen speaks to the inflation of memory in Germany that can be seen in the proliferation of monuments dedicated to the Holocaust. He warns that such monuments follow the discourse of redemption [Erlösung], instead of restitution and reconciliation (Huyssen 182). Through redemption it is easier to forget the past (Huyssen

184). Young also acknowledges the inherent challenges of monuments, in that they have become spaces of contested and competing meanings (Young At Memory’s Edge 119). Without proper engagement with the monuments, they run the risk of simply being a place where one lays

242 Further to this see the discussion on the first memorial plaque at Pirna-Sonnenstein in Chapter 2. 243 Even within a victim group disputes can ensue. For example, there was a delay in the creation of the monument devoted to the Sinti and Roma, as it was unsure what to call the victims. The outdated term “Zigeuner” [gypsy], which they were called under the Third Reich, or the more modern Sinti and Roma. The delay in the creation of this monument, which has existed only since October 2012, has drawn attention to the memorialization treatment of victims on the periphery.

159 a wreath on state commissioned commemorative days, and forgets the intended meaning to remember. Koepnick as well is sceptical of the fetishism of monuments, and for an examination of the monuments to reveal their function to “help people commemorate painful pasts and/or articulate present-day identifications and dissociations” (Koepnick 352). In connection to Aktion

T4, and the topic of disability which is inherently overlooked, the monuments created to commemorate the victims must fully engage the viewer in order to ensure that the memory in present in the minds of the viewers.

One solution for Germany’s monument challenge is Young’s idea of the

‘countermonument’. In At Memory’s Edge he clearly outlines the emergence of this concept:

[…] one of the most intriguing results of Germany’s memorial conundrum has been the advent of what I would call its “countermonuments”: memorial spaces conceived to challenge the very premise of the monument. For a new generation of German artists, the possibility that memory of events so grave might be reduced to exhibitions of public artistry or cheap pathos remains intolerable. They contemptuously reject the traditional forms and reasons for public memorial art, those spaces that either console viewers or redeem such tragic events, or indulge in a facile kind of Wiedergutmachung or purport to mend the memory of a murdered people. Instead of searing memory into public consciousness, they fear, conventional memorials seal memory off from awareness altogether; instead of embodying memory, they find that memorials may only displace memory. These artists fear rightly that to the extent that we encourage monuments to do our memory-work for us, we become more forgetful. They believe, in effect, that the initial impulse to memorialize events like the Holocaust may actually spring from an opposite and equal desire to forget them. (Young At Memory’s Edge 96)

In this definition Young identifies the idea of the ‘countermonument’ as a different approach to memorialization that invites change in traditional unique creation, and supersedes the idea that the memory associated with a monument will be static, and that the countermonument requires involve the participation of the monument viewer. This new form invites the visitor to interact with the monument and take on the onus of remembering, and not relying on a monument to

160 house the memory itself. Instead of easily avoiding the monument, the viewer becomes an active participant in the memorialization process. There were two very affective countermonuments created for the memorialization of Aktion T4 victims, and one reappropriated monument which marks the location of the former bureaucratic offices of T4 in Berlin.

i. Das Denkmal der grauen Busse

In The Texture of Memory and At Memory’s Edge, James E. Young draws attention to the work of artist and monument creator Horst Hoheisel, and identifies him as a foremost creator of countermonuments. In these texts, Young highlights Hoheisel’s negative-form

Aschrottbrunnen monument as an example of what Young terms the ‘countermonument’. As part of Kassel’s “documenta” 1987,

Hoheisel created a memorial to the former Aschrott Figure 47: Permanent Bus at Weißenau Centre for Psychiatry fountain, which had been destroyed by the Nazis. He tackled the difficult question as to how does one remember a void, by creating a negative form of the original fountain, which descended into the ground. Hoheisel has been responsible for several memorization initiatives throughout

Germany, and in Linz and Sao Paolo244. Based out of Kassel, Hoheisel has worked, and continues to work, extensively with architect Andreas Knitz to create thought provoking memorials. His monuments beckon the participation of the viewer, and their form forces the viewer to question its meaning. The monuments hint towards a sense of an unfinished memorial

244 Hoheisel’s 1995 proposal for the Berlin “Memorial for the Murdered Jews of Europe” competition was to blow up the Brandenburg Gate. Hoheisel and Knitz also entered into the competition for the World Trade Towers memorial. See Young The Texture of Memory and At Memory’s Edge for more information about Hoheisel, and ‘countermonuments’, and Endlich for a detailed description of Hoheisel and Knitz’s work.

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process, as they are not static. Some physically move245, another changes visually246, and a third

provokes through hearing247.

Hoheisel and Knitz’s Das Denkmal der grauen Busse [Monument of the Grey Buses] is a

two-part stone memorial. Located permanently in Weißenau, Baden-Württemberg, the first part

is a life-sized concrete replica of the then iconic GEKRAT248 grey buses, which transported the

patients from hospitals and institutions to the six killing centres249. The second part of the

monument is “moving”; a 70-ton monument-bus will travel throughout Germany and Europe to

different cities that have applied to host the monument.

More than 60 years after the Aktion T4 transports, the

Denkmal der grauen Busse monument was erected on January

27, 2007, partially on the grounds of the Weißenau Centre for

Psychiatry, in Ravensburg250. Selected by a Jury from 8

Figure 48: Private vs. Public use of space proposals, Hoheisel and Knitz’s Denkmal was constructed in

the gate of the clinic, through which the former euthanasia buses once passed. The concrete bus-

monument was divided into two sections, and a walkway was created between the two halves.

245 Hoheisel’s “Denk-Stein-Sammlung” is a cart, which has moved through the Kassel train station. 246 “Ein Denkmal an ein Denkmal” is located at the former KZ Buchenwald. A temporary memorial was quickly erected directly following liberation, but then later torn down. This new monument is a flattened shape of the obelisk and is a heated slab that remains constant at 36.5C, body temperature. During the winter, snow quickly melts from the slab and it stands out from its environment. 247 When standing above the Aschrottbrunnen one can hear the sound of water, but it can be difficult to see it. 248 Gemeinnütziges Krankentransport GmbH. The passenger buses were painted grey and the windows were blocked out with white paint. There are numerous eyewitness reports about the frequency of the buses, and their likely use. Hoheisel and Knitz note, “[Die Busse] waren in den Dörfern und Städten bekannt gewesen. Keiner hielt sie auf, obwohl bald viele von den Todesfahrten wussten oder davon ahnten, wenn die Busse mitten durch ihre Dörfer und Städte […] fuhren” (Hoheisel and Knitz 69) (“The buses were well known in villages and cities. No one hindered them, although many knew of the death transports, or suspected them, when the buses drove through their villages and towns.”) [my translation] 249 The Weißenau Clinic actually sent their patients to Grafeneck. 250 Proposals were accepted until November 30, 2005, with the selection made by the jury on January 12, 2006. All entries were to adhere to the 100,000 Euro budget. For more information about the competition, and the seven other proposals, see Schwarz’s chapter in Erinnern und Gedenken.

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The quote by a victim, “Wohin bringt ihr uns?” [Where are you taking us?], along with the years

“1940/1941”, was carved into the inner side of one of the halves (see Figure 47251). Pedestrians, be it clinic patients or visitors, must pass between through the monument, through the bus, to reach the clinic252. The bus is both a realistic representation of the original buses, complete with detailed windows, doors, and correct proportions to the 1938 built GEKRAT buses, and, at the same time the bus-monument is extremely symbolic. The low-lying undercarriage and lack of wheels signify an eternal stop to the euthanasia action. The buses cannot continue on their road to the gas chambers (Endlich Das Denkmal der grauen Busse 75). Thus a connection is made between historical elements of Aktion T4, in the form of the realistic representation of the bus shape, and a metaphor that the events are now ‘grounded’ and unable to move forward.

In a March 2009 conversation with the monument creator, Horst Hoheisel, he indicated that there was controversy surrounding the location of the permanent concrete bus. At its current location, the front half of the bus is located in the (public) streetscape, with the back half on the

(private) Weißenau Centre for Psychiatry property (see Figure 48). There was some public outcry that the monument should be solely located on the Weißenau property, and not intrude into the public sphere. Similar to other protests discussed in Chapter 2, this indicated reluctance in the public’s ability to come to terms with the memorialization of Aktion T4. In keeping with

Burk’s argument, this highlights a problem that people would like the grief to be solely located in the private sphere, and not in the public space. There is a reluctance to mourn or remember in public, but rather it should be cast away from the public eye. This not merely for the idea of mourning in private but the reluctance to confront emotions of guilt associated with Aktion T4.

251 Figures 47, 48, and 49 – Hoheisel, www.dasdenkmaldergrauenbusse.de Used with permission of H.Hoheisel. 252 Hoheisel reports of Weißenau questioning this part of the monument, and the potential negative effect on the current patients at the clinic (Hoheisel 2009).

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What is remarkable about Hoheisel and Knitz’s Denkmal, and perhaps most effective in

terms of productive memory work, is the second bus-monument, which has the capability to be

moved to various locations, thus reaching a larger audience than a single static monument.

Created in the same manner and material as the permanent bus at Weißenau with the pedestrian

corridor in the centre, the monument works against the idea of the static, which Young warns

against as unproductive. The intention of the creators was initially for the second bus to travel

on the same route as the Aktion T4 buses from Weißenau to Grafeneck, making stops at the side

of the road along the way. The buses were to evoke a memory the ‘death trips’ of the original

buses, and to be prominent in the public sphere.

The first location of the bus-monument was in Ravensburg. It then traveled to

Grafeneck, and in January 2008, it stood in front of the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra, at the

former site of the Villa that oversaw the

euthanasia programme at Tiergartenstraße

4. In 2009, the second bus was located in

Brandenburg an der Havel, and it has since

travelled to Stuttgart (2009),

Figure 49: Former location of the Bus monument in Brandenburg Neuendettelsau (2010), Pirna (2010), Köln

(2011), and (2012). The exact route of the monument bus is often unknown in

advance, as there are questions of funding253. The bus also leaves a permanent impact, in that

similar to a functioning bus stop, the former location of the monument is marked with a

memorial ‘bus stop’ sign remembering the location of the monument and provides historical

253 In our 2009 conversation, Hoheisel stated it was often difficult to determine the route. Cities and town must “sponsor” the monument to come to them.

164 details. Although the larger bus-monument has now moved to another location, a ‘monument trace’ remains (see Figure 49). While the ‘body’ of the busy will remain in motion, there is a static reminder, which is left behind. A concrete panel, the size of the bus, will remain on the bus’s former location. A bus schedule sign containing information about the project and the history of Aktion T4, will also remain. In this manner the bus will continue to make an impact on different areas, but there will also be a lingering reminder in the form of a small text monument to keep the memorialization practice at work at that specific site.

But, the second bus is not without its problems254. The cost to ‘host’ the monument ranges between 30,000 – 40,000 Euros, and a series of Vorträge [lectures] should accompany the monument to make it affective. This money is normally raised in part by sponsors (50%) and by the city or province governments (50%) (Hoheisel 2009). In order to effectively work and reach a large audience, the monument needs to be in a prominent location. This raises many problems with planning, as a decision as to where to place the monument is often difficult to reach. There has also been controversy surrounding the hosting of the monument. Stuttgart was to host the bus in October 2009, but at the last minute it was called off (Hoheisel 2009). Hoheisel expressed two possible reasons. One was due to the fact that elections were held in Stuttgart on November

9, 2009, and the CDU was perhaps worried that the arrival of the bus-monument would draw votes away from their party (Hoheisel 2009). Another potential reason was that Grafeneck commemorated the 70th anniversary of National Socialist takeover, and there were already events

254 When asked about the instances of graffiti or vandalism to the memorials, Hoheisel stated that there has only been one instance. Someone answered the word “Auschwitz” to the question “Wo bringt ihr uns hin?”. While the correct answer should have been “Grafeneck”, it is apparent that there was a connection made between the Nazi euthanasia programme and the Final Solution.

165 planned in Stuttgart, and the arrival of the bus could add “zu viel Aufregung” [too much excitement] (Rößner interview)255.

Despite these problems, the monument provides to be a fascinating case study to a new genre of monuments, which nearly forces the public to engage with the history of Aktion T4 and

Nazi euthanasia. What is especially unique to this monument is the physical form. Hoheisel and

Knitz “wollen […] nicht nur den Opfern des »Euthanasie«- Mordes ein Denkmal setzen”, sondern reflektieren auch die Tat und die Täter, indem die grauen Busse, die Werkzeuge der

Täter, als »Transportmittel« der Erinnerung genutzt werden” (Hoheisel and Knitz website)256.

This decision to have the form of the monument also make reference to the perpetrators was a clear decision in the design process. Hoheisel and Knitz remark:

Wir haben bewusst dieses Werkzeug der Täter als Erinnerungszeichen gewählt, weil wir denken, dass im Land der Täter vor allem auch die Tat und die Täter des fabrikmäßig durchgeführten Massenmordes erinnert werden müssen, anstatt nur die Opfer in Trauer-Denkmalen zu ehren. (Hoheisel and Knitz 69) 257

This dichotomy of representation is a concrete example of the difficulty in presenting Germans as both the victims and the perpetrators. Hoheisel and Knitz’s monument addresses this dilemma by clearly evoking memories of the iconic buses that brought the victims to the killing centres.

The monument is consequently paying reverence to the victims, but also acknowledging the

255 A “Farbspur” [paint trail] was established between Grafeneck and Stuttgart to mark the anniversary. The trail began in Grafeneck and will reach Stuttgart on October 14, 2009. The trail is taking the reverse direction, because there will be “mehr Aufmeksamkeit wenn die Endstation Stuttgart ist” [more attention when the final destination is Stuttgart] (Rößner interview). The publicity surrounding the action will grow as the trail travels. There is also worry that there will already be great protests surrounding this action, and the bus-monument will not have as great of an affect. 256 “not only want to raise a moment for the victims of the “euthanasia”-murder, but also reflect the deed and the perpetrators by using the grey buses, the tools of the perpetrators, as a “means of transport” of memory.” [Trans: Sinje Miebach]

257 “We consciously chose this ‘instrument’ of the perpetrator as a commemoration, because we think that in the country of the perpetrator, the action and the perpetrator of the machine-like mass murders must especially be remembered, instead of simply to only honour the victims in a memorial” [my translation]

166 involvement of the German population, be it through the active involvement, or complacent bystanding. In doing so, they are achieving Moeller’s call for representing the past in all its complexity in order to more effectively memorialize this action. Stefanie Endlich states “Das

Abbild des Busses provoziert zugleich die Frage nach Tätern und Mittätern, nach den

Bürgerinnen und Bürgern, die damals zuschauten oder wegschauten, wenn die Busse durch ihre

Straßen fuhren, und nach den Bedingungen und Hintergründen der Massenmorde.” (Endlich Das

Denkmal der grauen Busse 75)258 Here the challenging combination of feelings of guilt and remorse are evoked together in attempt to acknowledge both sides. It is difficult to represent the element of perpetrator whilst commemorating the victim, but Hoheisel and Knitz have attempted to include both aspects for a complete telling of the history. In such a way the viewer is able to comprehend the history in context in order to better memorialize the victims.

The monument also challenges an underlying problem in the Erinnerungskultur

[memorization culture] of Aktion T4 and National Socialist euthanasia; the perceived silence and lack of public discourse around the subject. In fact, one of the goals of the monument was to work “wie ein Eisbrecher ein tiefes Schweigen auf[zu]brechen”259 (Hoheisel and Knitz 72).

Horst Hoheisel calls the second monument an “offener Erinnerungsprozess” [open memory process] (Hoheisel 2009), as the memorial is still in progress. As the second bus is always in motion, the memory attached to the monument is always reaching a new audience. As Hoheisel and Knitz’s state:

Doch um den 70 Tonnen schweren Gedenk-Bus in Bewegung zu halten, müssen Bürgermeister und Gemeinderäte darüber diskutieren und Verwaltungen entscheiden. Das Denk-Mal wird zum Verwaltungsproblem. Welches Dorf will

258 “the image of the bus provokes unanimously the question of perpetrators and accomplices, of citizens who, at that time, looked on or looked away when the buses drove through their streets, and of the conditions and background history of the mass murders.” [my translation] 259 “as an ice-breaker to break apart a deep silence” [my translation]

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ihn haben für eine Gedenk-Zeit und wie lange? Nur ein paar Wochen oder Monate, ein Jahr oder länger? Welche Gemeinde will diese dunkle Erinnerung schnell weiterreichen, wieder loswerden? Und wie lange überhaupt wird dieser zweite Bus bewegt werden? Wann bleibt er irgendwo stehen? Und ist dann auch die Erinnerung stehen geblieben? Wird er irgendwann irgendwo abgestellt, wo ihn niemand mehr wahrnimmt? Hört dann auch die Erinnerung an diesen Massenmord auf? Der zweite Bus stellt viele Fragen. Er ist ein Erinnerungs- Versuch. Er kann scheitern, aber nie ganz gelingen. (Hoheisel and Knitz 71) 260

In order for the bus to continue to move to a new location, a city or town must want to have it come to them. The impetuous for the need to remember thus comes from within, and is not forced upon the public or forced to remain static within the monument itself. Hoheisel notes that if there is no demand for the monument, it will remain static in one location. One could therefore argue that the second moveable monument reflects current attitudes in the public reaction to the topic, and if people want to take on ownership of the history through taking ownership of the monument itself.

The monument also challenges traditional notions of a static reading and interpretation of the monument. As noted by Young, “[t]raditionally, the monument has been defined as that which by its seemingly land-anchored permanence could also guarantee the permanence of a particular idea or memory attached to it” (Young The Texture of Memory 3). Here the second monument is not restricted to one location, and it become mobile, and brings the topic to the attention of more people. Details about the moving of the bus, presentations and lectures, and

260 “Thus to keep the 70 ton bus-monument in motion, mayors and local councils must discuss it, and decide on the administration. The monument becomes an administrative problem. Which village wants to have it for a memorial period and for how long? Only a couple weeks or months, for a year or longer? Which community wants this dark memory to quickly pass, to get rid of it? And how long should this second bus be in motion anyway? When will it stay standing somewhere? Will it at sometime be parked off somewhere where no one sees it anymore? Does the memory of this mass murder stop then too? The second bus poses many questions. It is an attempt at commemoration.” [my translation]

168 furthermore, the history of Aktion T4, are now more present in the news261. The attention drawn to the second bus has raised new contemplation about the history of the euthanasia programme, and brought the topic more to the forefront of public consciousness. For indeed each time a city or town offers to host the monument, it is akin to building a new monument. It raises political questions, and evokes public response. One such example is that Hoheisel asserts that the hosting of the bus in front of the Berliner Philharmonic Hall in January 2008 has opened discussions about the possibility of eventually establishing a documentation centre at this site

(Hoheisel personal interview).

ii. »Vergangenheit ist Gegenwart«: The Memorial Signs of Pirna

A distinctive memorializational aspect in the city of Pirna is the series of

Denkzeichen [memorial signs], which lead the visitor from the main train station through the city streets to the memorial site on the Sonnenstein grounds. The Pirna installation »Vegangenheit ist Gegenwart« [The Past is the Present] was created by the Berlin artist Heike Ponwitz in 2005, at a cost of 70,000 Euros, paid for by the EU and the Bundeskulturstiftung

(Pirnaer Rundschau 3). The project consists of sixteen glass plaques measuring 35 by 40 cm (Figure 50). Each is printed with the identical

iconic image of Pirna, and superimposed with a word or statement Figure 50: Vergangenheit ist Gegenwart Denkzeichen associated with Aktion T4. The purpose of these memorial signs is twofold; one aspect is to ensure that “es ist ein Zeichen gegen das Vergessen”262, but there is also hope that the signs will

261 Hoheisel explained that the new location of the bus-monument, and debates thereof, have been featured in the news. The Monument was also recently included in a Norwegian schoolbook: Volk, Thurid Visuell Kultur og Samfunn, thus demonstrating the far-reaching capabilities. 262 “It is a sign against forgetting.” [my translation]

169 draw attention to the memorial site itself, and encourage visitors to come to the museum located at the former gassing centre (Böhm and Haase 7)263. The signs are characteristic of ‘abstract art’, and as such the pieces also allow a certain distancing from the subject of National Socialist euthanasia. This is in direct contrast to a tradition informational plaque, which provides explicit historical information. Whilst the Denkzeichen draw attention to the memorial site, and thus the traumatic events that took place at Sonnenstein, they do so in a somewhat implicit manner. It is simply words, and not graphic descriptions or informational panels, and therefore the viewer must take the onus to learn more from other sources. The Geschäftsführer der Stiftung

Sächsische Gedenkstätten, Norbert Haase, and director of the Gedenkstätte Pirna-Sonnenstein,

Boris Böhm, second this notion in their statement: “Das Denkzeichen ist ein Instrument, das

Unsägliche in der Sprache der Kunst zum Ausdruck zu bringen. Er irritiert und provoziert und regt damit zum Nachfragen und Nachdenken an” (Böhm and Haase 6)264. The aspect of

“provocation” is a central theme for Ponwitz. Her idea was to incite the viewer to question the signs, and thus take ownership of the memory behind them. The signs printed with the National

Socialist diction do not give answers or detailed information, but rather they lack information, and thereby raise questions about their significance, and force investigation and reflection on behalf of the viewer. In so doing, the signs require the active participation of the viewer. If one

263 Although one can agree with Böhm and Haase’s statement “Wir hoffen, dass es mehr Bewohner und Besucher den Weg in die Gedenkstätte auf dem Sonnenstein finden lässt” (“We hope that more of Pirna’s residents and visitors find themselves on the path to the memorial site at Sonnenstein” [my translation]) (7), it must be noted that these are not signposts [Wegweiser] in a conventional sense. While they are easy to follow if one is previously aware of the route, there is no map at the initial sign, or on any of the following signs, and a visitor could easily become disoriented in the winding streets of Pirna. Also the signs do not explicitly mention the ‘Gedenkstätte Pirna- Sonnenstein’, but rather simply “Gedenkstätte zur Erinnerung an die Opfer der nationalsozialistischen ‘Euthanasie’. www.denkzeichen.de” (On the website it said: “a memorial to the victims of the Nazi “euthanasia” murders”) The viewer can thereby find further information through the internet, but not at the actual location of the sign. 264 “The memorial sign is meant to express the unspeakable through the language of art. It irritates and provokes, and thereby stimulates inquisition and reflection.” [my translation]

170 desires more information about the Denkzeichen project or the memorialization centre, the viewer is directed to a detailed website has been set up to allow for online learning.

“Das Schöne wird gewollt irritiert”

Not only is the memory associated with the signs is challenging, but the image included is also intended to provoke the viewer. As such, the background motif on these sixteen signs is an important aspect of their functioning as a memorial tool. The signs allegorically become a mixture of past and present with the fusion of two very important elements; the famous 18th century painting of the Sonnenstein castle by the Italian artist Canaletto (born Bernardo

Bellotto), and the overlay of grotesque National Socialist words and terms which are directly associated with the murdering of nearly 15,000 mentally and physically disabled Germans which took place at Sonnenstein. The image of the respected and famous artist was seen to be a positive iconic image representing the city of Pirna, and it has now been perverted with the negative actions of the National Socialists. The Sonnenstein castle, which had become a dominant motif in all of Canaletto’s Pirna works265, is printed in a muted and restrained green colour, and is shielded behind a glass sheet. The pixilated nature of the image printing also further obscures the famous painting to some degree.

Ponwitz’s use of Canaletto’s 1754 painting as the central motif in the memorial signs sparked extensive debate in the city of Pirna. Much was written in the newspapers, and the July

29, 2004 article “Provokation in Glas” in the Sächsische Zeitung lead to a series of rebuttals and responses, especially in reference to the use of Canaletto’s painting, and the “Gegensatz von

Schönheit und Grauen” [contradiction of beauty and horror]. The Kunstverein “Canaletto

265 The Sonnenstein Castle was a prominent symbol of the city of Pirna throughout history. Famous as one of the first healing institutions in Germany, the image of the Castle was consistently featured in Pirna literature and on postcards. A quick analysis of post cards available today reveals that the once famous city icon is no longer included, and is seen to be a mar on Pirna.

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Forum” radically opposed the use of the painting, stating the city and the artist “misbrauchten den Namen des Malers Canaletto und verfälschten historische Zusammenhänge” [Zeiss]266.

Professor Werner Schmidt, a Canaletto Forum member, and ex-president of the Sächsischen

Akademie der Kunst, questions the defaming of Canaletto’s painting, and the desired provocation of using the painting. This is an example that people are unwilling and upset combining something so positive about the city with such a negative facet of the city’s history.

The reality that the iconic image can in fact bring more attention to the subject of Aktion T4 memorialization has been completely overlooked. The memorial site, on the other hand, supports the use of the image. Stiftung der Gedenkstätte Sonnenstein states that it is “eine zeitgemäße Antwort auf diese Thematik”, and that “das Motiv soll für Irritationen sorgen und den Betrachter damit konfrontieren”267. Vorsitzende des Vorstandes des Kuratoriums

Gedenkstätte Sonnenstein, Ernst Günther, sees the contrast of the positive image of the city with the negative Nazi history as a “notwendigen Auseinandersetzung” [necessary examination] .

It can be argued, however, that the use of Canaletto’s painting, and the debate which surrounded its inclusion in this memorial project, is a positive facet to the memorial signs, as it brought attention to the memorial centre through newspaper debates, and shook the public from their complacency on the subject. The image may be well known in Pirna, but the National

Socialist history is not. Canaletto’s painting raises a sensation of familiarity, but then contrasts that with the relatively unknown history of euthanasia at Sonnenstein It is not a graphic or historical photo of Sonnenstein during the Nazi period, which would work negatively for working through the trauma. Here it is an artistic rendering of Pirna, and not a historical image.

The fact that it is a painting, and not a photograph, also allows for some distancing of the events.

266 “misused the name of the painter Canaletto and distorted the historical coherencies” [my translation] 267 “Stiftung der Gedenkstätte Sonnenstein states that it is a timely answer to the subject matter” and that “the motif should ensure irritation and confrontation on the part of the observer.” [my translation]

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As the words are powerful and explicit in unto themselves, the cool green colour is somewhat comforting, in contrast to the negative terms. The signs do not assault the viewers, but truly raises emotions of familiarity and the foreign, and elicits questions about their purpose. As such, the signs fulfill their intended desire to provoke. While at first the combination of

Canaletto’s Sonnenstein painting and the Nazi vocabulary might appear to be thematically linked, they are both important parts of Pirna’s history. Thus the good and bad are represented simultaneously. As such it reinforces that both positive and negative aspects of Pirna can exist concurrently in society.

The path most traveled

The location of the sixteen signs is significant. The Denkzeichen have been referred to as

Hinweisschilder [source], Orientierungshilfe [source], or a Markierungssystem [source] that lead the visitor from the train station to the memorial centre. There is no initial map to guide the viewer on a specific route, but rather one must wander through the streets to find the next sign.

Geographically, one should always be able to view both the sign and the Sonnenstein castle in the background to maintain a contextual relationship between the sign and the memorial site.

Thus exploration is required as the view goes from sign to sign, and it thereby engages the participation of the viewer. The path of the Denkzeichen begins at the Pirna train station, and leads the visitor through the residential and main shopping streets, past the renaissance city hall, the late gothic Marienkirche, to the base of the hill leading to the castle foundations. What is noteworthy is that the path does not shirk its route to the periphery of the city, but rather runs straight through the heart of it. This is important as the signs are thus located in positions where as many people as possible will view them. The people in Pirna thereby encounter the signs on a daily basis and are perpetually reminded of this part of history. The plaques are affixed at times

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to metal stands, but they are also bored into the walls of stores and the city hall. From the base

of the hill, the path does not take the shortest route through the old castle area, but rather leads

towards the remote and somewhat hidden “Canalettoweg” path along the Elbhang [the hillside of

the Elbe river], where the urns were originally dumped. It is here that the abstract idea of the

killing that was inferred to on the signs is now turned towards the morbid fact that one is now

walking were the murders took place, and along the Elbhang where the ashes of the victims were

unceremoniously dumped. The signs thereby lead “von Station zu Station ins Zentrum des

Leidens”268 (Endlich Die anderen Wettbewerbs-Entwürfe 15). Much like the fate of the victims,

one has traveled through the open public space, only to make the final section of the journey on

an eerie and obscure path.

The Denkzeichen are superimposed with infamous terms and words used by the Nazis in

connection with Aktion T4. The terms “Sonnenstein”,

“Sammeltransport” [consolidated shipment],

“Gnadentod” [mercy killing], “Trostbrief” [consolation

letter], “Krematorium” [crematorium], “lebensunwertes

Leben” [lives unworthy of life], “Rassenhygiene”

[eugenics], “Ärzte” [doctors], “Meldebogen” [form

letters], “desinfiziert: 13.720” [disinfected: 13,720],

“Heil- und Pflegeanstalt” [healing and care institution],

Figure 51: Krematorium Denkzeichen “Geheime Reichssache” [secret matter of the Reich],

“Sonderbehandlung” [special treatment], “Baderaum” [bathing room], “Knochenmühle” [bone

grinder], “Urne” [urns] are scattered throughout Pirna. There is no intrinsic order to the words

268 “From station to station into the centre of suffering” [my translation]

174 leading to the Gedenkstätte, reflecting Ponwitz’s insistence that these signs must be regarded as art. As a work of art, the installation of the signs in their random order is important to maintain a level of detachment between the sign and the word printed upon it. At no point does the meaning of the

Nazi phrase on the sign align with a geographical site, and thus there is an abstract disconnect between the meaning of the word, and its potential function as a historical pedagogical tool269. The wording is also important as Ponwitz is not passing judgement on the events. She has not identified the perpetrator, nor has she directly named the victims. The words are purely history Figure 52: Asche Tor sign and meant to be shock the viewer. As such it is easier for the viewer to engage with the memorials, as they are neither turning away from disability, nor are they faced with the difficulty of representing Germans as victims. Rather they are confronted with historical information and urged to refect on the memorialization that these signs evoke.

The placement of the final three pieces in the series is extremely noteworthy. The final two glass panels, “Knochenmühle” and “Urne”, are located in a remote area on the Canaletto Weg, which runs parallel to the Sonnenstein castle. In was on this point that ashes from the urns were deposited over the Elbhang during the Nazi control of the area. These final signs mark the

269 This can most clearly be seen in the example of the “Krematorium” sign (Figure 51), which is not placed near the former cremation ovens at the memorial site, but rather in the garden at the intersection of Grohmannstraße and Gartenstraße. Here the ugly word is juxtapositioned with the city gardens, at a great geographical distance away from the signifier to which the word points.

Photo Remark: What is interesting about Figure 6 is the juxtapositioning of the “traditional monument”, “Die Toten mahnen” and the newer countermonument “Krematorium” sign from Ponwitz’s installation. The aforementioned monument is clear in its intention to serve as a beacon to mourn the dead – but for what purpose? This is initially not clear. Ponwitz’s memorial can be primarily mistaken as mere art, but upon further scrutiny it is more direct for the victim group for which it serves.

175 beginning of a strong correlation between the meaning of the German term, and their connection to the physical location of the actions of the National Socialists at that time. The last panel, which is much larger in size and does not feature Canaletto’s painting in the background, is a perfect intersection of Ponwitz’s installation and the historical facts. A glass pane on the now closed-in section of the gate in the wall, through which the urns were carried, reads Asche Tor

(Figure 52). This divergence from the previous signs, and its absolute correlation between

‘word’ and ‘site’ suggests a transition from mere abstract Kunst, to the historically oriented memorial. It can be argued that although there is no direct connection between the meaning of the sign and the memorial site whilst within the public sphere of the city, it changes as one approaches the Sonnenstein memorial. This is significant as it marks a transition from public art to historical evidence. It is also important that the people of Pirna can encounter the memorializaton of the Aktion T4 in the more abstract manner of the Denkzeichen, without being inundated with graphic history which constantly suggests feelings of guilt and shame.

There is only one sign, which is located on the grounds of the Sonnenstein memorial centre. The final installation, which also does not feature the Canaletto painting, is situated in one of the former windows in the cellar where the gas chamber was located. Here the stone inscription is a reversal of the original title; “Gegenwart ist Vergangenheit” [The present is the past].

The titling of the installation is significant. “Vergangenheit ist Gegenwart” points towards the notion that the city of Pirna is still attached to the Nazi atrocities that had taken place there.

There is a Verantwortung [responsibility], to remember. Scholar Stefanie Endlich notes the following on the importance of the name:

»Vergangenheit ist Gegenwart« - dieser Titel gilt für das Kunstwerk ebenso wie für die Stadt und für unsere Gesellschaft. Es ist ein nüchterner, kein pathetischer

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Satz, eine These, deren verknappte, abstahierte Begriffe ein weites Spektrum unterschiedlicher Vorstellungswelten evozieren. Die Sachlichkeit des Titels drückt programmatisch die Grundhaltung der Arbeit aus. Kein Pathos, keine emotionale Überwältigung, keine sentimentale Inszenierung. Aber auch keine Vereinfachung, Verharmlosung oder Verfälschung. (Endlich Die anderen Wettbewerbs-Entwürfe 15)270

The reversal of the original title in the stone inscription at the memorial site is also of great consequence. Here “Gegenwart ist Vergangenheit” [the present is the past], evokes commentary of current bioethical discussions, and that we must learn from the past. It is also strongly linked to the AWO institution which is located beside the memorial site. This draws a strong correlation that the present, in the form of those who use the institution, are connected to the past as a former victim group.

While the memorial signs can be praised for bringing public attention to the topic of

Aktion T4 memorialization and attracting visitors to the memorial site, there has also been much controversy surrounding their creation. There was a five-year waiting period between the memorial design competition and the creation of the memorial signs271. This long delay is suggestive of a reluctance to memorialize the victims of Aktion T4. The actual location of the planned memorial also caused an interesting complexity to the designs submitted into the competition. It was originally decided by the Arbeiterwohlfahrt (AWO) Sonnenstein272, that

das Mahnmal nicht nur »am historischen Ort dem Gedenken an die Opfer einen würdigen Ausdruck verleihen«, sondern »zugleich der Begegnung von Menschen mit und ohne Behinderungen auf dem Platz zwischen den Gebäuden beider

270 ““Past is Present” – this title applies to the work of art, as well as to the city and to our society. It is a sobering, not a dramatic sentence, a thesis whose curt, abstracted terms evoke a wide spectrum of varying mindscapes. The title’s practicality expresses the stance of the work. No pathos, no emotional overpowering, no sentimental staging. But neither a simplification, belittlement, nor falsification.” [my translation] 271 Stefanie Endlich notes that this is not an unusual time delay for memorials of such a theme (Endlich Das Denkmal der grauen Busse 20). For more background information about the memorialization history at Pirna- Sonnenstein, see Chapter 2. 272 This is the facility which runs the work centre for disabled peoples beside the memorial site. Please see further discussion on this site on Chapter 2.

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Einrichtungen – Gedenkstätte und Werkstatt für Behinderte – förderlich sein« sollte. (Endlich Die anderen Wettbewerbs-Entwürfe 22)273

But this close proximity between the memorialized group and the memorial centre, was difficult for many artists to conceptualize. Also, by having the monument physically removed from the town, and located only at the memorial centre, it necessitated that the memory would forever remain marginalized away from public view.

Several artists submitted proposals274, and the competition was narrowed down to three.

Third place was awarded to Arend Zwicker (Dresden) who put forth a proposal to physically separate the Gedenkstätte and the Werkstatt with a large black half-transparent glass wall, which would allow the visitor to vaguely see the memorial centre, while also being confronted with one’s own reflection. The text “Das Echo des Schweigens ist unüberhörbar”275 was to be reflected onto the glass. Heike Ponwitz’s project received the second place prize. The winning prize was initially awarded to the group of Andrea Wandel/Andreas Hoefer/Wolfgang

Lorch/Nikolaus Hirsch (Saarbrücken/ am Main). They proposed creating a glass box between the Gedenkstätte and the Werkstatt to the exact dimensions of the former gas chamber, and filling it with carbon monoxide. Similar to the memorialization process of Aktion T4 in general, the gas is invisible, and yet present at the same time.

The “Radidikalität ihres Entwurfs für Pirna-Sonnenstein, speziell die Drastik des

Kohlenmonoxyd-Motivs”276 (Endlich Die anderen Wettbewerbs-Entwürfe 25) caused much

273 “The memorial should not only “give worthy utterance to the commemoration of the victims at the historic site”, but “at the same time promote the encounter of people with and without handicaps on the grounds between the buildings of the two facilities – memorial sites and workshop.” [my translation] 274 Team Hauswald & Krauskopf (Meißen), Via Lewandowski (Berlin), Herbert Volz (Ulm), Susanne Ahner (Berlin, and Renata Stih und Frieder Schnock (Berlin) were among the proposals. For more information, see Stefanie Endlich’s chapter “Die anderen Wettbewerbs-Entwürfe” in Das Denkzeichen »Vergangenheit ist Gegenwart«. 275 “The echo of silence is inaudible” [my translation] 276 “the radicalism of their design for Pirna-Sonnenstein, especially the extremeness of the carbon-monoxide motif […]” [my translation]

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debate amongst the city of Pirna, the Stiftung Sächsische Gedenkstätten, and the AWO, and it

was decided the Ponwitz’s second place project would be conceptualized instead. Ponwitz’s

designed was deemed more ascertainable for the project, and it was then chosen to be

constructed.

There was varied public opinion surrounding the construction of the Denkzeichen.

While there was initially very public debates in Pirna newspapers,

and the project was called a “Missbrauch der Kunst” [misuse of art]

and “Diffamierung des italienischen Malers” [defamation of the

Italian painter] (Endlich Die anderen Wettbewerbs-Entwürfe 15),

since 2005 the signs have become an integrated part of the city

landscape. In a March 2009 conversation with Gedenkstätte

director Boris Böhm, he notes that there are still many Pirna citizens

who do not approve of the Denkzeichen, but their opinions have not

been expressed in writing since the initial debates. As a telling

Figure 53: Damaged sign factor to the rebelling against the signs, the instances of vandalism

needed to be investigated. Böhm notes that there has been minimal vandalism damage done to

the signs (Böhm 2009). In March 2009 one sign in a remote area along the Canalettoweg had

been severely shattered and graffitied, and the Asche Tor sign also had graffiti on it (Figure 53).

Böhm concluded that it was not anti-Semitic in nature, but general mischief. The remote

location of the sign outside of the city streets was also contributing factor for this damage. There

was an initial concern that vandalism would be a problem, and it was voiced as a contra

argument against the construction of the Denkzeichen in the Dresdner Neuste Nachrichten on

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May 5, 2007277. This argument has not been justified, as very few signs in the city centre have been damaged.

As a project that invites, and rather requires the active participation of the viewer, Heike

Ponwitz’s project can most definitely be considered be included within James Young’s definition of the ‘counter monument’. Endlich comments:

Bei einem »Gegen-Denkmal« tritt die Bedeutung des materiellen Kunstproduktes und seiner Form zurück hinter die Einbeziehung des Betrachters. Dieser wird selbst zum »aktiven« Teil des Denkmals. Im besten Falls reflektiert er seine eigene Beziehung zum Thema und fragt danach, was Zeit und Wandel bewirkt haben. […] Ablehnung oder Aggressionen der Betrachter, so Young, seien besser als gleichgültiges Vorbeischauen. Solche These werden von den Erfahrungen pädagogischer Arbeit bestätigt. Denkanstöße sind eher über Irritationen oder Widerstände wirksam als durch den Versuch, Bestätigung und Konsens zu erzielen. (Endlich Die anderen Wettbewerbs-Entwürfe 16)278

The Denkzeichen function as a countermonument as they provoke the viewer with the combination of the beautiful historic Canaletto painting and grotesque words and phrases, and the lack of information contained upon them. The active participation on behalf of the viewer, in the form of additional learning at the memorial site, or on the online resource, is required in order to fully comprehend the significance and symbolism of the Denkzeichen. Ponwitz’s project does not work directly with the historical aspects, but rather is a tool through which to raise questions and awareness about the history. It cannot be considered a project in the vein of the 1980’s movement “Im Gehen verstehen”, as it is not a Lernpfad in the traditional sense with

277 The article “Gedenkstätte Sonnenstein: Zweiter Preis nun erste Wahl”[„Second Prize to First Choice“], notes: “Die Sorge, dass Vandalismus die Tafeln beschädigen könnte, der Denkmalschutz und andere Bedenken kamen zur Sprache”. (”The concern, that vandalism could damage the sign, monument protection, and other concerns camp up for discussion.” [my translation]) 278 “In a ‘counter-monument’ the meaning of the concrete art production and its form fades into the background behind the observer. He himself becomes an ‘active’ part of the monument. In the best case, he reflects on his own relationship with the theme and inquires after what time and change has happened. […] Rejection or aggression of the viewers, says Young, are better than indifferent disregard. Such theses are affirmed in pedagogical works. Food for thought in the form of irritation or resistors is more effective than the attempted attainment of confirmation and consensus.” [my translation]

180 informative panels for the viewer279. While the signs offer historically accurate and thought provoking words, they are out of context.

The signs are important as a tool to provoke the viewer to actively engage in Pirna’s history, but also as a reflection of Aktion T4 and Nazi euthanasia memorialization practices in general. The sensitivity surrounding the original winning project depicts the reluctance to face the history head on. Canaletto Forum member Werner Schmidt voiced the sentiments of many

Pirna residents when he thought “ein schlichtes Steinkreuz vor der Gedenkstätte, dass an die

Ermordeten erinnert” would be “wesentlich geeigneter” (Provokation in Glas)280. However, this locating of the memorial away from the public eye harkens back to the Nazi action itself, that was kept a secret and away from the public geographically, but also to the reluctance to remember and memorialize in Pirna. Ponwitz is to be applauded for identifying this danger.

“Gerade die Pirnaer, oft mit mangelheften Kenntnissen über die Euthanasie-Verbrechen ausgestattet, sollen sich durch die Tafeln mit diesem schrecklichen Teil deutscher Historie auseinander setzen.” (Provokation in Glas)281 By placing the signs throughout the heart of the city, the residents are forced to confront the Nazi history of Sonnenstein every day.

Heike Ponwitz’s Denkzeichen is an effective tool to examine and memorialize the

National Socialist murders at Sonnenstein. Although the signs are located in prominent positions within the city, it is not an assaulting phenomenon with graphic images, but one that rather provokes the viewer to reflect on the shocking terms, and causes them to question the signs’ meaning. The signs represent a way in which people can live with a shocking history, while still

279 1981 marked the beginning of a series of Geschichtspfade [Historical Walks] which provided information in the form of panels. Since Ponwitz’s signs only include a National Socialist term and a website to obtain more information, they cannot be considered part of this genre. See Endlich Die anderen Wettbewerbs-Entwürfe for more information on “Im Gehen verstehen”. 280 “A modest stone cross in front of the memorial site which reminds the viewer of the murder victims” would be “much more suitable”. [my translation] 281 “Especially the people of Pirna, who are frequently fitted with insufficient knowledge about the Euthanasia crimes, should deal with this horrible part of German history by means of the memorial signs.” [my translation]

181 being a vehicle in which to work through and explore that trauma in a positive manner. It reinforces the idea that both good and evil can exist together. Ponwitz has created a counter monument, which requires the viewer to engage with the signs, and unlike other monuments for

Nazi euthanasia crimes, one that has not been pushed to the periphery. While it would be easy to overlook a memorial strictly at the memorial site, the Denkzeichen makes a powerful connection between the heart of the city of Pirna, and the Gedenkstätte at Sonnenstein. The added fact that it is not just one sign in one location, but sixteen signs visible throughout the city, indicates that the history and memorialization should also permeate the public consciousness.

The signs also evoke a sense of excitement in discovery. Because the path of the signs is not initially known, people must explore the city to encounter the next one. It builds a sense of adventure of the unknown, but yet that one is still exploring something important. The search for the signs engages the viewer, and calls upon them to be engaged in active participation. It is important to note that this ‘search’ cannot be likened to a ‘game’, as it is readily apparent that the tone of the words is not humourous or trivial, but rather one is exploring a serious moment in history, whilst discovering a path to a dark history.

The fact that the signs do not contain more historical information and function as a traditional Lernpfad should not distract from the fact that their provocation through Canaletto’s iconic image and the grotesque Nazi vocabulary serve as a stimulating method to memorialize the National Socialist murders at Sonnenstein. Through these signs, Ponwitz appropriately confronts the viewer and stimulates an examination and reflection about this historic time period, as a means to memorialize in a pedagogically productive manner.

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iii. Berlin Curves or Berlin Junction?

Hoheisel and Knitz’s Denkmal and Ponwitz’s

Denkzeichen represent two examples of countermonuments which attempt to engage with the viewer in order to memorialize the victims of Aktion T4.

Through their multiple locations, they are able to reach a larger audience. But the fact that they are not located on Figure 54: The interior of the work primary sites of historical actions can also be a deterrent to memory production as there is a possible lack of contextualization between the history, and the assigned meaning of the monument. It is also important to examine monuments that are located at the actual sites of former terror. As discussed further in Chapter 2, small memorials and documentation centres are located at each of the six former killing centres, as well as at several of the institutions and hospitals which contributed to the programme. These ‘original sites of terror’ are necessary for a place to mourn, and thus the memorials at these sites warrant further discussion. The other authentic site that must be examined is the location of the former Villa at Tiergartenstraße 4 in

Berlin, where the bureaucratic offices were located.

The original Villa was destroyed during the war, and later torn down. In 1963, the construction was completed on the Berliner Philharmonic Hall on this site282, but there was no permanent monument or plaque created to indicated the important building which once stood at

282 Hoheisel remarks about the irony that it is now a place of the “schönste und höchste Musik wo die niedrige Sachen passiert sind” (“most beautiful and ultimate (highest) music is now where the worst (lowest) things happened”) [my translation] (Hoheisel 2009).

183 this location283. It was not until after 1989 that a ‘monument’ and Gedenktafel [commemorative plaque] were installed on the site. At present there is no documentation centre or museum at this site, but information can be gathered at each of the six memorial centres. The fact that a documentation centre had been missing from this location has been debated, including in the group “Runder Tisch T4”. It is assumed that the inclusion of such a dark history in front of the cultural highpoint of the Philharmonic Hall is not desirable. Similar to avoiding the images of disability, the information about the history of the event has been relegated to the peripheral memorial centres. Recently it was decided that a national “Gedenk- and Dokumentationsort”, designed by Ursula Wilms, Nikolaus Koliusis, and Heinz W. Hallmann, is to be built at this location. It should be realized in 2014, although no building plans are visible as of July 2013.

As part of Berlin’s 750th anniversary, American sculptor Richard Serra284 created the installation “Berlin Curves” in the Martin-Gropius-Bau. After the exhibition, the Berlin Senat

[senate] purchased the work, and placed it in front of the Berliner Philharmonic Hall, and the work was renamed “Berlin Junction” (Heesch and Braun 104). The installation consists of two curved ‘weathering’ steel plates285 that are 14 metres long, and nearly 13 metres high (Figure

55). Serra’s installation itself makes no mention of Aktion T4 or euthanasia, but a plaque was added to the site in 1989 by artist Volker Bartsch.

283 For the city anniversary in 1987 there was a temporary “Mobiles Museum” exhibit which was located inside a small gray bus, similar to the ones used to transport the victims of Aktion T4. The bus was located in the forecourt of the Philharmonic Hall for several weeks. (Endlich, “Geschichte eines schwierigen Ortes” exhibit) 284 Serra’s artistic works have raised debate in the past. Serra’s 1981 installation “Tilted Arc” caused controversy and has become a case study for Young. Serra was adamantly against the moving of the work, stating that it was site specific. It was removed from the New York public square in 1989. “Tilted Arc could not have it both ways: it could not please a community of artists who almost unanimously supported it and lay viewers disturbed by what they perceived as a violation of their public space. The conundrum remains: how is the artist going to be answerable both to his discourse and to public taste at the same time?” (Young, 1993, 9) 285 Similar to his other work, Serra has used COR-TEN weathering steel that gives the material a rusted, antique look.

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Visitors can interact with the monument by walking through the two steel walls. In their

monument guidebook, Heesch and Braun remark;

Der Gang zwischen den Wäden hindurch ist ein optisches und akustisches Erlebnis, das zu einer neuen Wahrnehmung des Ortes und seine Umgebung führt. Der Raum wirkt bedrängend; er gibt an beiden Enden nur einen eingeengten Blick auf den und die Philharmonie frei. Verkehrslärm dringt nur gedämpft herein. Die Geräusche der eigenen Stimme und der eigenen Schritte hingegen werden um ein Vielfaches verstärkt. Nur ein wenig abseits vom gewohnten Leben kann alles anders sein – diesen Gedanken ruft die Skulptur hervor.286 (Heesch and Braun 104)

People have interacted with the metal sheets by walking through the narrow corridor, but as can

be seen in Figure 54, many visitors had defaced the

monument with graffiti.

The work has been considered to be a beautiful

sculpture by a world famous artist. However, the fact

remains that it was originally conceptualized to celebrate a

joyous occasion, and it now has been reappropriated to

Figure 55: Berlin Junction with memorial plaque in the represent the dark memory of euthanasia victims. Serra is foreground known for his site-specific installations, and has been often

quoted as saying “to remove a work is to destroy it”. In this case even the artist is disapproving

of this work of art being transformed into a new ‘piece’. According to Henri Lefebvre, “an

existing space may outlive its original purpose and the raison d'etre which determines its forms,

286 “The walkway between the two panels works as an optical and acoustic experience that leads to a new perception of the location and its surroundings. The space is constrictive as it gives only a narrow view to the Tiergarten and the Philharmonic Hall. Traffic noise is muffled. The sounds of one’s own voice and footsteps, however, are greatly intensified. Only a small piece away from everyday life everything can be different: the sculpture produces such connotations.” [my translation]

185 functions, and structures; it may thus in a sense become vacant, and susceptible of being diverted, reappropriated and put to a use quite different from its initial one.” (Lefebvre). This is clearly exemplified with “Berlin Curves” / “Berlin Junction”, as one could thus argue that the abstract and minimalist installation piece is now vacant, and far removed from being a celebratory art installation or from the new intended meaning of a monument to recall the victims and actions of the Nazi euthanasia programme. Because of Serra’s iconic metal shapes, which are familiar to several of his pieces, the work can too easily be viewed as simply abstract art in front of the cultural centre of the Berliner Philharmonic Hall. Without the Gedenktafel, which is located somewhat removed from the ‘monument’ and which is easily overlooked287

(Figure 55), one can argue that there is no connection between the steel memorial, and the history of Nazi euthanasia. The monument therefore does not function as a beacon of memory, and does not achieve its goals as an effective monument to Aktion T4288.

Stefanie Endlich is also critical of this attempt at a monument. She states:

[Es gibt] eine Erinnerungsstätte, die als solche kaum wahrgenommen wird, mit einer abstrakten Skulptur des weltberühmten US-amerikanischen Bildhauers Richard Serra, die mit ihren geschwungenen Cortenstahl-Platten meist als »Kunst am Bau« der Philharmonie mit ihren ebenfalls geschwungen Formen gedeutet wird. Die in den Boden eingelassene Bronzetafel wird leicht übersehen.”289 (Endlich Das Denkmal der grauen Busse 77).

287 Note in the photo above part of the plaque was covered with flowers. While this draws attention to the plaque at this moment, it is otherwise easily overlooked. The fact that the plaque is sunken into the ground and not at eye level or raised off the ground adds to the fact that it is not as easily seen. If there is inclement weather, the plaque is also covered by snow. 288 It should be noted that the Gedenktafel itself does draw attention to not only the memory of the victims, but also to the lack of memorialization of said victims. The first line, “Tiergartenstraße 4 Ehre den vergessenen Opfern” (“Tiergartenstraße 4 Honour of the forgotten victims“ [my translation]), directly addresses the fact that these victims have so often been overlooked in memorialization practices. The final line of the panel reads, “Die Zahl der Opfer ist groß, gering die Zahl der verurteilten Täter“ (The number of victims is large, the number of convicted perpetrators is small” [my translation]). Thus it also directly confronts one of the founding reasons, the lack of judicial prosecution, which has hindered memorialization. 289 “There is a memorial that is hardly perceived as such, with an abstract sculpture by the world famous American sculpture Richard Serra. With its curved cor-ten steel plates, it is generally interpreted as Art at the Philharmonic

186

The critical argument that can be against Serra’s “Berlin Junction” is that is appears to be a token gesture to appease the ‘requirement’ for a monument on the actual site of Tiergartenstaße

4 where the murders were bureaucratically organized in Berlin. Unlike other memorials in

Berlin, there was no competition to design a monument specifically for the victims of Aktion T4, but rather this was a reappropriated work of art that was originally designed for Berlin’s anniversary. Conducting such a monument competition draws attention to the subject. People thereby become active participants in the memorialization process, instead of simply ‘borrowing’ art created from such a radically different intention. This lack of intent into creating a monument devoted to the victims of Aktion T4 signifies that it was easier to simply use another work, instead of conceptualizing something new for the memorialization of the euthanasia victims.

The conceived purpose of “Berlin Junction” was not to memorialize this group of Nazi victims, and thus it does not resonate or engage the viewer in memory work surrounding this topic.

While the informational plaque, which is located away from Serra’s installation provides the viewer with brief information about the history of Aktion T4, there is a disconnect between

Serra’s work, and the plaque. They seem to work independently of one another. Serra’s work is most commonly known in Berlin as “Kunst am Bau” and not as a memorial for the victims of

Nazi euthanasia, and clearly demonstrates that the majority of people are unaware of the significance and intended meaning of the Aktion T4 ‘monument’. People are more attracted to the famous piece and its perceived cultural connection to the Philharmonic Hall. For this reason, it does not function as an effective method of working through the trauma of this past, and functions more as a work of art by Richard Serrra, than a monument for this time period.

building, which also has a curved form. The bronze plaque sunken in the ground is easily overlooked.” [my translation]

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Whereas Hoheisel and Knitz and Ponwitz have created engaging monuments that

accentuates the memorialization of the victims of Aktion T4 and National Socialist euthanasia,

the monument in Berlin shirks away from the topic. It does not effectively engage the viewer,

and cause a memorialized connection to Aktion T4. While “Berlin Junction” and the memorial

plaque can easily be overlooked, das Denkmal der grauen Busse draws attention to itself,

whether as a visually moving monument, and through the continual attention in the media. It is

prominent in public spaces and streetscapes, and it leaves behind its mark, both as a memorial

sign, and in the realm of increased public awareness. It allows for an active memory work. The

monuments, especially the second bus, provoke and engage in an active discussion with the

topic, and in following the theories of the aforementioned scholars, the Denkmal can clearly be

viewed as a monument which memorializes Aktion T4 and National Socialist Euthanasia.

iv. Contemporary Aktion T4 Monuments

There have been two recent additions to the site that are warranted of discussion. Of late

a set of temporary informational signs were installed in the direct vicinity of “Berlin Junction”,

and provide the visitor with explicit historical and cultural information about Aktion T4, and the

memorialization of this event. Entitled “Geschichte eines schwiergen Ortes” [“History of a

difficult place”], the memorial signs will be in place

from May 5 until November 17, 2013 (Figure 56).

Created by Stefanie Endlich et al., the signs are part of

2013 Berlin cultural topic “Zerstörte Vielfalt. Berlin in

der Zeit des Nationalsozialismus” [“Diversity

Figure 56: Geschichte eines schwiergen Ortes

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Destroyed. Berlin at the time of Nazi dictatorship“]. The signs include historical information

about the euthanasia programme, this history of the Villa, a lengthy biography of one victim, but

also an unambiguous description of problems in memorialization in the plaque, “der vergessene

Ort” [“the forgotten place”]. In lieu of a permanent informational centre which is to follow,

these signs function as a memorial to impart information about Aktion T4, and acknowledge the

tumultuous history of memorialization at this site290.

A second set of memorial signs are located directly at the bus stops, which are beside the

philharmonic building. The signs are located in the waiting cabin of the bus stop (Figure 57),

and were conceptualized by Ronnie Golz. The signs on each side of the road are identical in

content. The focus of the signs is twofold: to provide

historical information about Aktion T4 and its connection

to the Holocaust, and to provide a biography of Christian

Wirth, who participated in Aktion T4 as a director of

Hartheim, Grafeneck, and Hadamar291. In this instance it

Figure 57: Memorial plaques at Berlin bus stop is not a victim who has been memorialized, but rather

one of the perpetrators. As such, emotions of empathy are not developed, but rather anger

towards the perpetrators. In this case it is no presentation of Germans as victims of Aktion T4,

but rather it appears to the reader that they were exclusively the perpetrators. It is clear that the

intention of the artist was to make a strong connection between the events of Aktion T4, and the

mass murders in the Eastern European extermination camps of the Holocaust. The signs,

290 Visitors are also provided with web-links to obtain more information about the history of Aktion T4, and also about the future Gedenk- und Dokumentationsort. 291 The signs are published in German and English to reach the international visitors in the area.

189 although they did mention Aktion T4, serve more as a memorial to the Holocaust in general, and not to the victims of Aktion T4.

The location of the signs is also problematic. It is very easy to overlook the signs. Their matted blue colour blends in with the surrounding glass of the waiting cabin. The memorial signs must also compete with the much larger advertisements and maps which are also in the cabin. One regrettable oversight is there is no information provided for further research or historical investigation. It is difficult to ascertain who created these signs, and for what purpose they serve. Unlike the signs ‘left behind’ by the Denkmal der grauen Busse’ or the temporary

“Geschichte eines schwiergen Ortes”, the visitor cannot easily find out more information about the historical significance of the memorials.

B. Artistic Renderings of Aktion T4

Another illustrative discipline which can be used as a tool to memorialize the victims of

Aktion T4 is visual art. While art can be considered to be a very therapeutic means for survivors to work through the trauma and memory of the Holocaust, there were no survivors from the action. As such, this topic of Aktion T4 memorialization is lacking the genre of survivor art, which is prevalent for the later Holocaust. It is often considered to be a medium which belongs to the survivors exclusively, and thus art created by those outside of this sphere can be highly criticized. The art included in this chapter is to be considered as an alternative form of memorialization. It has been produced as a memorial for the victims of Aktion T4 has been created by people who are attempting to memorialize the victims, and also make sense of the euthanasia murders. These examples of personal responses are attempting to bring attention to

190 the subject, as well as a means to work through the trauma affecting others as well. Boris Böhm succinctly states:

Die künsterliche Auseinandersetzung ist eine Möglichkeit, sich dem Unfassbaren und der Ungeheuerlichkeit der Krankenmorde zu nähern und zu fragen, welche Spuren das diese Verbrechen ermöglichende Denken in der Gegenwart hinterlassen hat. (Gedenkstätte Sonnenstein, 3)292

It is important to examine this theme in art as “paintings […] can reveal attitudes and social structures prevalent at the time when they were produced; we can reflect on cultural differences and similarities and come to a better understanding of ourselves and how we are embedded with the styles, institutions and attitudes of our own culture” (Feagin 214). In this respect we are able to gauge social attitudes about disability and Aktion T4 prevalent at the time of the art’s inception.

The medium of art can allow for a vast amount of emotion to be expressed within each work. It provides the artist freedom to speak, without saying a word. As such the art is to be considered a text, which needs to be read. Similar to monuments, some background information on the subject is required to fully understand the artists’ intended meaning. The forms used to memorialize Aktion T4 are ranging. They include an abstract rendering which forces contemplation on behalf of the viewer, an aggressive graphic image which intends to provoke, or a collection of symbols which, when read together, function as a retelling of history and depiction of German society.

The intersection of art and the Holocaust has long been met with controversy. In The

Holocaust and Literary Imagination, Lawrence Langer speaks to both of an ethical difficulty in representing the events of the Holocaust, but also in an ‘aesthetic difficulty’. He argues that

292 “The artistic examination is a means to come closer to the incomprehensibility and atrociousness of the murdering of the handicapped peoples, and to ask what this allowing of the crimes has left in the present.” [my translation]

191 there can be a false meaning applied to events, and thus the viewer is able to make “some sense after all” (Langer 3). In his reading of Adorno’s Engagement, Langer presents a impossibility in art that “the prospect of art denying what it seeks to affirm (the hideous chaos of dehumanizing during the Holocaust) raises a spectre of paradox for the critic, the reader, and the artist himself, that is not easily circumvented”. (Langer 2) Michael Wyschogrod is even more critical of the medium. “Art takes the sting out of suffering … Any attempt to transform the holocaust into art demeans the holocaust and must result in poor art.” (qtd. in Franklin 6) However, despite the purported difficulties of artistic representation, it is critical to examine what examples of Aktion

T4 representation do exist.

In following Susan L. Feagin’s argument of the importance of art as a lens through which to view society, the remainder of this chapter will examine three artists, and their interpretation of the subject; Hans Körnig, who presents his Dresden ‘lifescapes’ in an Otto Dixian vein, Via

Lewandowsky, who broke the silence on a taboo subject in the GDR, and Adelheid Niepold, who was influenced by the fate of the German expressionist painter Elfriede Lohse-Wächtler in Pirna-

Sonnenstein.

i. Hans Körnig – “In der Straßenbahn” (1956)

The 1905 born painter Hans Körnig was raised in

Dresden, and became proficient in the mediums of painting,

aquatint printmaking, drawing, and sculpture. His works,

especially those produced during the 1950s, were praised for

capturing the everyday life of the Dresden population. His

paintings focused on the squalor of the people, a beak

existence, and a glimpse into the gloom and repression

192 Figure 58: Körnig "In der Straßenbahn" under the pressure of the regime of Soviet governance (Pirna Catalogue, 89). His sarcastic examination of the grotesque and realistic in everyday life has been compared to fellow painter

Otto Dix.

Körnig’s 1956 “In der Strassenbahn” [In the

Streetcar] initially casts a gloomy portrayal of a streetcar filled with unhappy, forlorn looking people (Figure 58).

Upon further examination, however, a trilogy of events can be discerned. A sole poster advertising the Dresden

Hygiene-Museum can be seen in the foreground along Figure 59: Poster for the Dresden Hygiene Museum (right) the right wall of the streetcar, and its relevance to the painting should not be overlooked (Figure

59). The Deutsches Hygiene-Museum, located in Dresden since 1911, was the first museum devoted to the study of hygiene, and a leading source for health education during the Weimar

Republic. After 1933, the museum’s concepts of public health were widely upheld by the

National Socialist Party, and the museum can therefore be equated as a leading institution for the popularization of Racial Hygiene and eugenics. This poster, alluding to the first mass murders conducted by the Nazis, must therefore be regarded as the catalyst for the next events in the aquatint print. Another connection between racial hygiene and the victims of the Aktion T4 murders can be seen in the man sitting in the first row on the left. The covering of his eyes with dark glasses while inside the streetcar presupposes that he is blind, and therefore belonging to one of the victim groups that was targeted for extermination.

The clothing of the people is also of great consequence. The remarkable number of men and women wearing striped suits, reminiscent of concentration camp uniforms, is striking. This

193 is most prominently seen in the example of the man in the first row on the right of the print

(Figure 58). His suit clearly harkens back to a concentration camp uniform, and his gaunt face furthers the allusion to an inmate. Several people who are in fact wearing solid colours, such as the man in the second row on the right, have a striped shadow cast upon them. The floorboards are also stripped, continuing this motif. Since victims of the Aktion T4 initiative did not wear striped uniforms, one must assume this reference is to be linked to the later concentration camp victims.

The vehicle itself also draws reference to the train cars that were used to transport victims to the concentration and extermination camps. The rounded interior bars inside the car give the impression that the people are caged within the streetcar.

The final phase of Nazi history can be seen through the windows outside the car. On both sides of the streetcar large smoke stacks billowing out smoke are clearly apparent. This must be read as the final stage in the fate of the Aktion T4 and , and it is a clear reference to the cremation ovens. According to many reports of Aktion T4 sites, the cremation oven stacks and the smoke was clearly visible and not hidden, and therefore known to the public.

This frank openness to the smokestacks is mirrored in this work, as the chimneystacks are a prominent feature in the background of the print.

Körning’s print is fascinating in its remarkable drawing of a clear path between three important stages in National Socialist history; the initial euthanasia murders, represented by the

Hygiene-Museum poster and blind man, the concentration camp inmates, clearly symbolized with the striped suits and gaunt figures, and the final solution of extermination, as exemplified by the billowing smoke stacks. The apathetic gazes of the people in Körnig’s painting allude to the

194 compliance of the German population, who in part did not fight against the murderous actions of the National Socialists. The people in the painting are not fighting against their situation, but rather accepting it with stoic faces. The fact that little scholarly work can be found about this specific work is also indicative of the absence of the topic of Nazi euthanasia in artistic representations.

At first glance, Hans Körnig’s 1956-aquatint print “In der Straßenbahn” seems to be akin to his other works – a snapshot of gloomy, restrained everyday life in Dresden. But upon further analysis, the painting reveals an embedded trilogy of National Socialist history, which was so often repressed, especially in Körnig’s East Germany. The print is indicative of the silence and underrepresentation of the topic of Nazi Aktion T4 euthanasia, which is in fact visible in this print, if one is well versed in the background history and symbols of the event. This was the case in society as well, as the topic of Nazi euthanasia was not widely discussed. With the combination of the Dresden Hygiene-Museum poster, the apparent concentration camp uniforms, and unmistakable smoke stacks in the background, this painting should be read as a reference to the National Socialist past, and the transition from forced euthanasia to the Final Solution. The degree to which the topic of Nazi euthanasia has been represented in this work is in keeping with social and political trends at the time of its creation. The topic has been included, however only slightly on the periphery, without being fully addressed. Although the victims of Aktion T4 were not officially recognized as official victims by the East German government, Körnig has carefully shown the importance of this action as fitting into the larger context of the Holocaust.

The topic of representing the euthanasia victims cannot be fully recognized, but within this work it has been insinuated.

195

ii. Via Lewandowsky – “Sie können nichts schreien hören” (1989/90)293

1963 in Dresden geboren, mit drei Jahren ein Auge verloren, seither den Künsten verschworen. Ergo: Niemand entkommt ungeschoren. Durs Grünbein, 1997294

Art in the former East Germany played an important cultural role to display the reality of everyday life, but also to work through the recent German past (Stecker A2251). While the most popular themes in the socialist country were “Schönheit, Harmonie, leichte Verständlichkeit, höchstens ein wenig sachte Kritik, die niemals die Grundfesten der Dogmen angriff295” (ibid), the inclusion of the themes of pain and sorrow were considered to be ugly, and not aesthetic themes to be included in the visual arts. Dresden-born artist Via Lewandowsky belonged to a rank of artists in the DDR who attempted to push the boundaries.

Through the mediums of painting, sculpture, and live spoken-word and installation art,

“Via Lewandowsky brach in der DDR Tabus, indem er sich stark sozial und politisch besetzten

Themen widmete, und brachte diese in die Kunst ein. Er arbeitete mit Mitteln, die nicht zum sozialistischen Kunstkanon gehörten. Damit reflektiert er auch Fragen der Wahrnehmung.”296

(Stecker A2253) Lewandowsky has worked closely with the poet Durs Grünbein, and common themes in Lewandowsky’s art include “die Formung des Menschen durch Erziehung, Drill und

293293 Figures 60-63 included with permission of V. Lewandowsky 294 Via Lewandowsky website. 295 “beauty, harmony, light intelligibility, at most gentle criticism which never offended the foundations of the dogmas.” [my translation] 296 “Via Lewandowsky broke taboos in the GDR by devoting himself to strongly social and politically driven topics, and integrating these into art. He worked with media that did not belong to the socialist art canon. He thereby reflected on questions of perception.” [my translation]

196

Training, die Optimierung des Körpers, der Tod im Zeitalter des industriellen Massensterbens und –tötens, Eugenik beziehungsweise Genetik, Krankheit und Gesundheit, Sterben und

Selbstmord”297 (ibid). While generally considered to be radical in his thoughts, in a written conversation with Via Lewandowsky, he spoke to the fact that his commentary from 1989, might be less politically driven today.

Heute würde ich vermutlich nicht wieder derart schwere Metaphern heranziehen, um meinen Widerwillen gegen eine solche Staatsform zu beschreiben. Im Augenblick des Weggehens, noch traumatisiert von den Erfahrungen, wäre mir jedoch jedes andere Bild zu klein erschienen.298 (Lewandowsky personal email)

Lewandowsky, himself a victim of an injury which blinded his right eye, has been more than once connected to the theme of Nazi euthanasia299. In her commentary of Lewandowsky’s collection, Heidi Stecker comments:

Es bleibt nichts übrig – von den Menschen, die das nationalsozialistische Regime vernichtete, verbrannte, es gab für sie keine Erinnerung. Das ritualisierte Gedenken in der DDR schloss bestimmte Opfergruppen lange Zeit aus, Juden, Sinti und Roma, Homosexuelle, Zeugen Jehovas und eben Opfer der Euthanasie. Auf diese Weise gedenkt Lewandowsky ihrer.300 (Stecker A2252)

297 “the formation of the human by upbringing, drills and training, the optimization of the body, death in the age of industrial widespread deaths and killings, eugenics, more specifically genetics, sickness and health, death and suicide.” [my translation] 298 “Today, I would presumably not call on such grave metaphors again, to describe my indisposition to such form of government. At the moment of departure, still traumatized by the experiences, any other picture would have seemed too small.” [my translation] 299 One of Lewandowsky’s connections to the theme of Aktion T4 remembrance is his memorial proposal to Pirna- Sonnenstein. The committee awarded the prize to Heike Ponwitz – see previous section in this chapter. 300 “Northing remains – of the people that the National Socialist regime annihilated, burnt. There was no specific memento for them. For a long time the ritualized commemoration in the GDR excluded specific victim groups; Jews, Romani peoples, homosexuals, Jehovah’s Witnesses, and likewise victims of euthanasia. By this means Lewandowsky commemorates them.” [my translation]

197

Through his art, Lewandowsky attempted to shed light on the

previously taboo theme of Nazi euthanasia in East Germany,

despite the fact that many of the guilty parties were still active in

the medical community.

His 1989 collection “Sie können nichts schreien hören”

Figure 60: Lewandowsky “Die Schädigung ging bis (Acht Portaits zur Euthanasie) represents an important foray into zum Kern.“ the theme of euthanasia. It was displayed at the Neue

Gesellschaft für bildene Kunst gallery in Berlin301, and has become part of the permanent

collection at the Berlinische Galerie (Lewandowsky, 2009). This series is a radical exploration

of strong social and political themes that were unmentionable in East Germany, and went against

the artistic dogma of what was traditionally regarded as ‘beauty’ and what was deemed to be an

appropriate subject in the DDR art canon.

While the use of the word Euthanasie in the subtitle of this exhibition suggests a strong

connection to the murders of Aktion T4, Lewandowsky admits to a second metaphor within the

paintings. In personal correspondence with the artist he confirmed also a political commentary

of the inability to speak out in East German society302. This statement, combined with the more

301 The collection was later displayed in 1992 at the Power Plant gallery in Toronto. Although it is listed in their official catalogue for that year, they have no record of this display, or a catalogue in the archives. 302 “Die Ausstellung "Sie können nichts schreien hören - Acht Porträts zur Euthanasie" habe ich im November 1989 in der NBGK in Berlin eröffnet. Nur wenige Tage nachdem die Mauer gefallen war. Für mich war das die Abrechnung mit der DDR, aus der ich im Spätsommer weggegangen bin. Der Titel der Ausstellung benutzt die Referenz des Begriffes im doppelten Sinne. Das Regime, der Unterdrückungsstaat, aus dem ich gerade geflohen war, verhielt sich derart repressiv gegenüber seinen Bürgern, dass man von einem Zustand der politischen Vernichtung Andersdenkender sprechen konnte. Das "ungesunde Denken", das subversive, regimekritische Denken wurde mit allen Mitteln bekämpft. Andererseits ließen sich viele auf die und das Betäuben ein, da es sich ja gut in einem Zustand der politischen Narkose leben ließ. Da setzt der Vergleich zum ursprünglichen Begriff, der durch das Altertum eher positiv besetzt ist, an.” (Lewandowsky, email dated June 16, 2009) (“I opened the exhibit „Sie können nichts schreien hören“ in November 1989 in the NBGK in Berlin. Only days after the wall had come down. For me this was the reckoning with the GDR which I had left in the late summer. The title of the

198 obvious association to Aktion T4, makes this collection worthy of study as an example of a dissident memorialization of National Socialist euthanasia victims.

“Sie können nichts schreien hören” consists of eight 130 x 110 cm pieces303. The collection focuses on eight different men, some in contorted poses, disfigurement, or in various positions of torture. With the sole concentration of the faces and upper bodies of these men with no background, there is no historical context in which to place the men in Lewandowsky’s paintings, and thus one may read them as injured WWI veterans, victims of Aktion T4, and simultaneously Lewandowsky’s aforementioned second intended reading of oppressed East

German voices. Since several of the paintings (“Der zu einer glücklichen Stunde geborene”,

“Rede und Antwort”) make direct reference to early medical practices that were formerly used to treat people with mental disabilities, there a strong connection between these paintings and the theme of Nazi euthanasia, and thus they can be viewed as a representation of Aktion T4 victims.

The material composition and form of the paintings is worthy of analysis. Not only do the images of the men cause discomfort in the viewer due to the Figure 61: Lewandowsky "Es ist Zeit"

exhibition used the reference of the term in an ambiguous way. The regime, the repression state, from which I had just fled, behaved so repressively towards its citizens that you could speak of a condition of political extermination of dissentients. The “unhealthy thinking“, the subversive, dissident thinking was fought by all available means. On the other hand many got themselves into phasing and a sense of numbing, since it was comfortable living in a state of political narcosis. So ensues the term [euthanasia], which had had a rather positive connotation since the ancient times.” [my translation] 303 These are entitled:“Es ist Zeit”, “Rede und Antwort”, “Gefallen sind die Würfel”, “Es bleibt nichts übrig”, “Der zu einer glücklichen Stunde geborene”, “Die Schädigung ging bis zum Kern”, “Man sieht, daß es nie zu Hause ankommen wird”, and “Was willst du mehr”.

199 grotesque nature of the men, the works contain a further unpleasant, and distancing element, in that they are each covered in urine. The use of urine, an unconventional artistic medium, is unpleasant and absurd, and it symbolizes the absurdity and grotesqueness of the experiments and conditions of the patients murdered as part of Aktion T4. Stecker also alludes to a further use of urine as a nod to the practice of urination of people as a means of torture during

(Stecker A2253). It should also be stated that the use of urine in these paintings is concentrated on each of the subjects’ head regions. The significance of this bodily location symbolizes the utmost in human degradation.

While each painting features a different man in a unique scenario, there are several commonalities, which are clearly apparent in all eight pieces. The central emphasis of each is on the male ‘victim’. Only in two of the paintings, “Rede und Antwort” and “Gefallen sind die

Würfel” does the viewer catch a glimpse of a hand, arm of fingers of the person inflicting the pain. This exclusion of the ‘perpetrator’ in Lewandowsky’s art can be equated to the omission and neglecting of seeking justice for the perpetrators in the medical community after the war.

The victim is therefore the true intended subject of these paintings. Lewandowsky therefore focuses attention back to the victim, and identifying Germans as victims, and brings a voice to a victim group that previously did not have one.

The paintings do, however, run dangerously close to being dehumanizing, and can also be considered to be voyeuristic. As the sole image that dominates the paintings, they are reminiscent of the objectification of people with mental and physical disabilities that was performed in degenerate art exhibits in the 1930s. Whereas the original photographs in the early

National Socialist period were intended to be used as propaganda to encourage public support for eugenics and showcase the people with disabilities as grotesque, Lewandowsky’s diverges art

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from artefact through his commentary in urine. The use of this material enabled the paintings to

be a critique on society, and thus the works are not to be considered to be a form of prejudice or

mockery, which is, as discussed in the introduction, something which is to be avoided according

to disability study scholars. Here Lewandowsky incorporates these disturbing images to shock

the viewer to question their significance. These figures cannot defend or speak for themselves,

so Lewandowsky is giving them a voice. As mentioned, normally a nondisabled person speaks

out for the disabled. With Lewandowsky’s own vision limitations, he could relate more to the

subject matter, and more easily represent disability.

Three paintings can be identified as significant commentaries on the memorialization of

Aktion T4 and National Socialist euthanasia. The first painting in the collection, “Es ist Zeit” [“It

is time”] (Figure 61), can be viewed as perhaps the most innocent of the paintings, and as a

representation of the start of persecution of those with disabilities. A wooden object, perhaps the

top of a crutch, can be barely seen coming out of his left armpit. His eyes appear to be crossed

out, or at least closed, symbolizing the reluctance to

see the increasing negative aspects of eugenics and

later euthanasia. His head is passively bent forward,

and his stature is one of acceptance. In contrast to the

other paintings, there is a very minimal amount of

urine on “Es ist Zeit”, indicating a start to the Aktion

T4 programme.

“Es bleibt nichts übrig” (Figure 62) [“Nothing

remains”] is a commentary of the fact that nothing Figure 62: Lewandowsky "Es bleibt nichts übrig"

201 remains; be it the attempted erasure of a specific demographic of people, or that there no memory of them remaining in the memorialization culture for victims of Nazi euthanasia. The painting is also indicative of the silence surrounding the topic. This is the only piece where the viewer cannot see the man’s face. He has no mouth, and therefore cannot speak, and there is a silence to the figure. His posture, with head tilted down, and his arm inertly folded behind him, is not active. He has literately turned his back, and surrendered hope. The painting is then a representation of the loss of hope for the survival of the victims, and a commentary on society turning their back on the disabled peoples. Heidi Stecker provides another analysis of the painting, in which she draws a comparison between the title of this painting, and the theme of eating, and leaving nothing on one’s plate (Stecker A2252). This is an allusion to people with mental and physical disabilities who were often referred to as ‘useless eaters’ after WWI.

In the final painting, the titling of “Man sieht, daß es nie zu Hause ankommen wird”

(Figure 63) is significant as it dehumanizes the victims with the German neuter personal pronoun “es”. The person has now become just a thing, and thus less emotion is involved when exterminating. The title can also be associated to the fact that no one did come home from the six Aktion T4 euthanasia centres. The composition of the painting is also of importance. An odd instrument is attached to his face between his eyes, and he is forced into

one position to always look straight forward in one Figure 63: "Man sieht, daß es nie zu Hause angekommen wird" direction. There is no opportunity to turn around to look

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at the past, but he must continue looking forward. As such, this is a commentary that the

German society was forced to look ahead to rebuild the country, without looking back to certain

events in the past, and therefore there was an inability to memorialize them. He has no mouth to

speak against this need to look forward. The man is also missing his body, which indicates that

although he is going forward, part of him is now absent.

Via Lewandowsky’s collection is vital as a breakthrough in memorialization in the

victims of Nazi euthanasia. Created in 1989 just shortly after the fall of the Berlin Wall, “Sie

können nichts schreien können” was an exhibition that brought attention and a voice to a

forgotten victim group. The works highlight an overlooked period of National Socialist history,

and places it in context with the silence and inability to discuss and recognize people with mental

and physical disabilities as an official victim group in the former East Germany. The fact that

the paintings remain part of a gallery collection ensures that they will be firmly placed in a

continual memorialization process.

iii. Adelheid Niepold – “Den Toten ohne Begräbnis” (2003)

The German-born Belgian artist is one of the few examples of an artist who confronts the

topic of Aktion T4 and

National Socialist euthanasia in

an extremely candid manner.

Her exhibition “Den Toten

ohne Begräbnis” was shown in

the temporary gallery at the

Pirna-Sonnenstein memorial Figure 64: Niepold "Höhlengleichnis"

203 site from January 27 to April 21, 2003. This artistic project is a result of Niepold’s confrontation and emotional response to the death of artist Elfriede Lohse-Wächtler304 at

Sonnenstein as a victim of Aktion T4. Niepold was strongly influenced by Lohse-Wächtler’s fate, her visit to the memorial site, and an encounter with the Dresden filmmaker Heide Blum

(Böhm 2003).

After many years of artistic development on this project, Den Toten functions for the most part as an homage to Elfriede Lohse-Wächtler, but also “allen anderen an diesem Ort ermordeten Menschen Aufmerksamkeit und Beachtung zukommen zu lassen” (Gedenkstätte

Pirna-Sonnenstein, 5)305. The work of Niepold therefore serves as a “Sprachrohr der Opfer, die ohne Begräbnis geblieben sind”306 (ibid). It is thereby her intention to bring attention to the forgotten victims through her art.

Niepold used various mediums in this exhibition.

Monotypes, acrylic and oil painting, and photography, which was often digitized to create an abstract view of reality, are all extensively used in the collection. “Den

Toten ohne Begräbnis” is comprised of various forms: nonfigurative abstract art or sketches, such as the quadriptych “concentration I / II / III / IV”, “Unerwünschte Figure 65: Niepold "letzte Reinigung" [last cleansing]

Kinder”, and “Sonnenglut”, figurative art that focuses on the theme of Aktion T4 in general, such

304 Elfriede Lohse-Wächtler (1899 – 1940) was a Dresden born expressionist painter, and part of Dresden’s “1919 Succession Group”, along with artist Otto Dix. Her works were labeled “degenerate art” but the Nazis. Her first nervous breakdown occurred in 1929 and she was committed to a Hamburg psychiatric institution, which also provided her with inspiration for nearly sixty drawings of psychiatric patients. After being formally diagnosed with schizophrenia in 1932, she was forcibly sterilized. In 1940, she was sent to Pirna-Sonnenstein, were she was murdered on July 31st. (http://www.lohse-waechtler.com/ ) 305 “to devote attention and recognition to all the other people who were killed at this site” [my translation] 306 “mouthpiece for the victims, who remain unburied.” [my translation]

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as “Die Umarmung”, “Dogma”, “In den Händen der Gewalt”, and “Schlachtopfer”, and the final

set, which draw a strong association with Pirna-Sonnenstein in particular, such as “Der

Mauerläufer” and “letzte Reinigung”. Religious symbols, circles, and screaming mouths are also

common themes throughout this exhibition. The open mouths are in this manner symbolic of

Niepold being vocal through her art to bring attention to these victims.

Two pieces warrant further analysis for their effect on the

viewer. “ „ …mit bitterem Schmerz verspürt mein Herz…”

Elfriede Lohse-Wächtler” is a haunting acrylic piece that focuses

on the profile of a forlorn Lohse-Wächtler (Figure 66). A

glowing red, a reference to the flames of the cremation oven, is

engulfing the figure from the lower right corner, and only her face

and shoulders remain visible in the painting. While it has been

noted that “es reicht nicht aus, nur das persönliche Leid der

Kunstlerin zu zeigen und mitzutrauern”307, Niepold hereby gives

Figure 66: Niepold "... mit bitterem Schmerz the suffering of the victims a ‘face’, a spokeswoman for their fate. verspürt mein Herz ..." By making a personal connection through this painting between

the fate of the famous artist, and the other victims of Sonnenstein, it raises feelings of empathy in

the viewer. For now one can make historical and emotional connection between, and it makes it

thus easier to relate, with a human connection. It is no longer an unknown victim, but a famous

artist. By giving a name and historical link to the human atrocities, this piece also functions as a

memorial. The image of Lohse-Wächtler dominates the canvas and thus signifies that she has

merit to be the central figure, and is warranted of receiving attention and being remembered.

307 “it doesn’t suffice to only show and mourn the personal suffering of the artist” [my translation]

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Niepold does perpetuate the notion that these victims were helpless. Lohse-Wächtler is painted with downcast eyes, and a passive expression. She is not fighting against her fate, but accepting it.

“Höhlengleichnis” is a work which is capable of evoking strong emotion (Figure 58).

This is a digital photograph, which has been drastically altered in an attempt to stimulate a reaction in the viewer. The colour red, again as a likely metaphor for the burning in the crematory ovens, is a dominant theme, as it is for many of the works in this collection. The location of the photograph is the cellar rooms of Haus 16 where the murders took place, thus making a strong connection to Sonnenstein and the memorial centre there. The photograph was taken from just outside of the door to the former gas chamber, and it follows of the perspective of the corridor leading towards the cremation ovens. In what was once the corpse room, several dark elongated figures, presumably bodies, have been lifelessly juxtaposed onto the ground.

The photograph has been distorted in a widening of the frame, and this evokes a sense of

‘pulling apart’, or separation. As such, the work produces a sensation of unease, both in the widened perspective, and the eerie combination of the colours blood red and black. There is also a discord in time in this photo. The photograph of the barren rooms is a modern view of

Sonnenstein, with an absence of any historical markers such as the actual gas chamber or cremation ovens. This is then contrasted with the images of the ‘bodies’, which are to be associated with the National Socialist murders. There is thus a distortion in this photograph of a mixture of past and present. This amalgamation of time evokes a sensation that the past is again present, and warns that it could happen again.

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The piece also makes a commentary on the memorialization process. The ‘pulling’ nature of the photograph does not provide a static image, but rather one that is in motion, similar to the memory work that still continues. Adelheid Niepold agrees that in a photograph such as

“Höhlengleichnis”, “dass die Schuldzuweisung nicht genügt. Es muss eine Auseinandersetzung mit dem Bewußtsein des Menschen gefordert werden” (Gedenkstätte Sonnenstein, 6)308.

“Höhlengleichnis” should be commended for its attempt to raise questions about Aktion T4, and

Sonnenstein specifically, without drawing a sense of guilt. In this photograph it is a pulling apart of the past in order to work through it in the present. The collection of pieces also mirrors trends in memorialization of Aktion T4 in other mediums, such as museums and monuments, as well.

The time period in which the works were produced was a time in which there was a more open dialogue about Aktion T4 and memorializing its victims. Niepold has confronted the topic so frankly, and this corresponds to changes in social acceptance of the subject. As a German living in , Niepold has taken more liberty to depict German suffering so clearly.

C. Avoiding Trivializing Memory

The visual representation of Aktion T4 memorialization offers the unique prospect to bring said topic to a larger audience. The artists and monument creators in this chapter have attempted to shed light on an otherwise forgotten topic. While history and historical accounts of this event can ‘remember’ the victims of Aktion T4, but it is through the mediums of monuments and visual art that one can begin to work through the trauma of these murders. These visual examples also function as a lens in which to view changes in society’s perception of not only

Aktion T4, but also disability in general.

308 “that the assignment of guilt is not enough. An examination with the human consciousness has to be demanded.” [my translation]

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An important aspect of these forms of memorialization is that they need an audience.

The monuments and art can easily function as memorials for the victims, but they need to be read by the viewer in order to ascertain the intended meaning. The very notion that monuments and art are housed in public spaces ensures that they are not hidden away in private domains. The fact that debates and controversy often surround the erection and installation of said memorials, can be viewed positively as bringing further attention to a topic which was for so long overlooked.

The examples analyzed here have made great effort not to perpetuate negative stereotypes of disability, which, as discussed, often results in the viewer avoiding the topic. The topic of

Aktion T4, and the memorialization of its victims, is often included in these visual examples in an implicit manner, which allows for the German society to interact with the memorials, and work through the trauma. By making the memorials accessible and often interactive, people will be able to learn from the past events, in an attempt to not repeat history.

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Chapter 4: From the Schubladen to the Buchladen: A Sustained Silence in Literary

Representations of Aktion T4

“How should one write, what words should one select, what forms and structures and organization if one is pursuing understanding?” James, Preface

“The journey from documentation to art, from the gross horrors of the Holocaust to their imaginative realization in literature, is a devious and disconnected one, full of unexpected detours through terrain scarcely surveyed by earlier critical maps.” Langer, 31

In his 1999 work, Luftkrieg und Literatur, W.G. Sebald identifies the notable absence of the topic of death and destruction resulting from the air raid bombings of World War in German literature. He acknowledges the difficulty in representing the concept of German suffering in connection to these bombings, and identifies such representation as taboo (Sebald 83). The complexity of including the theme of German suffering resulted in a relative absent in literature, apart from a few select examples that Sebald recognizes. This phenomenon of the absence of representation in literature can also be found in the literary memorialization of the topic of

National Socialist euthanasia and Aktion T4. The lack of representation of the topic of Aktion

T4 is not unique to the field of literature, but is keeping with memorialization trends in mediums such as monument creation, art, and site museums. It is not to say that there is a complete absence of the representation of Aktion T4 in literature, but that there are relatively few examples of its inclusion. It is important to examine the significance and purpose of including

209 the topic of Nazi euthanasia and Aktion T4 in literature, as an alternate means of memorialization to those discussed in previous chapters.

The representation of Aktion T4 in literature faces an intrinsic bifurcation, in that it is both literature about the Holocaust and it is literature which includes the topic of disability. It is thus an entanglement of two challenging topics for the reader. The pragmatic ‘nervousness’ of confronting disability is thus compounded with the debates of the representing of Germans as victims, while at the same time also perpetrators.

Moving away from first generation Holocaust scholars, who placed “primary emphasis on establishing evidence – facts, proofs – rather than on literary or aesthetic representation”

(Franklin 3), literature now focuses on imparting sentiment, over information. Literature thus moves away from the academic or realist approach, to explore a more mystical rendering

(Franklin 4). Literature about the Holocaust must carefully straddle the realms of historical fact and imaginative truth (Langer 8). Ruth Franklin also concedes that “every canonical work of

Holocaust literature involves some graying of the line between fiction and reality” (Franklin 11).

This aspect of literature being a gray zone between fact and fiction allows for an alternative means of memorialization for Aktion T4. Whereas images relating to the Holocaust are often deemed too brutal and can be too complex to comprehend, literature offers a different medium for reflection. Franklin states, “We need literature about the Holocaust not only because testimony is inevitable incomplete, but because of what literature uniquely offers: an imaginative access to past events, together with new and different ways of understanding them that are unavailable to strictly factual forms of writing” (Franklin 13). History is thus being manipulated in order to function as a means to work though the absolute trauma in another more abstract approach, as well as elicit certain emotions within the reader. Literature thus offers an

210 alternative form of representation. One that can meld together the worlds of fact and fiction, truth and imagination in an attempt to work through the trauma of Aktion T4.

The representation of Aktion T4 memorialization in literature also fundamentally includes the topic of disability. As discussed in the Introduction, literature which includes the topic of people with disabilities has oft been a contentious topic. Characters with disabilities generally fall into stereotypical categories. Disability scholar Tom Shakespeare has identified three distinct categories of the representation of disability in literature: the tragic but brave invalid (Tiny Tim), the sinister cripple (Dr. No), or the ‘supercrip’ (Helen Keller) (Shakespeare

166). These characters serve a particular function in the plot, whether to offer a life lesson309, be a villain or victim, or humourous ‘sidekick’. Rarely is a disabled person identified as a hero

(Baskin and Harris 14). Often in literature there is an illustration of the belief that the physical body is a direct reflection of the unseen qualities of a person (ibid 20). This notion is perpetuated in various forms of literature such as fairy tales310 and classic literature, such as

Shakespeare’s Richard III or Hugo’s The Hunchback of Notre Dame. Depicting a character with a disability therefore holds a specific meaning.

Ato Quayson succinctly provides a more detailed typology of disability representation in literature:

1. Disability as null set and /or moral test 2. Disability as the interface with otherness (race, class, and social identity) 3. Disability as articulation of disjuncture between thematic and narrative vectors 4. Disability as bearer of moral deficit/evil 5. Disability as epiphany 6. Disability as signifier of ritual insight 7. Disability as inarticulable and enigmatic tragic insight 8. Disability as hermeneutical impasse

309 This was especially relevant in Victorian literature, where disability was included as an educational tool. (Baskin and Harris, Quayson, and Quicke) 310 Here we have the classic notion of the beautiful Princess and handsome Prince contrasted with the ugly, disfigured evil witch.

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9. Disability as normality (Quayson 52)

Several of the works discussed in this chapter can be associated with some of these categories.

Most evident is the use of disability to teach a moral lesson, and including a character with a disability to perpetuate the social “differentness” of those with a disability. Disability as normality is also evident in the characters who are readily accepted into society, despite their impairment. While the aforementioned typology can loosely be applied to the literature representing Aktion T4, and some of the characters do possess traits highlighted in Quayson’s typology, the characters do not succinctly fit into these categorizations. Due to the fact that the disabled characters in these novels also serve a memorial factor, they are not easily classified into these nine categories. Thus a tenth category much be created; “Disability as memorialization”. These characters are created not only to challenge representation of disability, but they also challenge the ways in which we represent Aktion T4. Their very existence raises questions as to the gray zone between representing victims and perpetrators, the memorialization practices of Aktion T4 and WWII, and German public perceptions about WWII memory work and disability.

It has been argued that the cultural representation of disability in literature mirrors daily life (Couser 17). As apparent from examples in previous chapters, there has been a general avoidance and lack of confronting disability in other mediums, and it follows that there has been an underrepresentation of disability in literature. This phenomenon of avoidance is termed by

Ato Quayson to be “aesthetic nervousness”. He defines this as “seen when the dominant protocols of representation within the literary text are short-circuited in relation to disability”

(Quayson 15). On one level this can be detected in the interaction between the disabled and non-

212 disabled characters (Quayson forthcoming 9), but should also include the relationship between reader and text (ibid).

The reader’s status within a given text is a function of the several interacting elements such as provided by the identification with the vicissitudes of the life of a particular character, or in the alignment between the reader and the shifting positions of the narrator, or in the necessary reformulations of the reader’s perspective enjoined by the modulation of various plot elements. (Quayson forthcoming 10)

As such, the textual function must go beyond a “cathartic prosthesis to the non-disabled reader or viewer” (ibid)311. Therefore, the reading of the disabled character thus projects prejudices and social conditioning within the reader. The inclusion of a disabled character should then compel the reader to challenge their own and societal concepts of disability.

This evasion of the topic of disability in literature is deemed almost natural, as there are common emotions of embarrassment, fear, and confusion when viewing and discussing people with disabilities (Quayson 19). It is important to remember that however strongly a connection is made between literature and its reflection of the social changes of people with disabilities, literature in fact subtends real-life treatment of those with disabilities (Quayson 30). Therefore literature can be seen as a lens in which to view the topic of disability in society, but it is not to be considered an ultimate equivalent.

What is interesting to note in these literary examples discussed in this chapter, particularly in connection to texts written about the later Holocaust, is that literature about

Aktion T4 is completely devoid of survivor or witness testimony, or any autobiographies, as there were no survivors of the action. We must therefore rely on second generation authors, or those completely removed from the subject, who have chosen to write about something to which they are themselves not directly connected. This degree of separation can be detected in several

311 This textual prosthesis is a feeling of comfort developed in the reader when the disabled character is able to triumph over their impairment.

213 of the books that include the topic of Aktion T4, whether for the purpose of education or in a purely literary function. A self-exploration or personal working through of the past can be found only in self-published accounts of family members who lost loved ones. No examples of perpetrator literature have been published to date312.

A. From Die Blechtrommel to Kindheitsmuster: Early Examples of Aktion T4 in Literature

The topic of National Socialist euthanasia and Aktion T4 has not been completely absent from German literature. Rather, akin to Sebald’s limited examples of the air raid bombings being included in literature, there were relatively few examples of the inclusion of the topic of

Nazi euthanasia in German literature between the years 1946 and 1989. It is, however, possible to identify limited waves of memorialization and exploration of the topic during that time period.

As mirrored in other mediums of Aktion T4 memorialization, the period of the late 1950s and

1960s represented a period of limited examination of the topic in popular culture, and a sense of silence surrounding the topic persisted. It was however, that during this time of the most complex negotiations of the topic of Aktion T4 was produced in literature.

Published in the 1958 compilation, Eine Rechnung, die nicht aufgeht, Wolfdietrich

Schnurre’s short story, Freundschaft mit Adam [Friendship with Adam] is an example of a literary text which addresses the topic of Aktion T4 in a very direct manner. While the story does not so much focus on the murders of Aktion T4 per se, it does highlight the treatment of people with disabilities. The young and healthy Bruno is “curious” about the people in the institution and desires to be around his new disabled friend Adam, despite the fact that Bruno’s father has banned him from returning to the Anstalt. Bruno views the institution and his visits with Adam as an escape from his home life and his father’s Nazi colleagues. Although Adam is

312 In 2005 journalist Jürgen Schreiber wrote Ein Maler aus Deutschland about the artist . Schreiber revealed a family history in that Richter’s father-in-law was responsible for forced sterilizations, which included Richter’s own aunt.

214 said to scare the whole region of Prenzlauer Berg with his ‘craziness’, Bruno is attracted to his childlike peacefulness. While the doctor is depicted as being tired, pale, with an empty face, and the attendant’s eyes are full of hate, Adam is in sharp contrast being a soft, quiet individual, whose room becomes the centre of Bruno’s world (Schnurre 154). At the end of the story Adam is forcibly taken away from the institution. Schnurre does not distinguish if the reason for

Adam’s deportation was for the fact that he was Jewish, or because he was disabled. It is clear, however, that there is a sense that Adam needs to be protected from the SA men who come for him. Because the doctor is also Jewish, it can be assumed that Adam needs protection because he is disabled. There is also a strong connection to death throughout the story, in that the institution is located directly beside a cemetery, which is alluded to several times within the text.

With a disabled protagonist, Freundschaft mit Adam unmistakably includes the topic of the treatment of those with disabilities in German society. Schnurre’s narrator writes that a goal of the Wednesday outing from the institution was to show how friendly and nice the people in the community were to those with disabilities (Schnurre 146). But also included is the reality that those with disabilities could also be mistreated by their families, exemplified by the fact that

Adam’s father continuously tried to make Adam change, and he thought of his son as “wrong”.

In the end the father abandons child, stating that “ich selber schaff es nicht” (Schnurre 156)313.

He thereby transfers the responsibility of looking after his son to the young Bruno. In following

Quayson’s typography, the character of Adam is used to examine the moral and ethical actions of other characters. Through Adam, the reader is made aware of the stress of familial relations during the time of Aktion T4, and that family members were not able or not willing to look after their own disabled kin. Schnurre includes the aspect of the ethics of guilt and responsibility through the character of Adam.

313 “I myself can’t hack it” [my translation]

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Published in 1959, Günter Grass’ novel, Die Blechtrommel [The Tin Drum], functions as both a mouthpiece and mirror for German society (Poore 193). The protagonist in this picaresque novel is Oskar Matzerath, and he functions as both the implied author and often unreliable narrator, who alternatively switches from first to third personal narration. Throughout the novel, Oskar imparts his history, beginning with his grandparents, and ending on his thirtieth birthday. The work must be considered to be a Schelmenroman; a work of prose fiction which is rich with satire and is generally narrated by a roguish hero. In following the tradition of this narrative form, Oskar is detached from the everyday world, and as such is able to comment on the actions and events surrounding him with candor and honesty, and with an ironic view of his own history. He is an observer of life, and also a dry commentator. Oskar is also a self-imposed dwarf, who, after throwing himself down a staircase at the age of three, purposely stops growing.

As such, this character challenges societal body norms, challenges the politics of the National

Socialists, and reflects on society and culture in Germany, and more specifically the intergenerational conflicts of the 1968er movement.

Oskar defies the traditional model of “disability” as he has in fact personally chosen to stop growing and become a dwarf at the age of three, and as such challenges traditional notion of the representation of disability. By transforming this notion of what it means to be disabled,

Grass turns the tables on what society deems as ‘disabled’, as he wrests the power away from accepted societal notions of disability, to return the power to the individual. While Disability

Studies scholars such as Hamilton purport that the character of Oskar cannot be viewed as a metaphor for disability (Hamilton 230), as the power of the character lies not so much in the representation of disability, but as a shedding light on the problem of the construction of disability in society. Oskar challenges the society who deems him to be disabled. Grass includes

216 this character and his assumed deformity to explore questions of what society deemed as ‘normal vs. disabled’, which resulted in deadly outcomes in Nazi society. It can also be argued that

Oskar serves a secondary function as a representation of the second generation after the war who were ‘disfigured’ and ‘marred’ by the actions of their parents, and more specifically by their fathers who ‘deformed’ society in Germany.

Because of Oskar’s disability, and his small stature as a dwarf, he is better able to critique the world around him as an outsider. “Da gelang mir damals eine Position, die aufzugeben ich keine Veranlassung hatte. Da sagte, da entschloß ich mich, da beschloß ich, [...] vielmehr einen

Punkt zu machen, und so verbleiben – und ich blieb so, hielt mich in dieser Größe [...]“ (Grass

67314). Oskar wills himself to remain stasis in his growth development, not to emphasise those with authentic disabilities, but rather not to be forced to live as a grown up (Grass 67). Oskar is very aware that his lack of growth will cause some distress amongst adults, and that they might consider him to be “retarded” (Grass 61). This awareness is indicative of the fact that he is mentally astute enough to create a possible creditable reason for his stunted development, by blaming his lack of growth on the fall down the stairs. Oskar’s perceived control over his disability is also clearly apparent towards the end of the Second Book in the Chapter “Soll ich oder soll ich nicht?” [“Should I or Shouldn’t I?”]. After the death of his presumed father Alfred

Matzerath, Oskar consciously decides to discard his childhood drum, and he once again begins to grow. It was not a case of if he should or should not commence to grow, but that “it must be”

(Grass 504). After the death of his Matzerath, he no longer needed to be a dwarf to make a direct commentary on the involvement of his father and the previous generation in the war, and as such

314 “It was in this picture that I first arrived at a decision which I have had no reason to alter. It was then that I declared, resolved, and determined [...] that I would stop right there, remain as I was – and so I did [...]” (trans. Grass 60)

217 he could return to live life in a more societally deemed ‘normal’ state. However, being a dwarf for this specific period of time has allowed Oskar to better be viewed as an outsider who can comment on society. His function as an ‘outsider’ and his character’s strong metaphor as a vehicle in which to examine the conflict between generations in German society, are worthy of further examination within this chapter.

As with other literary examples, this text can illuminate trends in the perception of disability at the time in which it was written. Oskar is cognisant of public perceptions about his disability, and the dangers of being regarded as disabled, and is at times, treated with some prejudice, which is an authentic reflection of attitudes in Germany at the time. The segregation, and the dangers of being sent from the institution to certain death though Aktion T4, are included on two occasions. His stepmother and lover Maria treats the little boy with kindness “obgleich das Oskarchen nicht ganz klar im Kopf ist und eigentlich nach Silberhammer gehört oder nach

Tapiau in die Anstalt” (Grass 352)315. However this kindness changes after a fight, and Oskar describes that “[Maria] nannte mich eine verfluchte Drecksau, einen Giftzwerg, einen

übergeschnappten Gnom, den man in die Klappsmühle stecken müsse” (Grass 357)316.

Although Die Blechtrommel does contain elements of magic realism and the surreal,

Grass himself contends that “Die Blechtrommel ist zu allererst ein realistischer Roman317” (qtd. in White 90), and as such historical lessons about the National Socialists and the history and culture of Germany at this time can be gleaned from the text. At the same time Grass challenges

WWII memorialization through the character of Oskar. As a dwarf, Oskar Matzerath “exhibits

315 “even if little Oskar isn’t quite right in the head and actually belongs in the nuthouse in Silberhammer or Tapiau” (trans. Grass 287) 316 “[Maria] called me a loathsome pig, a vicious midget, a crazy gnome, that ought to be chucked in the nuthouse” (trans. Grass 290). 317 “The Tin Drum is firstly a realistic novel” (White 90)

218 all of the abnormal characteristics that, under National Socialism, would logically mandate his death” (Hamilton 229). Oskar is able to survive the National Socialist rule, through help from his father, who actually staunchly supports the Nazi party, and thus Grass further creates a blurring of the lines between the historical reality of the fate of those which such a visually obvious disability, and the fictional character of Oskar. As discussed in Chapter 1, after increased propaganda and the 1934 Gesetz zur Verhütung erbkranken Nachwuchses some families willingly sent their kin to the gassing institutions or allowed them to be selected by the central office in Berlin. Without directly naming Aktion T4, Grass does include historical details, such as the registration letters for persons with disabilities. After Oskar runs away, Maria questions him.

“Wo warst nur, überall ham wä jesucht, und de Polizei hat auch jesucht wie varückt, und vor Jericht mußten wir und beeidigen, daß wir dir nich über Eck jebracht hätten. Na, nu biste ja da. Aber Scherereien hattes jenug jemacht und wirtes wohl noch machen, denn nu missen wä dir wieder anmelden. Hoffentlich wolln se dir nich inne Anstalt stecken. Vädient hasste ja. Laifst davon un sagst nischt!” Maria bewies Weitblick. Es gab Scherereinen. Ein Beamter vom Gesundheitsministerium kam, sprach vertraulich mit Matzerath, aber Matzerath schrie laut, daß man es hören konnte: “Das kommt gar nicht in Frage, das habe ich meiner Frau am Totenbett versprechen müssen, ich bin der Vater und nicht die Gesundheitspolizei!” Ich kam also nicht in die Anstalt. Aber von jenem Tag an traf alle zwei Wochen ein amtliches Brieflein ein, das den Matzerath zu einer kleinen Unterschrift aufforderte: doch Matzerath wollte nicht unterschreiben, legte aber sein Gesicht in Sorgenfalten. (Grass 430)318

318 Maria: “We looked all over like mad; we even had to go to the police and swear we hadn’t done you in. Well, here you are and thank the Lord for that. But plenty of trouble you made us and there’s going to be a more, because now we’ve got to report you back again. I only hope they won’t put you in an institution. That’s what you deserve.” Maria was right. There was plenty of bother. A man came from the Ministry of Health and spoke to Matzerath in private, but Matzerath shouted so loud you could hear him all over the house; “It’s out of the question. I promised my wife on her deathbed. I’m his father, not the Board of Health. So I was not sent to an institution. But every two weeks an official letter came, asking Matzerath for a little signature; Matzerath refused to sign, but his forehead was creased with care.” (trans. Grass 346-7)

219

It is thus very clear that Oskar’s father was aware that there was a danger of signing away his son to the Ministry of Health or sending him to an institution. On several occasions it is Alfred who willfully defies the National Socialists’ orders to surrender his son (Grass 448). At the time of

Alfred’s death, Oskar is aware of what Alfred did for him. “Auch gab er mich nicht ans

Reichsgesundheitsministerium ab und unterschrieb den Brief erst, als keine Post mehr ausgetragen wurde” (Grass 502-3)319. By including the strong dichotomy of the father as a fervent Nazi supporter, while also the saviour and protector of his dwarf son, Grass has included a multifaceted character who follows in the overarching theme of the gray zone of the representation between perpetrator and victim.

Oskar himself is the epitome of the deep conflict between victim and perpetrator. The character questions the roles of both groups, and thereby asks who is guilty, who is innocent, and who can be both. This is especially important for the representation and memorialization of

Aktion T4 in that there is an intrinsic probing of the limits of guilt and innocence, and the combination of both together. On one hand Oskar is representative of a targeted victim group, and on the other hand he also has a connection to the Nazi party. Oskar does his best to assemble a Nazi uniform to become assimilated, to be even more visually aligned by the party.

Oskar is thus a Nazi supporter, when it suits him, and raises notions of involvement and participation in the Nazi party. This is a reflection of many in the German society who willingly went along with the Party, despite any dangers. It was discussed by his friend Bebra that it is better to hide in plain sight, than to hide away as a member of the audience (Grass 134). Oskar is also not representative of a typical Schelm or rogue. He is able to get away with more and comment more on society due to his childlike appearance, despite him being anything but

319 “He hadn’t turned me over to the Ministry of Public Health, and had signed the letter only after the mails had stopped running” (trans. Grass 405)

220 innocent. This characterization of the naughty dwarf allows the reader to question the role of pity and sympathy engendered towards the character. Unlike other disabled characters who evoke the feeling of sympathy on behalf of the reader, the character of Oskar resists it. The reader cannot pity him in a condescending way or as a null-set, in following with Quayson’s typology, but rather the reader must view him as both good and evil, as a fully capable individual. It is difficult to sympathize with him as a disabled character, which is something which has challenged scholars in Disability Studies.

The character of Oskar also raises questions of the representation of disability. Oskar takes ownership of his disability by claiming to be disabled. After throwing himself down the cellar stairs, he stops growing. Whether this stop in growth is a physiological or psychological result, Oskar is in control of his body. He also uses disability to his advantage, in that he can avoid responsibility and the entering into the dangers of the adult world during this time.

Hamilton argues that Oskar’s self-imposed disability could be representative of a resistance to

German fascism (Hamilton 231), in that he is blatantly putting himself in harm’s way by choosing to take on a disability. Despite raising awareness on the topic of disability, the stronger reading is that Oskar is more representative of raising questions of memorialization, and especially the intergenerational conflicts arising during the time period, as opposed to being a metaphor for the memorialization of people with disabilities.

Through the character of Oskar, Grass has thereby mobilized topic of memorialization in another direction. Oskar is not necessarily representative of physical deformed bodies, but as a vehicle to raise questions about the deformed German society that was left in the wake of WWII.

It is through the character of Oskar that Grass puts a different spin on memorialization. He allows for the questioning of the first generation’s involvement at a time when many of those

221 involved could not be questioned as they did not return home. The figure then of Matzerath can thereby be viewed as not only Oskar’s presumed father, but also as the fatherhood in general for a generation of people coming to terms with the past.

The climax of this struggle for a search for truth and justice occurs at the end of Book

Two. After seeking refuge in the cellar from the invading Russians, Oskar is playing with

Matzerath’s Nazi Party pin.

Aufgemacht wurde die Nadel erst in meiner geschlossenen Hand. Sperrig und stechend gab ich den klebenden Bonbon an Matzerath ab, damit die den Orden bei ihm finden konnten, damit er sich die Partei auf die Zunge legte, damit er daran erstickte – an der Partei, an mir, an seinem Sohn; denn das mußte ein Ende haben! (Grass 502)320 What transpires here is an Oedipal murdering of Matzerath on behalf of Oskar. It was Oskar who handed Alfred the pin, and through this instrument directly caused his death. The fact that

Oskar deliberately killed his father is indicative of a cruel poetic justice for the involvement of

Matzerath in the Nazi party. Grass has invented a character who can stand in for all German

‘fathers’, and his death in this scene represents a killing of the symbolic father. As the second generation often could not directly take action against their fathers and did not have the opportunity to seek revenge, the killing of Matzerath by his own kin is a displaced act of revenge and ownership of the past. Oskar was able to seek revenge and kill his father, while the German second generation was not. As such, Oskar is representative of the fantasy of patricide as an act of working through the past.

This text is important as a form of memorialization for Aktion T4 victims as it raises questions about the complexity of the innate gray zone in memorialization at the time of its

320 “The pin had been opened within my closed hand. It was a jagged, pointed lozenge that I had passed on to Matzerath, intending that they find the insignia on him, that he put the Party in his mouth and choke on it – on the Party, on me, his son; for this situation couldn’t go on forever.” (trans. Grass 404)

222 publication. By inventing a pivotal character who is a dwarf, Grass is establishing a means to begin to discuss the commemoration of this victim group, while challenging what it means to have a disability, and while also making Oskar a perpetrator321. As such, Grass introduces a dialogue on the gray zone of being both a victim and perpetrator. As White argues, “Grass’s novel, straddling realism and fantasy, goes beyond anything that can be achieved by purely realistic techniques” (White 91), and was in keeping with trends of memorialization in German society at the time, when the topic of the questioning of the second generation was being brought to the forefront of public discourse. The character of Oskar marks a decided change in the representation of people with disabilities, and also of the disabled outsider (Hamilton 223). He pushes the boundaries of what it means to have a disability, and does so in order to solidify himself as an outsider, and yet at times a Nazi insider, who can comment on society. For in this novel, Oskar is shown as a functioning member of society, despite his disability, and someone who defies certain death. It is through the character of Oskar that Günter Grass sheds light on the difficulties in memorialization and compels the reader to examine difficulties in memorialization, through presenting a series of dichotomies throughout the novel as Oskar firmly straddles the line child and adult, good and evil, victim and perpetrator, and holder of guilt and responsibility.

The topic of Aktion T4 was subtly included in Rolf Hochhuth’s 1963 play, Der

Stellvertreter322 [The Deputy], which examines religious aspects of Pope Pius XII’s neglect in

321 As such the character of Oskar is not so much a tool of memorialization for Aktion T4, but for the broader memorialization of other National Socialist crimes. This act of the allocation of the memorialization of Aktion T4 to the margins is in following with larger memorialization trends. Here the emphasis is on questioning the involvement and guilt and responsibility of the first generation, as opposed to an exploration of the topic of Aktion T4 and the representation of treatment of disability in Germany. 322 This play was the inspiration behind Costa-Gavras 2002 feature film Amen. The opening scene of this movie shows disabled people being transported in gray buses, which is more explicitly depicted in the movie than in Hochhuth’s play.

223 condemning the National Socialist’s actions. The inclusion of the representation of Aktion T4 as a subplot, and not as the focus of the text, is in keeping with trends in literature, and Holocaust memorialization in general. In the first two acts of this piece, Hochhuth makes several direct references to Aktion T4. On two occasions Bishop von Galen, who was outspoken against the euthanasia murders, is identified by name, and accredited with his outspokenness over the

Aktion T4 murders (Hochhuth 48, 81). “Sie fürchtete mit Recht die Münsteraner – was hätte das für ein Geschrei gegeben im Volk. Ich find’ es souverän vom Führer, daß e rim Krieg die

Gefühle der Religiösen schont.“323 (Act I, Scene II) The economic factor of caring for the disabled is also included. “Oh, es kostet die Volkswirtschaft allerhand, Herr Eichmann, daß wir die Geisteskranken weiterfüttern!“324 While it is apparent that the topic is included in these two instances, it is not a significant part of the plot, and at times the topic is merely alluded to in context with the greater plot. There are no disabled characters, and it is clearly evident that the focus of this Christian tragedy is to examine the church’s involvement, or lack thereof, in WWII.

The inclusion of Aktion T4 references merely enhances the historical facts of the piece, and reinforces the dominant premise that the representation of the Aktion T4 murders remained on the margins of discussion of National Socialist crimes.

Another example from this time period is Siegfried Lenz’s Deutschstunde, [The German

Lesson]. Published in 1968, Lenz focuses on a written exercise about “Die Freuden der Pflicht”

[the joys of duty], which serves as the protagonist’s autobiography during WWII, and can be viewed as a Vergangenheitsbewältigung novel that examines growing up in the Nazi time period.

This novel makes two overt connections to Aktion T4, and especially in relation to popular Nazi

323 “I was fit to be tied, let me tell you, when the Führer called off the euthanasia program just … just because of the rabble-rouser of a bishop” (Act I, Scene II) [trans.Winston] 324 “Oh, but it costs the economy plenty, Herr Eichmann, to go on feeding the insane!” (ibid).

224 propaganda about the topic. The first is in reference to the ban on degenerate art, and its connection to disabled peoples. The painter Max had a ban put on his paintings, but continued to paint illegally. The protagonist’s mother comments the following about his paintings.

Manchmal denke ich, Max soll sich freuen über das Verbot. Wenn man sich so ansieht, welche Leute er malt: die grünen Gesichter, die mongolischen Augen, diese verwachsenen Körper, all diese Fremde: da malt doch die Krankheit mit. Ein deutsches Gesicht, das kommt bei ihm nicht vor. (Lenz 218)325 The second reference is less overt, but also in keeping with the propaganda about people with disabilities. Here is the mention of the idea that it was better to kill an animal to put it out of its misery, than to let it suffer (220), which was one of the main arguments in the propaganda films relating to Nazi euthanasia. However, similar to Der Stellvertreter, the topic is not a prominent theme in the work. The two allusions to Aktion T4 are not substantial plot elements, and their inclusion in no way influences the action in the novel. This concept of the representation of

Aktion T4 being included on the margins was not abnormal for the time of the publication of the novel, as is in keeping with general memorialization trends.

The 1970s brought a new wave in memorialization and a literary example of a novel exploring the topic of Aktion T4 can be found in Christa Wolf’s Kindheitsmuster [Patterns of

Childhood] (1976). This second person narrative is a veiled autobiographical and psychological exploration of growing up during National Socialist rule. Through the discussions and questioning of memory work and the struggle to attempt to come to terms with the past, the topic of Aktion T4, but also of possible dangerous repercussions in the study of biology in 1970s

German society, are prevalent throughout the text. The introduction of characters on the

325 “Sometimes I think Max ought to be glad about the ban. I mean, if you just look and see the sort of people he paints – those green faces, those Mongol eyes, those lumpy bodies. There’s something strange about it all – there must be something ill about that kind of painting. Now you don’t see a German face in any of his pictures.” (Lenz 181).

225 periphery of society, for example the mentally disabled cousin Heini and physically handicapped

Aunt Dottie, allow for questions to be raised about forced sterilization, eugenics, and the death of those with disabilities. While Wolf does not mention the Nazi euthanasia programme by name, details such as Dottie’s death (Wolf 198), and the missing insane from former mental institutions

(Wolf 242), allude to Aktion T4. What most differentiates this novel from previous examples which implicitly or nonchalantly included this difficult topic, and is representative of the topic of

Aktion T4 remaining marginalized, is that Wolf draws a powerful connection between eugenics in the 1930s and the potential repetition in 1970s. Wolf warns of a “moral memory” when the character Lenka’s modern day classmate suggests selecting the old and sick for starvation (Wolf

394). Such statements hearken back to the dangers of rampant negative eugenics, and thus Wolf makes a convincing argument to be wary of repeating the past. This direct addressing of the representation of Aktion T4 memory is very much in keeping with trends in memorialization practices in East Germany at the time.

In recent years the topic has become more prevalent in various international mediums of literature and film. While there are other examples, such as Ursula Hegi’s 1994 novel Stones from the River326, and Swedish journalist and author Stieg Larsson’s 2005 novel The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo327, and Ann Clare LeZotte’s 2008 free verse poems, T4: A Novel328, this chapter will concentrate on German literary examples after 1989. The works discussed in this

326 This popular novel, included on Oprah’s Book Club List in 1997, also includes a dwarf protagonist, Trudi, which makes striking comparisons to Die Blechtrommel. Two key themes that emerge from the novel are the concept of silence and the idea of secrecy. 327 In talking about one of the protagonist’s family connection to the Nazi party, Larsson writes: “Harald argued not only for sterilisation but also for euthanasia – actively putting to death people who offended his aesthetic tastes and didn’t fit his image of the perfect Swedish race. In other words, he was appealing for a wholesale murder in a text that was written in impeccable academic prose and contained all the required medical arguments. Get rid of those who are handicapped. […] People who are mentally ill would regard death as a form of liberation, wouldn’t they?” (Larsson 254) 328 LeZotte, herself completely deaf from a , brings attention to the topic of Aktion T4 memorialization for the youth audience. Throughout the novel it is LeZotte’s goal to “illuminate the lives [o]f people lived, loved, [a]nd died” (LeZotte 1),

226 chapter fall into three distinct categories; Jugendliteratur [youth literature] functioning as an educational tool for young readers, popular or contemporary adult literature329, and regional publications, which serve as means of remembrance for family members, and that have, according to Sebald, been previously hidden away in the private or familial sphere330. As will be examined in depth in each of the examples, there is a clear dichotomy in purpose for each novel.

Either it functions as a conduit for the examination of personal grief associated with a certain a victim, or as a vehicle to delve into historical details. The main thrust is on the overcoming and survival of this period, as well as the suffering during the war, and not on the suffering of loss331.

While literature bridges the realms of reality and fiction, the imaginative realization of literature allows for an alternative means to examine the representation of Aktion T4 memorialization.

B. Jugendliteratur: An Educational and Direct Approach for the Young Reader

Targeted at a younger audience, this genre of literature places great importance on education, and often offers suggestions on supplementary material to be explored beyond the novel. In combining both reality and fiction, this form of literature relies heavily on historical fact as a means to educate the reader. While the books do shed light on negative and explicit aspects of the Aktion T4 programme, there is often an absence or reduction on the importance of grief. This is intentionally done not to upset or shock the young reader, while at the same time introducing them to this important topic. Textual prosthesis to alleviate a contentious and

329 It is important to define how I am using this term. By popular literature I mean novels, which are readily available in bookstores, and are widely read. I use the term “popular” to differentiate this category from regional texts, which have a limited publication run, and are targeted at a more specific group of reader, who is especially interested in the topic. 330 In reference to the taboo surrounding publishing works with concentrated on German suffering, Sebald writes that little was in fact published, but rather put away in drawers. (Sebald 83, Trans. Bell) 331 The trend is that the third category of literature, that of the self published material, is the only area which contains protagonists who are murdered in the Aktion T4 programme. Other books inexplicitly have characters who survive against all odds, which does not allow for an exploration of ‘grief’, which is necessary for this traumatic event.

227 disturbing topic is an important aspect of Jugendliteratur. The topic of death and the effects of grieving and loss are thereby glossed over for the young reader332.

Another aspect which is important for the younger audience is that graphic images and descriptions are not included, as not to frightening the reader. John Quicke argues that one advantage of depicting people with disabilities in literature in that is it less traumatic for the reader than using visual elements (Quicke 5). This is especially accurate in comparison to film and photographic representation. Quicke also contends that depicting a person with disabilities in context with the greater narrative can be advantageous in its pedagogical function. In this instance the disability is not seen as an isolated condition, but rather as one of many attributes of said character who is able to interact with those around them, and perhaps contribute positively to the greater plot. This is especially true in the examples of juvenile fiction.

According to scholars such as Baskin and Harris, and Quicke, juvenile literature has an immense power to be a pedagogical tool for the younger audience. Here the reader can learn about a historical event, but also about the treatment if those with disabilities. By placing the topic of disability in context with the larger narrative, the reader is not subjected to the fact that those with disabilities are to be seen as the other, but that they are easily integrated into the overall plot. W.G. Sebald, on the other hand, is critical about the legitimacy of Jugendliteratur.

“[...] but I can hardly imagine that a genre specifically for young people had hit upon the right dimensions for description of the German catastrophe.” (Sebald 81) Despite this condemnation, this genre is important as it explores aspects of history and entertainment, whilst memorializing

Aktion T4.

332 Supplementary material and further information in included in the back of the book, outside of the actual text. This allows for further investigation and exploration on the topic in the classroom, and is not a weighty aspect of the novels.

228

i. Ursula Wölfel - Ein Haus für Alle

Along with Ann Claire LeZotte’s 2008 novel, T4: A Novel, another example of an examination of the topic of National Socialist euthanasia in youth literature can be found in

Ursula Wölfel’s 1991 German novel, Ein Haus für Alle [A House for All]. The work, published so closely after the reunification of Germany, can be viewed as groundbreaking in its rather direct exploration of a previously overlooked topic. Wölfel’s novel has a similar emphasis on

‘education’ as that of LeZotte’s work. Ein Haus für Alle thus has a realist approach to include historical information, while also being an imaginative representation and interpretation of the

Nazi events. The novel explores more delicate, raw human emotions of family members of a disabled child, and also includes a nearly completely accurate historical framework. Common themes in the novel are the non-judgmental exploration of choice, the desire to fit into society, and the struggle to do what is best for one’s situation.

The novel, broken into three time periods, revolves around the life of the main characters from 1904 to 1945, spanning geographically from Upper Austria to the Ruhrgebiet in Germany.

The main characters belonged to the free spirit life of the original Wandervogel333, a group which was later banned by the Nazis for challenging political, social and religious norms. By including such an eclectic family belonging to a group contested by the National Socialists, Wölfel has created characters who are willing to contest the inscribed rules. An essential character in the plot is the mentally disabled child, Robbi. He is not initially identified as being disabled, but his condition is heavily alluded to. “Sie meinte, viel frische Luft müsste ihm gut tun, weil er doch mit vier Jahren noch kaum laufen und sprechen konnte und viel kleiner war als andere

333 Founded in 1901 in Berlin, this group of young people wandered throughout Germany and abroad, seeking a simpler and nature based lifestyle, free of alcohol and nicotine. After WWI, the later “Freideutsche Jugend” and “Bündische Jugend” were banned by the National Socialists. See Wölfel 432 for more information.

229

Vierjährige” (Wölfel 71)334. A direct conflict is very quickly established in that Robbi’s father,

Paul, is an important SS officer with a position in München, where he gives presentations “»im

Auftrag des Führers«, zur Volksaufklärungen über Rassenkunde und Erbgesundheit” with the hope that “man könnte dafür sorgen, dass kein Kind mehr mit ererbten Krankheiten geboren würde” (Wölfel 74)335. The relationship between father and son is forever strained, as Paul worries about the effect on his career to have a mentally disabled son336. This desire to hide a mental illness in one’s family has been reported in many historical scholarly texts, and helps explain why there is an absence in post war discussion.

While the book does identify other victim groups persecuted by the National Socialists, the main emphasis is on the persecution of those with mental and physical disabilities337. Wölfel never explicitly names the Aktion T4 programme as such, but there is constantly an underlying current of the treatment, or lack thereof, of this demographic group. There is a constant unspoken sense of danger revolving around Robbi’s existence. The reader is aware of the mounting negative treatment towards those with disabilities, or those deemed mentally unfit by

334 “She believed lots of fresh air would have to do him well, since he was found years old and not quite able to walk or speak and he was much shorter than other four-year olds” [my translation] 335 “»At the behest of the Fuehrer«”, at the public enlightenment relating to the study of race and hereditary health” with the hope that “it could be assured that no child would ever be born with inherited diseases again”. [my translation[ 336 After the birth of his children, and his new ominous position in Berlin, Paul becomes a subsidiary character. His presence at home is extremely minimal, often with only a letter at Christmas. However his position in Berlin does not go unnoticed and he becomes a foreboding presence at the heart of Nazi Germany. His children generally do not care for him. The elder son Georg speaks out negatively against him, and as a very young child, Robbi’s choice of language is of note. At the age of four, he could speak very little but refers to his father as “bös” (bad, evil), and his sister as “lieb” (darling, beloved). Paul pulls away from his wife and children, as indicated by the statement, “Seit fast einem ganzen Jahr hatte er Robbi nicht mehr “Gute Nacht” gesagt” (Wölfel 86) (“For almost one whole year he didn’t say “Good ” to Robbi.” [my translation]) 337 Examples of this can be seen in the introduction of signs denouncing shopping at Jewish stores (72), Georg parroting anti-Semitic propaganda (187), the burning of the town synagogue (222), and the awareness of the danger of having Jewish blood in ones lineage (191). The escape of persecuted groups (Jews, Social democrats, Jehovah’s Witnesses, actors and writers) by boat is also discussed (294). Of note is that homosexuals and the Roma and Sinti groups are not included in this work, which is a rather large omission for a novel that contains so many other educational aspects.

230 the State338, and topics such as forced sterilization and euthanasia are touched upon. The historically important subject of the so-called ‘financial burden’ is also discussed, “Die Asyle kosten die Volksgemeinschaft einen Haufen Geld” (Wölfel 100)339, as well as the financial incentive to turn in newborns with disabilities (Wölfel 305). Escalating Nazi agendas, such as forced sterilization (Wölfel 303), the use of questionnaires (Wölfel 302, 320), and eventual euthanasia are also lightly touched upon340. Wölfel thereby integrates historically accurate information into the text in order to educate the young reader of the events that occurred.

An important theme in Wölfel’s novel is the careful examination of familial relationships, the varying nuances of emotions, and the difficult decisions that needed to be made for the care of the child Robbi. Through these characters, the reader is able to gain more insight into the complex attitudes of those living with a mentally challenged child during Nazi rule in Germany.

It is very clear from the onset that the father, Paul, wants his child to be put into an institution for various reasons including for Robbi’s care (80), because of his embarrassment, “Weil er Robbi nicht sehen will? Weil er sich für ihn schämt? (Wölfel 151)341, and also to remove him from the public eye as Paul has blind ambition to advance in the Nazi party (Wölfel 96, 104). This is in direct contrast to Schnurre’s protagonist, who is hidden away in an institution in Prenzlauer

Berg, and is viewed as being crazy. This change is perception in Wölfel’s later novel is indicative in changes in public perception on the topic of disability. Paul’s stance on Robbi

338 Early on, Leo learns of the police removal of asocial persons from asylums to Dachau (92), 339 “The asylums cost the community a pile of money” [my translation] 340 The topics of euthanasia and sterilization are discussed only once each. The sterilization practices could have been performed on Robbi, but the Schwester Oberin at the institution was against Darwinian thought and she refused. The concept of euthanasia is explained in more detail in a conversation between Leo, Rike and the young Georg. “Er nennt das >Euthanasie<, das bedeutet schöner Tod. Er und seine Helfer nennen es auch >desinfizieren< oder >ausmerzen<. Sie sagen: Es ist Krieg, die unnützen Esser müssen weg.” (“He called it ’euthanasia’. That means a peaceful death. He and his helpers also call it ‘disinfection’ or ‘eradication’. They say: it is war and all useless eaters must be sent away.” [my translation] 341 “Why did he want to see Robbi? Was he ashamed of him?” [my translation]

231 being institutionalized becomes increasingly stronger (“Er kreigt also neuerdings

Tobsuchtsanfälle, der kleine Bastard? In eine Anstalt gehört er!” Wölfel 119342), and he threatens to withhold funds for the family if Robbi stays with them (Wölfel 152). Dana, Robbi’s mother, on the other hand, initially wishes to keep her son with her, and dispels Paul’s insistence that Robbi be removed from the house. The rest of the extended family also shares these thoughts, especially when confronted by mounting public instance that Robbi be sent away. “So einer wie Robbi wäre eine Gefahr für alle Kinder in der Straße, hatten [Frau Stuckmann und Frau

Behringhoff] gesagt, und er müsste in eine Anstalt und solche Schwachsinnigen gehörten nicht zu den Normalen und Gesunden. »Unsinn! Er bleibt bei uns«, sagte Rike.” (Wölfel 135)343. But when the former friend, and now doctor, Jan van Stinne, comes to persuade the family to let him take Robbi away, they eventually consent344. Jan preys on Dana’s strong desire to become a traveling photographer, “Sei vernünftig, Dana, und denk an deine eigene Zukunft” (Wölfel

152)345, and highlights that this will be hard to do because of the “Belastung durch das kranke

Kind” (Wölfel 149)346. Because of escalating pressure from her husband, and the community,

Dana releases Robbi to the Escheren institution347. Through these examples, Wölfel explores the delicate degrees of emotion that were involved in decisions made at that time for the care of

342 “He recently also gets into fits of raving madness, this little bastard? An institution is where he belongs”. [my translation] 343 “”Nonsense! He says with us”, said Rike.” [my translation] 344 The character Herta is the only former member of the Wandervogel group who remains critical of authority, and here of Jan’s intentions (161). She does not trust their old friend, and this casts a menacing light upon the character of Jan. Throughout the novel she is the only one to speak openly and critically about events taking place, as illustrated by the example “»Ich kann das alles nicht glauben«, sagte Leo. »Dann bleib noch ein bisschen auf dem Mond […] «” (Wölfel 164) (“I cannot believe everything”, said Leo. “Then stay a bit longer on the moon”. [my translation]) Working as a nurse, she is also able to shed some insights about the euthanasia programme. 345 “Be sensible Dana, and think about your own future.” [my translation] 346 “burden of a sick child” [my translation] 347 Another aspect of pressure that Wölfel highlights is that of secrecy. Jan, a high ranking doctor in the National Socialist party, had seen Leo’s illegal poetry leaflets. Dana also relinquished Robbi, as to not get her brother, Leo, in trouble.

232 family members with disabilities. Wölfel does not pass judgment on what was the correct course of action for Robbi. Rather she presents the options in a non-judgmental manner.

These various nuances of emotions can most clearly be exemplified after the first failed visit to Robbi. Wölfel releases a cathartic eruption of emotion, when each of the characters is allowed to release their true feelings to themselves with the following statement; “Keiner sprach von Robbi, aber jeder dachte an ihn” (Wölfel 157)348. Dana convinces herself that she needs time away from her child to concentrate on her studies. She is also haunted by extreme feelings for the need to excuse Robbi. “Wenn er hier ware, würde er vom Stuhl rutschen und zu den anderen Leuten laufen, und ich müsste mich entschuldigen, weil manche ein Kind wie ihn nicht sehen möchten, und auch bei Rike und Leo müsste ich mich für sein Zappelei entschuldigen”

(Wölfel 157)349. Leo wishes that he could spend more time with his wife, Rike, without fear of

Robbi doing something. “Wir müssen uns alle einmal von Robbi erholen” (Wölfel 158)350. Rike is excited that someone else can look after Robbi so she doesn’t have to worry about him, and can finally relax. Georg, Robbi’s brother, looks forward to playing soccer without Robbi interrupting. Only Nora, Robbi’s sister and closest friend, says her feelings out loud. “Ich freu mich, weil ich heute den ganzen langen Nachmittag lesen kann oder Hille besuchen oder mit

Gunhild vierhändig Klavier spielen, oder sonst irgendetwas, und Robbi kann mich nicht stören, aber es geht ihm gut und er kriegt Kuchen” (ibid)351. These candid reflections on the situation are important as they reflect the reported true-life emotions of family members during WWII,

348 “No one spoke about Robbi but everyone thought of him” [my translation] 349 “If he were here he would slide off his chair and run to the other people and I would have to offer my apologies, since some don’t like seeing a child like him, and even to Rike and Leo I would have to apologize for his fidgetiness.’ [my translation] 350 “We all have to recover from Robbi at some point.” [my translation] 351 ”I’m glad because I can read, visit Hille or play four-handed pieces on the piano with Gunhild, or do anything I please at all, all the livelong day, and Robbi can’t bother me, but he is doing well and he gets to eat cake.” [my translation]

233 and their lingering feelings of guilt afterwards. Wölfel thereby illuminates that despite the fact the family truly loves and cares for Robbi, that there was also a sense of relief or release when

Robbi was put into the institution. She demonstrates a dichotomy of emotions, and illustrates the tension that existed in society and affected families over what type of care was most acceptable.

This is a true reflection of what was also experienced in Germany during this time period.

As this is a book written for young readers, Ursula Wölfel also showcases the innocence of children, as a way to make a sympathetic connection between the reader and the younger main characters of the novel, as they are can easily relate to the characters due to being a similar age.

In many instances Dana and Paul’s two eldest children parrot propaganda phrases and concepts, which they have heard through their Hitlerjugend youth groups, newspapers, or from elsewhere.

It seems as though at times they are fully indoctrinated into the Nazi ideology, despite the fact that the overall political party could harm their brother. Young Georg is especially affected.

After reciting Jewish stereotypes, his uncle Leo questions him about not even knowing any

Jewish people. Georg answers, “Die Juden sind unser Unglück. Das haben wir im Heimabend gelernt. Sie sind Kriegshetzer. Sie haben keine Liebe zu Deutschland. Sie sind schuld, dass die

Preise steigen.” (Wölfel 188)352. Such statements he did not learn at home, and Wölfel thereby highlights the impact of outside pressure upon the family, as well as the danger of believing all propaganda without questioning its validity. Georg also witnesses a cattle train filled with people destined for the Polish border. When questioned about this sight, Georg cannot comprehend that Jewish people would actually be transported in such a small, dirty carriage

(Wölfel 227). He is aware of the facts, but cannot comprehend the full gravity of its

352 ”The Jews are our misfortune. We learned that at the social evening. They are war-mongers. They don’t have any love for Germany. It is their fault that the prices are rising.“ [my translation]

234 significance. Another instance of children propagating negative stereotypes is the local children’s treatment of Robbi. Some of them are physically violent with him (Wölfel 280), while another young girl screams that “solche wie der gehören vom Hitler eingesperrt” (Wölfel

271)353, after having spent Christmas Day with Robbi.

Such statements indicate that negative stereotypes affected young children. By having innocent children, who do not fully understand the meaning of the declarations, recite such hurtful things, Wölfel thereby places the focus on the absurdity of the stereotypes, and the dangers of believing such stereotypes without questioning the significance of said stereotypes.

The climax of Ein Haus für Alle occurs when Robbi is rushed from institution to institution to avoid being deported to a euthanasia centre. To evade being killed, Robbi is surrounded by several protective elements, such as his family, the nuns at the Escheren institution, and his dwarf friend Moritz. His father’s aide, Detlef, also protects him when he anonymously phones the family to warn them. “Frau Dana, die Meldebogen für das Haus in

Escheren sind verschickt worden. Bitte holen Sie das Kind nach Hause, ehe das Heim die Bogen ausfüllt” (Wölfel 313)354. By involving so many characters, be it religious, in the SS, or family, as Robbi’s guardians, Wölfel is highlighting that people in German society also opposed the euthanasia programme. After learning about the death transports in the gray buses, the malnutrition which claimed the life of one character, and experiments done on those with disabilities, Robbi’s life seems doomed. Jan, the doctor, who first placed Robbi in Escheren, arrives at his new institution, to take the boy to his practice. In a surprising turn of events, Jan leaves Robbi at the side of the road to walk to his grandfather’s farm in Hochtal, Upper Austria.

353 “People like him should be locked up by Hitler.” [my translation] 354 ”Mrs. Dana, the registration certificates for the house in Eschere were sent out. Please take the child home before the asylum fills in the certificates.” [my translation]

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When the family finally learns of Robbi’s whereabouts, the reader also learns that Jan works “in der Nähe von Linz […] in einem anderen Heim” (Wölfel 420)355, which one can only deduce as the killing centre Schloß Hartheim.

Ein Haus für Alle is not a story solely of the plight of Robbi and his condition, but also a representation of how the whole family was able to survive the war. There are ranging emotions from Paul’s wholehearted acceptance of the Nazi regime, and his absolute love and devotion to

Hitler, which drove him away from his family, to Austrian Dana and Leo’s struggle for minor resistance, and a fight to keep their extended family together and safe. Straddling the two worlds of full acceptance of and resistance to the Nazi party are the two children Georg and Nora.

Georg’s initial zeal for a sense of belonging and acceptance can be seen in his reaction to his HJ uniform (Wölfel 184), and his eventual rejection of the party356. Nora is less accepting of the party, intentionally struggling against joining the Bund deutscher Mädel (BDM), then reluctantly working during her studies, to a full turning away from her love, Werner, due to his connection to the war.

By using critical secondary sources, such as several works, Ursula Wölfel highlights several important historical accuracies such as the gray transport buses (Wölfel 318),

355 “in the vicinity of Linz […] in another institution.” [my translation] 356 His uniform is an important symbol for Georg. He initially says to his sister Nora, “Geh doch endlich in den BDM […] dann kriegst du selbst eine Uniform und dann fühlt man sich ganz anders. Dann gehört man zu einer großen Gemeinschaft. Vielleicht werde ich einmal Jungenschaftsführer, dann freut sich Pa” (Wölfel 184). (“Join the already [...] then you will receive your own uniform and you will be feeling entirely different. You will belong to a great confraternity. Maybe one day I will become leader, which would make dad happy” [my translation]) This connection to a uniform changes drastically when he is escorting Robbi and Moritz to a new institution. “Dann auch hier die Frage: Uniform oder nicht? Leo war für einen Mittelweg. Also schwarze Hose, Uniformhemd ohne Lederkram und Armbinde, kariertes Hemd in den Rucksack?” (Wölfel 346). (“Here, too, the question: uniform or no uniform? Leo was in the middle. Thus, black pants, uniform shirt without leather clobber and brassard, plaid shirt in the backpack?” [my translation]) When gray buses arrived in Auffing to pick up the 57 patients for transport, it is stated “[e]r war froh, dass er das karierte Hemd angezogen hatte, so fiel er keinem auf” (Wölfel 350). (“He was glad that he had put on the plaid shirt, this way he didn’t attract any attention.” [my translation])

236 the official end of the euthanasia programme, which continued unofficially with the depriving of food and the use of Luminal (Wölfel 370, 378), and Bishop von Galen’s speech to call for the end of Aktion T4 (Wölfel 381). There is also a supplemental “Erklärungen und Abkürzungen” and “Zeittafel” sections for more detailed information357, thus reinforcing the pedagogical aspect of the genre of Jugendliteratur.

Ursula Wölfel’s novel brings attention to the subject of Nazi euthanasia in the new wave of memorialization directly following the reunification of Germany. Despite minor historical omissions358, Ein Haus für Alle should be viewed as an insightful initial exploration into the topic of National Socialist euthanasia and its memorialization, and is following a larger trend on remembering and the representing of this aspect of Nazi crimes. Wölfel does not force a moral answer onto the reader, but rather presents different emotions which occurred during this time.

She presents the material in such a clinical and unguarded manner that at times it is devoid of an excess of emotion. One sentiment that is glaringly absent is that of grief, and thus results in a lack of empathy in the reader. The reader does learn that one of Robbi’s Escheren friends dies from malnutrition (Wölfel 383), but there had been no previous emotional connection to this character for the reader, and it is merely mentioned in passing. There is thus a lack of an emphasis on the aspect of German suffering in favour of representing the theme of memorialization of Aktion T4.

357 The “Zeittafel” section does provide more detailed historical information about the events from 1913 to 1945. For most years highlighted Wölfel provided a short sentence connecting a specific event from the novel to that year. This allows the reader to draw a very direct connection between the history and the plot. 358 One such example is the number of victims, which is important to know to put the programme into perspective with the later Holocaust. Wölfel does provide information about the number of Jewish victims, but fails to disclose the number of Aktion T4 victims. It is assumed that perhaps the gravity of the victims was not known at the time of publication. Graphic details about the horrific events were also excluded or adapted as to not upset the young reader.

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C. Contemporary Literature: Exploiting the Victims in Literature

The purpose of this categorization of literature is, in contrast to Jugendliteratur, firmly rooted in literature for entertainment as opposed to pedagogy. Here there exists a critical gray zone between fact and fiction, as historical truths are often subjugated in order to drive the plot in a distinct direction, and to attempt to achieve a certain goal and elicit a predetermined emotion.

That is not to say that this excess of emotion is unproductive in terms of memorialization, but that history has been manipulated in order to provide a means of escapism through literature.

Historical facts have been purposely altered to avoid addressing certain aspects of a difficult traumatic event, or to draw out emotion.

The role of disability in these works has also been diminished, and often there is a type of normalization of the topic of disability, in that disability plays a lesser role in the plot, which focuses more on entertaining the reader. In such popular texts, characters with disabilities are often used as ‘hooks’ to engage audience interest, or intrigue the audience with their exoticism or freakshow factor, and generally do not stand as the “regular” main character (Shakespeare 166).

The characters remain much more on the margin, as opposed to being a central figure in the text, if the topic of disability has been included at all. There is more an emphasis on how one represents the memorialization of Aktion T4, and not on the victims themselves. The emphasis of these works is thereby more on escapism through exhilarating or humourous plots as a means to cope with the past.

i. Rainer Gross - Grafeneck

Rainer Gross’ 2007 German language thriller, Grafeneck, has received mixed reviews, ranging from being awarded the 2008 Glauser Krimi-Debüt award, to skepticism amongst those

238 involved with the Grafeneck memorial site359. The novel functions more as a mass market work in the genre of popular culture, and its extensive availability and thus ability to illuminate the topic of Nazi euthanasia to a wider audience makes it suitable for examination in this chapter. It firmly straddles the line between fiction and reality. It is a Heimatroman, or regional tale, that focuses on the history of the towns near Buttenhausen and Grafeneck in the Schwäbisch Alb in

Baden-Württemberg.

At the heart of Gross’ work is the discovery of an unknown corpse in a cave in the

Schwäbisch Alb in 1997. The body, a murder victim wearing a 50 year old ‘Sunday suit’, with a strange chalk marking on its back, becomes a rampant symbol for the revelation of a grave secret from the past. Its difficult removal from the dark cave becomes an obvious metaphor for the dark secret of the Nazi past in the town of Buttenhausen being brought to light360. By revealing the secret of the corpse, the protagonist, Hermann Mauser, plays an intricate role in the examination of the events, which led to the murder.

Die Wahrheit ans Licht bringen und dererlei Phasen, aber in Wirklichkeit geht es um etwas anderes. Plötzlich erschreckt ihn, welche Gestalt das annimmt, plötzlich hat es mit ihm zu tun, plötzlich steckt er mitten darin in den Geheimnissen und dem Dunkel der Zeit. Wir haben alle ein Höhlenauge, denkt Mauser. Ein Auge voll Dunkelheit, das in der Sonne blind ist. Wir können die

359 In a conversation with the Grafeneck memorial director Thomas Stöckle, he views the novel less favourably. As a historian, he is troubled by the many historical inaccuracies in Grafeneck, and worries that people will have an inaccurate perception of what happened at the site. As some of the details are accurate, he correctly purports that the reader might become confused as to what is truth or not. He does however recognize that the novel is very popular, and the fact that is a Heimatroman allows many people in the area to relate more to this history as they are geographically so close to the site. However, the role of literature should not be to represent a completely correct historical account, but rather it functions as a quest to impart sentiment over information and can be viewed as an alternate form of representation. The idea of darkness is significant throughout the novel. The protagonist, Hermann Mauser, is an expert caver, and feels most safe inside the confines of dark caves. ““Und was fasziniert Sie daran?” “Die Dunkelheit”, antwortet Mauser. “Das ist eine ganz andere Welt. Da ist einer ganz allein im Bauch der Erde.” (Gross 43) (“And what fascinates you about it?” “The darkness“, replies Mauser. “It is a completely different world. There, one is all alone in the stomach of the Earth.” [my translation])

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Wahrheit nie sehen. Wir sind nie Beobachter. Wir sind immer Täter. (Gross 99)361 Mauser initially wishes to take on the onus of examining the body himself, which functions as an act of self examination, and his exploring of his own family history. He is often alone in his thoughts, isolated in the caves or riding his bike through the Alb. “Ich werde seine

Geschichte herausfinden. Das ist alles, was ich für ihn tun kann. Das ist alles, was ich für mich tun kann. Für Vater, der irgendetwas mit dieser Geschichte zu tun hat.” (Gross 36)362. He expresses his feelings of responsibility to reveal the truth. “Er gehört mir, denkt Mauser. Ich bin es, der ihn entschlüsseln muß” (Gross 14)363. As a 61-year old teacher, he is an embodiment of the second generation attempting to work through their parents’ actions during the National

Socialist rule. He deeply felt responsibility to explore his father’s role in the murder of this unknown person. Eventually Mauser relinquishes the body to the police so there can be an official state investigation of the body. In this way the police, and not Mauser alone, are able to investigate the history to seek justice. This mirrors memorialization practices in German society which include both private and state recognition. However, by performing an initial search, stealing the bullet and performing his own ballistic analysis, as well as interviewing and threatening suspects and keeping in constant contact with the commanding police officer working the case, Mauser intertwines himself in the case, and at times hinders the investigation.

361 “To unearth the truth and that sort of phases, but in reality it revolves around something else. Suddenly it frightens him what shape it takes, suddenly he has to deal with him, suddenly he is in the thick of it, the secrets and the murkiness of time. We all have a ‘cave-eye’, thinks Mauser. An eye full of darkness, which is blind to the sun. We can never see the truth. We are never observers. We are always perpetrators.” [my translation] 362 “I will find out his story. That is all that I can do for him. That is all that I can do for me. For Father who has something to do with this story.” [my translation] 363 “He belongs to me”, believes Mauser. “I am the one who has to decipher him.” [my translation]

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This emphasizes that both private and public means are necessary to investigate the past, and reveal the truth364.

The actual removal of the body from the cave so that it can be fully investigated by the police is extremely difficult, and is an allegory for Mauser’s struggle to come to terms with his father’s connection to the National Socialists365. The discovery of the body releases intense emotions from Mauser, but also from other Buttenhausen townsfolk, as well as raising interesting topics of discussion such as who can judge right from wrong, who can mourn, and how, and the degree of admitting to the events of the past, without implicating oneself.

An essential question in Grafeneck is that of “Recht und Unrecht”, right versus wrong, and who is capable of judging this. While some characters refer to religion as the only way to answer this, Hermann Mauser views the struggle of what is right and wrong as a personal battle, made all the more difficult for him as he learns of his father’s actions during the war. Through the novel he explores in detail this concept of guilt. “Ich find, jeder Mensch hat irgendwie die

Entscheidung über sein Leben. Einer entscheidet sich für Recht oder Unrecht. Nicht für immer,

364 This conversion between private and public is further illustrated in the murder weapon, Mauser’s father’s P 04 pistol. This weapon was not his official police weapon, but rather his own private weapon dating from the Kaiserzeit. The father therefore sought justice as a private individual, and not in his capacity as a police officer. Another example can be seen in the disconnect in the greetings. When first meeting the Commissioner Greving, “Mauser lacht und würde dem Mann gerne auf die Schulter schlagen” (Gross 42), (“Mauser laughs and wants to hit the man on the shoulder” [my translation]) but resists because of his formal clothing. After crawling through the cave with Greving, Mauser is still conflicted about their closeness and a divide remains between the two of them. “Vor dem Streifenwagen verabschiedet sich Greving mit Handschlag. Da die beide dreckig sing, macht das nichts. Von der Klaustrophobie ist nichts mehr zu merken Jetzt könnte Mauser ihm auf die Schulter schlagen, jetzt, wo sie beide in der Höhle waren. Aber jetzt geht es nicht mehr.” (Gross 47) (“In front of the patrol car Greving says goodbye with a handshake. Since both are dirty it does not seem to matter. The prior claustrophobia is now unobservable. Now Mauser could hit him on the shoulder, now that both of them have been in the cave. But now it is too late.” [my translation]) 365 Mauser makes a strong connection between the unknown body, which clothed in a suit from the Nazi time, and his father, who “fought” as a police officer during this time (Gross 13). “Die Zeit, erschrickt Mauser. Hier steht sie und wartet auf ihn. Die Vergangenheit. Die Nazi-Zeit. Die Zeit seines Vaters. Das bestätigt seine Vorahnung von gestern.” (Gross 27) (“Time scares Mauser. Here it is standing waiting for him. The past. The Nazi-time. The time of his father. This confirms his premonition from yesterday.” [my translation])

241 aber trotzdem. Einer ist verantwortlich. Einer hat Schuld.” (Gross 71)366 Gross does not present a clear answer to what is right or wrong. He creates complex characters who live in a liminal world between both sides. This is most clearly illustrated in the character of Hermann Mauser’s father, whom Mauser clearly views as having a strong moral compass. “Vater wußte immer, was richtig und was falsch ist. […] Wie er jeden Tag darum gekämpft hat, das Rechte zu tun. Wie er jeden Tag Ernst genommen hat bis zu einem Maß, das Mauser unverständlich war. Es war keine

Arbeit: Er hat die Welt in Ordnung gebracht”. (Gross 97) As a police officer, he wanted to do the right thing by not supporting the Nazis, but then didn’t do anything to stop them when they took away his disabled daughter, Mutz, resulting in wife subsequently committing suicide (Gross

54)367. The father tries to be a strong and righteous individual, and yet he participates in the murdering of Grafeneck director, Dr. Jürgen Schumacher368. After the reader learns of Dr.

Schumacher’s murderous history at Grafeneck is revealed, Gross allows for little sympathy when the reader learns he has been killed. Gross thereby raises questions as to whether Mauser’s father’s actions were justified, and can be considered ‘Unrecht’. Despite raising various dilemmas as to who can judge, Gross seems to conclude that “[r]ichten kann nur der, der alles weiß” (Gross 177)369. Since no character in this novel is aware of the complete truth, it seems that Gross wishes to assert that no one is capable of passing judgment. What is important, however, is that this novel attempts to address the issue faced by German society of the difficulty

366 “I believe every person can somehow make decisions over their lives. One decides on right or wrong. Not forever, but nonetheless. One is responsible. One has to bear the blame.” [my translation] 367 This can be directly contrasted with the actions of Oskar’s father, Matzerath, in Die Blechtrommel. Matzerath is repeatedly said to have made great effort to protect his son from being removed from their family house. Mauser’s father, in a position of power within the community, readily gave up his daughter to the Nazis, which is in keeping with many historical reports which were included in Chapter 1. 368 Many of the details in this book are rooted in truth. This fact, however, is a fallacy. The correct name of the director was Horst Schumann. Although Gross not does explain at the beginning that he has taken liberty to change the names of the guilty, it can be assumed that this renaming was done so as to ensure that the novel is a work of fiction. 369 “Only he who is omniscient can judge.” [my translation]

242 of confronting negative memories, and the representation of German people as both victims and perpetrators.

The concept of judging people to be right or wrong and the allowance for compassion also appears consistently in the work. Mauser is quick to pass judgment onto other people, and assume that they should assume the responsibility of guilt. On two occasions Mauser confronts people who were involved with the euthanasia action at Grafeneck with his father’s weapon which was used in the murder of the unknown corpse. Mauser first challenges his good friend

Eugen Mattes for his involvement driving the gray buses to Grafeneck.

“Und? Wie bist du damit ungegangen, all die Jahr?” “Gar nicht.” “Du hast eine Schuld, Eugen, ist dir das klar?” “Und? Was soll’s? Jeder hat irgendeine Schuld.” “Aber so eine Schuld prägt das Leben. Mensch, begreifst das nicht?” “Mein Leben ist so gewesen, wie es gewesen ist. Was kommst du daher und willst mir Schuld aufladen? Ich bin gut damit gefahren, bis jetzt.” (Gross 139)370

By forcing his friend to confront the past, Gross alludes to the fact that everyone, even those close to oneself, have secrets, and perhaps have not yet confronted the gravity of their actions.

Mattes had displaced his guilt by denying that he did any wrongdoings. It is interesting to note that Mattes continues to insist that he is innocent. ““Ich vergebe dir”, sagt [Mauser] und lächelt, während er die Pistole herunternimmt. “Du hast mir gar nichts zu vergeben, Mauser.”” (Gross

370 “So? How did you deal with it, all these years?” “I didn’t.” “You are guilty, Eugen, is that clear to you?” “Well? So what? Everybody has some guilt.” “But not such guilt that leaves a mark on someone’s life. Man, don’t you get it?” “My life was the way it was. How dare you come along and try to burden me with guilt. This served me well so far.” [my translation]

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141)371. This is indicative of problems addressing the level of guilt and involvement of some

German people.

The second character whom Mauser confronts is the former director at the Zwiefalten

Institute, Hochstetter, who arranged the transports to Grafeneck, including that of his sister,

Mutz. When pressured about his degree of guilt for sending away patients to their death,

Hochstetter turns the table back on Mauser’s family. “Und Sie? Glauben Sie, daß Ihr Vater ohne Schuld war? Glauben Sie, daß irgendeiner ohne Schuld gewesen ist? Nach den graugestrichenen Bussen, da können Sie auch andere fragen.” (Gross 133)372. Through these lines, Gross reinforces that many of this time period have a degree of guilt, whether in an active role, such as Hochstetter, or a more passive role of bystanding, such as Mauser’s father. Mauser is equally upset about Hochstetter’s refusal to accept his guilt, as the lack of judgment that given to him by the courts. After the war, because there was no evidence to convict Hochstetter, he was never punished. In this way, Gross carefully sheds light on the fact that many of those involved in Aktion T4 were never brought before the courts, or were never convicted. The fact that Hochstetter has a heart attack and dies before the police can interview him furthers the notion that many were able to avoid conviction, and thereby judgment. This also affects the reader in that it can be perceived that there was a lack of closure on this issue, which likely mirrors how people felt in German society. By including this aspect of lack of judicial closure,

Gross is making a strong connection to the historical events that occurred. Addressing the topic so directly in literature is in following with more open representation of the past which was occurring in the later part of the 2000s.

371 ““I forgive you”, says Mauser and smiles, while taking down the gun. “You don’t have to forgive me anything, Mauser.”” [my translation] 372 “And you? Do you believe that your father was free of guilt? Do you believe that anyone has been without guilt? The grey buses, you can ask someone else about them.” [my translation]

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Another important theme that plays throughout the book is who can ‘appropriately’ mourn, and how this should be performed. Hermann Mauser is in a relationship with Veronika, who comes from , and is viewed as an outsider in the small town. Her frequent use of language calling Jewish people “Israeliten” further distances herself from the Jewish victims of the Holocaust. When visiting the Jewish cemetery in Buttenhausen, Mauser questions

Veronika’s conventionally incorrect methods of mourning the Jewish people373. He ponders,

Sie ist keine Jüdin und meint, daß sie so die Toten ehren kann. Ihr sind nicht alle Toten gleich. Die einen sind ihr Opfer, die anderen Täter. Aber manchmal ist es nicht so leicht, Opfer und Täter auseinanderzuhalten. […] Die Toten zu ehren, das Können nur Betroffene. Veronika macht sinch zu einer Betroffenen, fällt Mauser aud. Überall macht sie sich betroffen.. Überall will dabei sein. Ihr ist alles Leid gleich. Vielleicht ist das richtig so. Aber ich kann es nicht. (Gross 79)374.

Mauser feels that he can take appropriate ownership of investigating the past and that he has the right to mourn, as his own sister, Mutz, was considered to be “Zurückgeblieben” (Gross 58), and was taken away in a gray bus to Grafeneck. Because he was personally affected by the Nazis, he validates his desires to be responsible for the investigation into the past, as well as his strong need to have a place to mourn his sister375. Gross uses Mauser’s need for personal exploration

373 Instead of placing a rock on the gravestones, Veronika places a flower petal under the rocks already there. Mauser is perturbed about her form of mourning. “Das ist so ihre Art von Andenken” (Gross 79). [“That is her way of remembering”. [my translation]) 374 “She is not a Jew and suggests that this way she can honour the dead. To her, not all the dead are alike. Some are victims, others victimizers. But sometimes it is not that simple to distinguish between victim and victimizer. […] Only those affected can honour the dead. Veronika makes herself affected, notes Mauser. In all situations she turns herself into someone who was affected. She wants to be part of everything. All suffering is indifferent to her. Maybe this is appropriate. But I cannot do it.” [my translation] 375 On several occasions Mauser desires a physical location to mourn the death of his sister Mutz, akin to a cemetery or gravestone. “Ich wünschte, Mutz hätte so einen Platz, wo ich hingehen und an sie denken könnte. An Mutters Grab bin ich immer an Geburtstag. Vaters Grab daneben. Das ist in Ordnung.” (Gross 77) (“I wished that Mutz had such a place where I could go and think about her. I go to Mother’s grave every birthday. Father’s grave is beside it. And that’s the way it should be.” [my translation]) But Gross contradicts this by later stating that there is a memorial at Grafeneck, and Mauser often goes to look at her name in the Book of Names, and can remember her there. Therefore Mauser does not desire “so einen Platz”, since Grafeneck Memorial exists as a place of remembrance, but an actual grave. The name in the book at Grafeneck perhaps reminds him too much of her name on “die Liste der Abtransportierten” (Gross 75).

245 and examination of the past to represent Germany’s second generation’s investigation into the past, both to question events, but also initiate public discussion into the topic. Here there is great importance to examine the aspects of involvement in the actions, and German guilt and suffering.

Er wäre allein mit seinem Geheimnis. Manchmal fragt er sich, weshalb er Veronika nicht alles erzählen kann. Schließlich hat sie immer versucht, ihn zu verstehen. Die Leiche ist ihm aufgeladen, er muß das Rätsel lösen, es geht um seinen Vater, und Veronika hat damit nichts zu tun. Das ist eine Mauser-Sache. Eine Familienangelegenheit. Eine Frage von Recht und Unrecht. (Gross 118)376

Here Mauser knows that the story belongs to him alone, and it is difficult to share it with outside people.

Perhaps the strongest theme, and one which is still active in memorialization practices, is the degree to which people knew about the events that were happening during National Socialist rule, and how, and if, they should have admitted their knowledge. By including a police investigation in his book, Gross is able to examine how people impart their knowledge. While

Mauser is intent on revealing the past and finding out the truth, Eugen Mattes strongly opposes the investigation. ““Der geht her und schnüffelt in der Vergangenheit rum”, sagt Eugen. “Ich habe ihn gesagt, daß es in Buttenhausen keine Nazis gegeben hat.” (Gross 83)377 Because of his involvement driving the buses, he doesn’t want to discuss anything with the commissioner, and states “[w]o’s nicht brennt, tät ich auch nicht spritzen” (Gross 90)378. Gross alludes to the

376 “He would be alone with his secret. Sometimes he asks himself why he can’t tell Veronika everything. After all she always tried to understand him. The corpse itself had been burdened on him. He has to solve the mystery. It has to do with his father, and Veronika has nothing to do with that. It is a ‘Mauser-matter’. A question of right and wrong.” [my translation] 377 “He goes about and snoops around in the past”, says Eugen. “I’ve told him that there weren’t any Nazis in Buttenhausen.” [my translation] 378 “Where there’s no fire, I would not throw water.” [my translation]

246 common sentiment to leave the past well enough alone with Matte’s question “[h]attest du die

Leiche nicht einfach liegenlassen können?” (Gross 85)379.

A common sentiment for Mattes and fellow townsfolk Heinrich Waltz is that they do not want to give any information to Commissioner Greving. In fact, they would rather lie and say that they do not know anything, than admit to their participation or even awareness of the past actions.

“Haben Sie das immer noch nicht verstanden? Hier in Buttenhausen, da geht’s darum, ob jemand was weiß und gewußt hat oder nicht. Die Vergangenheit, wir leben mit der. Wenn ich’s Ihnen sagen würde, dann müßte ich sagen: Ja, ich hab was gewußt. So aber kann ich sagen, ich weiß von nix.” (Gross 109)380

The sentiment is furthered with the conversation,

“Das hat mich der Kommissar auch gefragt.” “Du hast es ihm nicht gesagt?” “Nein.” “Warum nicht?” “Damit ich sagen kann, ich habe von nix gewußt.” “Ist das so wichtig?” “Es kommt immer drauf an, was einer gewußt hat und was nicht” (Gross 113)381

These characters would rather omit important details about the events that took place in WWII, despite their pertinence for the murder investigation than admit their culpability. This is an interesting reflection on the silence surrounding the topic of Aktion T4 memorialization in

379 “Couldn’t you have just left the corpse where you found it?” [my translation] 380 “Haven’t you still not understood it yet? Here it Buttenhausen, it’s about whether someone knows or knew something or not. The past, we live with it. If I’d tell you, then I’d have to say ‘yes, I know something.’ But this way I can say that I know nothing.” [my translation] 381 “The inspector asked me the same.” “You didn’t tell him?” “No.” “Why not?” “So that I could say that I knew nothing.” “Is that so important?” “It always depends on what one has known and what one didn’t know.” [my translation]

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Germany today, in that many people are still reluctant to divulge their knowledge or involvement in the action. Gross accurately reflects on this silence through his novel Grafeneck. Through this silence, Gross reflects on societal changes on the representation and inclusion of the topic of

Aktion T4 in the public sphere.

Another aspect of history which Gross examines is the degree to which people were aware of what was happening at the time. This questioning of responsibility and bystanding is difficult to answer for historians, as many people do not wish to disclose what they knew. In connection to the murders at Grafeneck, there are various reports as to which people were aware of what was happening. Mauser was not completely unaware of the significance of the buses, nor was he aware of what happened to his sister (51, 52). The inclusion of the characters of

Mattes and Waltz, on the other hand, illustrates that many people, including Matte’s father, were aware of the murderous events. “Jeder hat gewußt, was die in Grafeneck machen, und keiner hat nix unternehmen können .. ” (Gross 164)382. After repeatedly stating that there were no Nazis in

Buttenhausen, and they claimed to know nothing, Mauser’s friends slowly start to admit to him that they were aware of things that were happening. This was especially true for Mattes, who drove the gray buses. Both friends, however, still refuse to admit their involvement officially to the police.

It has been noted by historians that there are several deviations from historical accounts in Grafeneck. Some examples include the marking of victims with chalk, the experiments conducted on the patients, and the white lab coats of the workers which are included as truth in the novel. The end period for the murders at Grafeneck is incorrectly cited by Rainer Gross. On several occasions he writes that the murders continued until shortly before the end of the war.

382 “Everyone knew what they were doing at Grafeneck, but no one could have done anything.” [my translation]

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“Bis kurz vor Kriegsende sind in Grafeneck Behinderte vergast und dann verbrannt worden”

(Gross 144)383. Unlike at other sites where the murders continued unofficially after 1941, this did not occur at Grafeneck. When looking for his sister’s name at the memorial site at

Grafeneck, Mauser reads: “Therese Mauser. Geboren 1924. Gestorben 1944 in Grafeneck.”

(Gross 124)384. Such historical inaccuracies further point towards this text being a work of fiction, which bases many fact on historical events, but must be viewed as a fictional thriller which is a source of entertainment. History has thus been manipulated so that it is not so much a confrontation with difficult historical facts, but it allows for a more suspenseful narration to service the plot of this thriller. The inclusion of the topic of Aktion T4 is more to drive the suspense of the plot, and not a memorialization tool for the victims of this event. Here it is not so much a disabled character that has been included in the plot, but rather the topic of Aktion T4, and the memorialization thereof, is the most important plot elements.

The novel has been successful thus far in raising attention for National Socialist euthanasia, as well as posing difficult questions about German society in relation to mourning, silence, and second generation guilt and the need to discover the truth about their parents’ generation. Gross reveals that many people in Germany society live with a degree of guilt, but have continued to live their lives. The history needs to be examined, and it brings a sense of relief for Mauser to do so. “Es tut gut, das Geheimnis zu lüften” (Gross 153)385.

383 “Until shortly before the end of the war, handicapped people were being gassed and burnt in Grafeneck.” [my translation] 384 “Therese Mauser. Born 1924. Died 1944 in Grafeneck.” [my translation] 385 “It feels good to reveal the secret.” [my translation]

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ii. Hellmut G. Haasis - Heisel Rein der Gscheite Narr

Published in 2008, Hellmut G. Haasis’s Heisel Rein der Gscheite Narr is an example of

Swabian popular literature. Haasis utilizes a combination of images386, the Swabian language and cultural traditions, and the practice of folk books to portray the real life of Heisel Rein, a well known Eulenspiegel [jester] in the Betzingen and Reutlingen area. Born in 1878 as Reinhold

Häußler, Rein was murdered in 1940 in Grafeneck. Through this whimsical novel, Haasis brings attention to the life of Heisel Rein in a contradiction of laughter and pain, in order to highlight the tragic end of a comic man.

In keeping with the German folklore tradition of the Eulenspiegel, Rein is a trickster, who, through his comedic antics, is able to comment on society. His actions cause conflict and irritation to some townsfolk, and enjoyment to others. Throughout his life, and depicted in the novel, Rein wished to comment on authority and question actions that were taking place at the time. As a jester of the town, he was also viewed as a comedic outside, who was able to comment on society without being taken seriously by those around him. The fact that Rein is considered to be an Eulenspiegel draws an instant connection to the character of Oskar. Unlike

Oskar, Rein was held accountable for his statements made about those around him, and he paid for them with his life through gassing at Grafeneck. Rein also differs from Oskar in that he is not a character who addresses challenges in memorializing the Second World War, but that he stands in as a representation of all victims who lost their lives in this action. The humour in his life, which was well documented in historical texts, and researched by the author, serves as a

386 The inclusion of images is reminiscent of Sebald’s style. Here the text is supplemented with historical photographs which provide documentary evidence, and a perceived layer of history. As discussed above, there is a radical difference between the images that are included in each section. The first being to provide historical details, and the second set are designed to elicit emotion.

250 means to contrast the absurd actions of euthanasia, but also provides an authentic biography of this man who was an actual victim of Aktion T4.

The novel is divided into two sections; “Das erste Buch von den Schwänken” [First Book of the Farces], which described Rein’s life leading up to 1939, and “Das zweite Buch von der

Ermordung” [The Second Book of the Murders], which takes on an ominous tone. The novel begins with Rein’s own words, in the form of a letter which was found during the renovation of a house and given to Haasis. Written in the first voice, Haasis wanted to bring Rein to life, and did so much significant research about the town of Betzingen and Rein’s life. The first part of the novel then becomes a humourous collection of stories about a man who was well liked the community, and seen not as an insane criminal, but rather a simple lighthearted individual, albeit one who was uneducated and came from a poor family, and low social standing. This first section is rich with Swabish dialogue and anecdotes about Rein, as well as a series of photos which depict everyday life in Betzingen. It serves as a means to build a strong emotional connection with the characters through the escalation of events. The photos accompanying this section provide a sobering view of society with historical relevant images with correspond to the text.

The second section brings about a distinct rupture in style, language, and visual imagery.

With the exception of a few sentences, the section is written almost exclusively in High German, which eliminates the more capricious tone that was so evident in the first section. The language is more sobering and earnest. The section of the novel also includes historically accurate stories such as the man looking for his dead sister, and the Swiss gentleman who writes to his family in despair about the killing plans. The images are also radically different in that they now depict gruesome images of death and the grey buses, and collages of altered historical illustrations.

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These graphic images elicit a strong emotional response on behalf of the reader. The joy and humour that was so prevalent in the first section has now been replaced by sadness as the reader follows alongside Rein to his ultimate death in Grafeneck. The somber end of the novel are the last words written by Rein.

By means of the first person narration of the text, it is possible for the reader to make a connection to Heisel Rein. The first section draws in the reader’s attention to the protagonist, and an emotional bond is formed. This emotion is necessary for the second section where Rein’s fate plays out. By focusing on memorializing only one victim, Haasis writes that one of his goals for this story was for the reader to “lesen, lachen, weitergeben” (Haasis 9) in order for

Heisel Rein to live on in folklore. The main restriction for such a regional tale with limited publication of the novel is the constraint of the Swabian language, which does not promote a wider readership. As such the author has targeted one specific audience, and the strong inclusion of the Swabian dialect is not accessible to all readers. Haasis has encouraged a strong cultural connection between the people of the region and this history, but alienated other readers who do not understand the dialect387.

The topic of disability is not overtly addressed in the text. Rein is sent to Grafeneck because he was outspoken in society, and also deemed to be an alcoholic (Haasis 99). The fact that Rein could have been considered asocial or mentally disabled in not directly addressed in the text, but his outspokenness and critique of the Nazi regime alludes to him being one going against social norms of the time. Aspects of German responsibility are included in that the townsfolk question their guilt and involvement in the actions, and how they felt compelled to

387 It should be noted that the book has received praise in the area, and it, combined with his public performances of the novel, has been successful in the region around Stuttgart.

252 follow Hitler, and could not speak out against the events. The text thereby remains a memorialization of one victims of Aktion T4, by re-examining his life in great detail, and connecting to a regional audience.

D. Memorial Publications: A Private Memory becomes Public

The aforementioned literary examples are representative of works which have received critical and popular attention within the German speaking world. It can be argued that the emphasis of these youth and adult novels is either educational in nature, in that the works intend to impart certain facts about National Socialist euthanasia and Aktion T4, or they are more for entertainment, with literary license taken in order to build suspense, or intrigue. While the novels raise excellent questions about dealing with trauma, human interactions and the complexity of decisions, and notions of guilt and acceptance, they do not examine grief.

In contrast to these texts, the topic of grief and a personal connection to the victims is made, however, through novels with limited publication which serve as a memorial for one specific victim. By giving a face and name to the victims, this genre creates an emotional connection to the topic. While these works will not be read by such a wide audience as the previously examined examples, their importance as a memorialization tool should not be overlooked. They represent a more familial exploration of the past, in an attempt to work though the trauma. There is a strong personal connection between the works and their authors, and represent years of struggle to come to terms with the past388.

388 Because it does not deal directly with a disabled victim of Aktion T4, Walter Hilgarth’s Gefesselt / Gefoltert / Enthauptet from Alkoven (Hartheim), Austria was not included in this chapter. It is worthy of mention in this footnote as an example of a regional publication which intends to memorialize a family member. The novel is a son’s exploration of his father’s murder for standing up to the Nazis in Alkoven. Similar to the examples discussed in this section, it functions as a personal search for answers for his father’s death.

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i. Hans-Ulrich Dapp - Emma Z: Ein Opfer der Euthanasie

Fifty years after the death of his grandmother, Hans-Urlich Dapp wrote a novel which was to function not only a memorial to his grandmother, Emma Z, but also a way of coming to terms with her futile death. In a personal interview with the author, he described the difficult emotions that were involved in writing this work, which, when published in 1990, was the first book written about, and best researched example of, a victim of Grafeneck. Dapp first learned about the story of his grandmother in 1967 at the age of 18, and since that time was intrigued with her history. But as analogous to other examples of the suppression of memory, he was greeting with silence from his family (Dapp 7). Later in life he began the difficult task of unearthing Emma Z’s history, and felt compelled to do so. “Ich weiß nur: für mich war es nötig”

(Dapp 8)389.

In this non-fiction novel, which Dapp himself recognizes as a very personal exploration

(Dapp 8), he attempts to recount the life and history of his grandmother, without passing judgment on his family, or his country. He acknowledges the guilt of his family for not attempting to save Emma, and that his own country is responsible for her death. “Ich bin traurig darüber und versuche trotzdem, nicht zu verurteilen” (Dapp 9)390. He wrote the book initially for his family, to preserve Emma’s memory but also hopes that “vielleicht werden durch das Buch noch andere angeregt, den Spuren ihrer vergessenen Angehörigen nachzugehen. Nicht sie, wir selber brauchen diese Fähigkeit zu trauern.” (Dapp 9)391. By making such a strong statement to write a biography about his grandmother, the character of Emma can be considered to function within the category of disability as memorialization.

389 “I just know: to me it was necessary.” [my translation] 390 “I am sad about it and nonetheless, I try not to condemn.” [my translation] 391 “Maybe others will be inspired by the book to inquire about the traces of their forgotten relatives. It is us, not them, who need this ability to grieve.” [my translation]

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The book is written in an interesting manner in that it functions as a biography of Emma

Z, but it also includes an unanswerable dialogue with his grandmother. The text is rich with historical facts, both about the author’s grandmother’s family and mental history, and also about the historically relevant events leading up to Aktion T4 and the murders at Grafeneck. Family photos are also included, which establishes a stronger emotional connection between the reader and Emma’s plight through the visual aspect. These raw and seemingly non-emotional facts are contrasted by italicized paragraphs in which Dapp enters into a one-sided conversation with

Emma Z. As the novel progresses he continues to ask deeply personal questions, which can never be answered by his deceased relative. Slotted between history that is known, the questions hang in the air with a sense of utter sadness. They represent the questions which many people would wish to ask, but for which there can never be an answer.

This dichotomy of fact and unanswerable questioning is absurd, and something which

Dapp admits in conversation that he wished to highlight. He respects the fact that his grandmother can never answer his questions, but states “eine Frage zu stellen ohne Antwort ist manchmal besser, als überhaupt nicht nachzufragen” (Dapp 8)392. The irrationality of Emma Z’s history and her death is echoed in the sudden inclusion of a whimsical poem (Dapp 77), and

Dapp alludes to surreal humour as being an integral part of his growing up after the war. This mirrors trends in memorialization when family member began to investigate the events, but could never receive comprehensive answers.

Throughout the biographical novel Dapp explores the difficult themes of questioning the past, and the events that led to Emma Z’s death, as well as tackling the challenging concept of guilt. Dapp consistently questions the fact that Emma’s brother Karl escaped death, despite the

392 “To ask a question without an answer is sometimes better than not to ask at all.” [my translation]

255 fact that he too has been living in an institution for many years. The grief and guilt that surrounds the surviving family members, including himself, is also prevent throughout the novel.

In the forward to the second edition, Dapp is pleased with the positive reverberations which the publication of Emma Z caused, despite a limited print-run (Dapp 10). Its publication epitomizes an initial release of a previously repressed topic. Dapp is honest in acknowledging that it was a struggle to write this work, and this mirrors the internal grappling of coming to terms with one’s own difficult family history. The unanswerable questions are haunting as a reminder that one will never be able to fully understand the emotional intricacies of this time.

Above all, the work exemplifies the examination of a private grief which was so often kept out of the public realm.

E. The Topic of Aktion T4 is coming out of the Drawers

In keeping with the trend of increasing awareness and discussion of the topic of Aktion

T4, there has been a small rise in the number of novels which explicitly examine the topic of

Nazi euthanasia. The characters of these novels serve not only as a means to provide historical information for the reader, but also in some cases, to bring increased awareness about the topic of disability today. Each example also clearly exemplifies trends in memorialization of the

Aktion T4 victims, which can be reflected in German society at the time in which they were written. This is an important function of literature, as we can use this medium as a lens to view the topic and treatment of disability within the society at a certain time.

Though despite identifying a limited number of German novels in this chapter which include the theme of Aktion T4, the fact remains that there is still a void surrounding the topic of

Aktion T4 memorialization in literature. This void is indicative of an ongoing reluctance to

256 include protagonists with mental and physical disabilities, as defined by Quayson as aesthetic nervousness. This is a natural reaction to evade the topic. And yet it is important to address the topic in this connation as a means to memorialize an important event in the Second World War, and to commemorate the many victims who lost their lives to Aktion T4. The subject matter is also marginalized in the genre of literature, as it faces the difficulty to identify characters as

German victims, and not merely perpetrators. The lack of survivor testimony also contributes to a dearth in literary examples. One could argue that the closest substitution could be the limited memorial biographies written by family members and those close to the victims393.

Literature will continue to play an important role in the memorialization of Aktion T4 victims. It represents an alternative form of representation of the victims of Aktion T4, as compared to other examples included in previous chapters. Though the topic of representing disability in literature will no doubt increase as we gain more acceptability and awareness about the subject of disability, the topic of Aktion T4 in literature remains one which seems to be still hidden in the drawers of literature.

393 The most recent example of this being 2012’s Annas Spuren, written by Sigrid Falkenstein.

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Conclusion: The 100€ Question

“We know [...] that the Holocaust demands speech even as it threatens to impose silence. But to let silence prevail would be tantamount to granting Hitler one more posthumous victory. If it is a blasphemy, then, to attempt to write about the Holocaust, and an injustice against the victims, how much greater the injustice and more terrible the blasphemy to remain silent.”

Rosenfeld, 14

“remember to mourn the death of the 10’s of thousands of gays & lesbians who died”

Unknown author, inscription written inside Marrus’ The Nazi Holocaust, University of

Toronto collections

Written inside the University of Toronto copy of Michael Marrus’ seminal work, The

Nazi Holocaust, 6. The Victims of the Holocaust, is the abovementioned quote. This critical questioning by the reader points towards the fact that people are now calling for a more complete telling of the victims of the Holocaust. While I resisted the urge to add “And what about the victims of the Aktion T4 National Socialist euthanasia programme?” to the inscription, the fact

258 remains that this important event in WWII history is often overlooked or relegated to the margins of Holocaust discourse.

The memorialization of the National Socialist euthanasia programme has experienced a distinct path from being marginalizied within the realm of Holocaust memorialization to being included more in public discussions in very recent years. The representation of Aktion T4 has varied over many forms, such as monuments, memorials, museums, art, and literature, but the common premise is that it has been a contentious topic which has been all too often avoided in general Holocaust memorialization practices. The reasoning behind the void in memory work lies in a complex interweaving of themes. The representation of Aktion T4 in its various aforementioned mediums has been strongly affected by a general avoidance of addressing of disability, which has manifested itself as a form of aesthetic nervousness. A second factor was the lagging or absent judicial practices of prosecuting the perpetrators, and allowing them to return to life without consequence, which signaled a reluctance to officially memorialize the victims. It solidified that society was to continue per status quo without a full investigation of the Aktion T4 crimes. The third important factor which greatly affected the memorialization and subsequent representation of Aktion T4 victims was the fact that the acknowledging of the

German victim group also inherently points towards the acknowledgement of the German perpetrators, and raises questions of a political nervousness. This political nervousness also points towards the difficulty of representing German suffering in connection to WWII memorialization. The merging of these three factors strongly impacted memorialization practices, and resulted in the topic being avoided in Holocaust memory work.

In following Ato Quayson’s theories of aesthetic nervousness, it is a natural reaction to turn away from disability, and thus avoid the representation of the disabled victims of Aktion T4.

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The human desire to avoid disability as a means to confront one’s own deficiencies and limitations has greatly affected the representation of Aktion T4 victims. As people are reluctant to represent disabled victims, it is an instinctive practice to not include such memory work. Also thwarting memory work was the fact that many family members were reluctant to admit that they had someone with a disability in their family. One such example is that prominent scholar Götz

Aly was recently featured in a magazine article (Beyer) speaking about the subject of disability and his disabled daughter. As such, the avoidance of the topic of disability has changed over the past decade, as social perception on the topic of disability changes. This will no doubt affect the memorialization of Aktion T4. The topic of disability now appears in major motion pictures in

Germany, such as Vincent will Meer (2010), Verrückt nach Paris (2002), and Erbsen um halb 6

(2003). Other major initiatives, such as Aktion-Mensch, People1, and Das blaue Kamel, are bringing further attention to the subject, and ensuring that topic of disability is no longer a taboo394. The topic of disability becoming more mainstream in popular culture suggests that there will also be a change in the representation of Aktion T4 as time progresses.

Another factor which strongly impacted the memorialization of Aktion T4 was the representation of Germans as victims, not only as victims of WWII, but also more specifically as victims of a murderous action that was carried out by the German population against a section of their own population. In this sense there was a blurred line between the victims and the perpetrators. It was difficult to honour the victims, as in doing so would also inherently acknowledge the perpetrators, and many of which were still prominent members of the German medical field. Identifying prominent figures in society as perpetrators in this horrific action, as well as outing family members who were guilty of sending their kin to the gassing centres, was

394 It should be noted that the initiative Aktion-Mensch is not a new phenomenon. It was founded in 1964, but has gained further attention in recent years.

260 extremely difficult. This resulted in a lack of memorialization in that neither the victims nor the perpetrators were acknowledged.

The trends in memorialization throughout the decades have been similar in the mediums included in this dissertation. Despite an initial silence and avoidance of the representation, it is important now to note a marked change in representation. The topic of Aktion T4 memorialization faced a phase of silence and aversion immediately following the war, to an exploration by the second generation in the late 1960s, and finally a flood of memorialization after the reunification of Germany. There were also strong political ideologies and memory practices at work in the former East and West Germany, as well as in Austria, which strongly affected how the topic was remembered in society. The changes in public perception on disability in very recent years have also encouraged a deeper examination of the topic, and an increase in the representation of Aktion T4 memorialization in popular culture. While the topic was once relegated to the margins of memorialization, it is now taking on a stronger role in

Holocaust memorialization as more historical information is being revealed, and the topic of disability and the representation of German suffering becomes more accepted.

The more temporal and emotional distancing also allows for more reflection. “The third generation, one generation removed from the survivor, provides a more comfortable and, in some cases, more receptive and interested audience.” (Hass 162). This distancing from the event, as more information about the action is also being made public, allows for a deeper investigation into the historical events, which results in an increase in memorial representation.

Perhaps the strongest indication of an advancement of the memorialization and representation of Aktion T4 in popular culture will occur with the state memorial which is

261 planned to be built at the site of the former villa in Berlin. The creation of the Aktion T4 working group, and blog ‘gedenkort-T4.eu’, proves that more attention is being paid to both the memorialization at the former site of terror, but also shedding light on the lack of memorialization in history. This raises questions about the social treatment of disability, and the

German population’s reaction to the subject. The fact that the topic was so often overlooked has become a lens in which to view the subject of disability in German society, and also raises questions about current and future inclusion of people with disability into everyday life. The fact that this is a German government sponsored memorial speaks volumes to the state importance of the memory of the victims, and also a formal acknowledgement that the topic had been previously overlooked.

The increased attention on the subject in the past ten years is also aiding in the Geneva

Convention’s aim that the atrocities of the Holocaust should never happen again. The most recent monuments and museums not only feature important historical information, but also raise questions about medical and ethical questions about bioengineering, selective , and pre- natal screening. Disability scholars such as Oliver warn about continued negative treatment and segregation of people with disabilities, as a potential indication that history has the capability of repeating itself in connection to the eradication or ostracization of people with disabilities

(Oliver 157).

One of the most telling public comments about the topic of the treatment of people with disabilities in German culture occurred with the 16 000 Euro question of the RTL Quiz Show

“Wer wird Millionär?” [“Who wants to be a Millionaire”] on March 4, 2013395. The question

395 The question read: “Wovon ist häufig die Rede, wenn das Miteinander von Menschen mit und ohne Behinderung gemeint ist? A) Induktion B) Infusion C) Inklusion D) Interpunktion”

262 addressed the pertinent issue of ‘inclusion’, and has brought recent attention to the topic of disability in Germany. The question on this popular game show has been strongly embraced by the Aktion T4 memorialization working group as indicative of changes in the public perception on disability. The Mayor of Oldenburg, Gerd Schwandner, commented that “das Thema

Inklusion dürfte nicht bei einer 16 000-Euro-Frage auftauchen und dort für Probleme sorgen. Es müsste Gegenstand einer 100-Euro-Frage sein – als etwas, das so selbstverständlich ist, dass es sich von allein beantwortet. Wenn wir so weit sind, dass haben wir’s geschaft!” (Berlin Aktion

T4 temporary exhibit, 2013).

The memorialization of Aktion T4 and the representation of its victims is an important topic which has been long delegated to the margins of Holocaust memory work. These first victims represent a selected eradication of a group of peoples deemed unworthy of life, and unworthy of belonging to the German population. The transfer of technology and intelligence to the extermination camps of the East is well documented, and yet the representation of the action remained hidden from public consciousness. The factors of avoidance of the theme of disability, the inability to publicly recognize and prosecute the guilty parties, and the taboo of representing

German suffering, while at the same time admitting guilt, all contributed to this event being hidden away. The silence that long shrouded this topic is now beginning to lift, and these lives worthy of life are now being remembered.

263

Appendix A : Case Studies of Grafeneck, Pirna-Sonnenstein,

and Schloss Hartheim Gedenkstätte

Number Takeover Aktion T4 First Date of Date of Annual Closest

of of dates Memorial Museum Verein number Cities

Victims Institution Opening of

visitors

Grafeneck 10, 654 October January – 1982 2005 1994 15,000 Reutlingen

1939 December Verein in over Stuttgart

1940 Gedenkstätte 150 (60 km)

Grafeneck groups

e.V. (2007)

Pirna- 13, 720 May 1940 June 1940 October 5, June 9, June 3, 1991 7387 Pirna

Sonnenstein 1,031 – – August 1973 2000 Kuratorium (2008) Dresden

14f13 1941 (plaque off Gedenkstätte (27 km)

site) Sonnenstein

e.V.

Hartheim 18,269 March May 1940 May 1950 2004 1995 Alkoven

1940 – August (French Verein Linz (14

1941 victims) Schloss km)

1969 Hartheim

(plaque for

Euthanasia

victims)

264

Grafeneck

Grafeneck Castle Current Documentation Centre

265

Pirna-Sonnenstein

Altstadt Ravine in which they dumped the ashes

Sonnenstein Castle Schlosspark with abandoned buildings Adolf-Hitler-Schule

266

Schloss Hartheim

Train station

Town of Alkoven

Street used to walk

(ca. 20 minutes) to

memorial centre

Community of

Hartheim

267

Appendix B :

Aktion T4 Physicians-In-Charge on Site

Name Institution KZ Date of Death Reason Ernst Baumhard Grafeneck Left T4 to serve in Killed in the war (assistant), the war (navy) Hadamar Irmfried Eberl Brandenburg, Treblinka February 6, 1948 Hanged himself in Bernberg custody in Ulm Rudolf Lonauer Hartheim 14f13 selection May 5, 1945 Suicide and gassing from Mauthausen Horst Schumann Grafeneck, Auschwitz 1983 Illness Sonnenstein Fled to Africa in 1951, extradited to Germany in 1966, released in 1971

Aktion T4 Assistant Physicians on Site

Name Institution KZ Charge Conviction Friedrich Berner Hadamar Left T4 to - - serve in the war, killed in action Kurt Borm Bernberg, Complicity Acquitted, June 6, 1972 (West Sonnenstein German Court) Heinrich Bunke Brandenburg, Bernburg Klaus Endruweit Sonnenstein Hans-Bodo Gorgaß396 Hadamar Killing of mentally 1. Sentenced to death ill patients by gas 2. Sentence commuted to life and lethal imprisonment (1949) injections 3. released from custody 1958 Günter Hennecke Grafeneck, Left T4 to - - Hadamar serve in the war, killed in action Georg Renno Hartheim Arrested in Proceedings dismissed due to Frankfurt 1963 poor health Kurt Schmalenbach Sonnenstein Travelling (physician-in- physician of

396 Gorgaß was the only physician “forced” to take the medical position by Dr. Fritz Bernotat. At his trial he argued that he feared for his wife and family, and that they might suffer for his “inconveniences” (Friedlander 225).

268

charge after 14f13, and Schumann) served in T4 headquarters Aquilin Ullrich Brandenburg Ewald Worthmann Sonnenstein

Other Aktion T4 Personnel

Name Title Sentence / History Date of Death Director, Aktion T4 Suicide with wife and May 19, 1945 two children (Altaussee, Austria) Leonard Conti Physician Hanged himself in October 6, 1945 prison Ernst-Robert Grawitz SS Reich Physician Suicide with wife and April 24, 1945 children Heinrich Gross397 Head of Spiegelgrund Charge of manslaughter December 15, 2005 children’s psychiatric overturned, clinic, Austria unsuccessfully brought to trial twice Werner Heyde Medical Director of Sentenced to death in February 16, 1946 Aktion T4 absentia (1946), escaped American custody, practiced under false name in Flensburg, hung himself in jail before trial for murder Irmgard Huber Head Nurse, Hadamar 8 years in prison Gas Chamber Architect October 15, 1976 Friedrich Mennecke Physician, Eichberg Died awaiting trial 1947 Paul Nitsche Medical Director of Convicted East German March 25, 1948 Aktion T4 Court – sentenced to (executed in Dresden) death for crimes against humanity Carl Schneider Senior researcher for Hanged himself in December 11, 1946 Aktion T4 prison (prison Frankfurt am Main) Hartheim 1940, Fled to Italy, Syria, June 8, 1971 (prison) commandant Sobibor, Treblinka Convicted West German Court– life sentence (1970)

397 For more information about Dr. Gross, please see the documentary Gray Matter.

269

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289

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Feb. 2001.

Museum Exhibits:

Gedenkstätte Grafeneck. Dokumentationszentrum. Grafeneck, Germany. 2005. Information Centre.

Gedenkstätte Pirna-Sonnenstein. Daueraustellung. Pirna, Germany. 2000. Museum.

KZ-Gedenkstätte Mauthausen. Mauthausen. Linz, Austria. 1975. Museum.

290

Lern- und Gedenkort Schloss Hartheim. Gedenkstätte. Alkoven, Austria. 2004. Museum and memorial space.

---. Wert des Lebens. Alkoven, Austria. 2004. Museum.

Stiftung Brandenburgische Gedenkstätten. Sachsenhausen. Sachsenhausen, Germany. 1993. Museum.

Stiftung Gedenkstätten Buchenwald und Mittelbau-Dora. KZ-Gedenkstätte Mittelbau-Dora. Nordhausen, Germany. 1970. Museum.

Monuments:

Eisenman, Peter. Denkmal für die ermordeten Juden Europas. 2005. Cement. Berlin, Germany. May 2005.

Hoheisel, Horst and Andreas Knitz. Das Denkmal der grauen Busse. 2005. Cement. Ravensburg, Germany and travelling installation.

Ponwitz, Heike. Vergangenheit ist Gegenwart. 2005. Glass and Steel. Pirna, Germany. April 2009.

Serra, Richard. Berlin Curves / Berlin Junction. 1987. COR-TEN Steel. Berlin, Germany. June 2013.

Endlich, Stefanie. Falkenstein, Sigrid et al. Tiergartenstraße 4: Geschichte eines schwierigen Ortes. Open-Air-Ausstellung. Berlin, Germany. May 5 – November 17, 2013.

Artwork:

Körnig, Hans. In der Straßenbahn. 1956. Acquatint etching. Stadtmuseum Pirna, Pirna.

Lewandowsky, Via. Sie können Nichts schreien hören: Acht Portraits zur Euthanasie. 1989. Neue Gesellschaft für bildende Kunst, Berlin.

---. Es bleibt nichts übrig. 1989. Acrylic and urine on canvas.

---. Es ist Zeit. 1989. Acrylic and urine on canvas.

---. Gefallen sind die Würfel. 1989. Acrylic and urine on canvas.

---. Man sieht, daß es nie zu Hause ankommen wird. 1989. Acrylic and urine on canvas.

291

---. Rede und Antwort. 1989. Acrylic and urine on canvas.

---. Die Schädigung ging bis zum Kern. 1989. Acrylic and urine on canvas.

---. Was willst du mehr? 1989. Acrylic and urine on canvas.

---. Der zu einer glücklichen Stunde geborene. 1989. Acrylic and urine on canvas.

Niepold, Adelheid. Den Toten ohne Begräbnis. 2003. Gedenkstätte Pirna-Sonnenstein, Pirna.

---. atemlos. 2003. Acrylic.

---. Dogma. 2003. Oil.

---. Höhelhleichnis. 2003. Digital.

---. In den Händen der Gewalt. 2003. Acrylic.

---. letzte Reinigung. 2003. Acrylic.

---. Der Mauerläufer. 2003. Oil.

---. “... mit bitterem Schmerz verspürt mein Herz...“ Elfriede Lohse-Wächtler. 2003. Acrylic.

---. Prägung T4. 2003. Acrylic.

---. Schlaftopfer. 2003. Acrylic.

---. Sonnenglut. 2003. Acrylic.

---. Unerwünschte Kinder. 2003. Acrylic.

---. Die Umarmung. 2003. Oil.

---. Vom Dunkel ins Licht. 2003. Acrylic.

Personal Interviews and Correspondence:

Böhm, Boris. Personal interview. 21 April, 2009.

Dapp, Hans-Ulrich. Personal interview. 30 April, 2009.

Hoheisel, Horst. Personal interview. 19 April, 2009.

Leitner, Irene. Personal interview. 5 April, 2009.

Lewandowsky, Via. Personal correspondence. 16 June, 2009.

292

Rößner, Franka. Personal interview. 29 April, 2009.

Stöckle, Thomas. Personal interview. 29 April, 2009.

Tours:

City of Pirna. “History of Pirna”. Pirna, Germany. 23 April, 2009.

Gedenkstätte Grafeneck. Self-guided tour. Grafeneck, Germany. 4 September, 2007.

---. Self-guided tour. Grafeneck, Germany. 29 April, 2009.

---. 12th grade class tour. Grafeneck, Germany. 29 April, 2009.

Gedenkstätte Pirna-Sonnenstein. 7th grade class tour. Pirna, Germany. 1 September, 2007.

---. 8th grade class tour. Pirna, Germany. 21 April, 2009.

---. Self-guided tour. Pirna, Germany. 22 April, 2009.

Lern- und Gedenkort Schloss Hartheim. IC-Memo ICOM Annual Conference Tour. Alkoven, Austria. 28 August, 2007. Guide: Irene Leitner.

---. Self-guided tour. Alkoven, Austria. 5 April, 2009.

293