Germany as a “Melting Pot”? Conceptions of Otherness Over Time By Emma Gutman Submitted in partial fulfillment of the requirements for a Bachelor of Arts in Anthropology Senior Honors Thesis Brandeis University May 2018 Table of Contents Acknowledgements 3 Abstract 4 Chapter 1: Introduction 5 Chapter 2: Otherness Throughout German History 20 Chapter 3: Being German and (Legally) Becoming German 36 Chapter 4: Getting to Know You: German Attitudes Towards and Experience With Minority Groups 56 Chapter 5: Schaffen Wir Das?: Global Governance in the Refugee Crisis and National, Local, or Individual Responsibility for Integration 80 Chapter 6: Jews and Muslims: Applying the Lessons of the Past to the Present through Holocaust Education 98 Chapter 7: Conclusion 113 Works Cited 120 2 Acknowledgements I would like to thank my advisor, Professor Sarah Lamb, for her enthusiastic support and guidance from the moment I approached her about this topic, way over a year ago and shortly before I was about to leave for abroad. Professor Lamb was invaluable in helping me figure out all the necessary paperwork and procedures for conducting interviews, even when we could not meet in person. When I returned and began working on the paper itself, she was a source of validation for my writing skills and of constructive criticism that pushed me to think more critically and theoretically about the subject matter than ever before, only strengthening the final product. I would also like to thank the entire Anthropology Department at Brandeis University for introducing me, originally just a History major, to this wonderful discipline. I have had some of the most eye-opening educational moments of my undergraduate career during Anthropology class discussions. Furthermore, the more archaeological classes within the major introduced me to my love of material culture and set me on the path I am currently planning to pursue: museum studies and/or libraries and archives. Of course, this thesis would not have been possible without my participants, who generously gave their time and shared their personal experiences and opinions with me over cups of tea, slices of cake, glasses of wine, etc. Thank you, as well, to my host family for making me feel so welcomed and encouraged in my German abilities. Thank you to my friends and roommates for putting up with my crazed demeanor this entire semester. And finally, thank you to my parents for providing constant encouragement and comfort. 3 Abstract Although the German lands have a rich and diverse history prior to the National Socialist regime of the 20th century and since then, Germany is tainted, seemingly forever, by this dark past. The government, fully aware of this reputation, has put a considerable amount of effort into redeeming itself through monuments, Holocaust education, relations with Israel, etc. However, this thesis goes beyond viewing German and Jewish relations in isolation. I explore how Germany’s past experiences with “otherness” throughout history—certainly, including the Jews—affect its current experiences integrating immigrants, minorities, and refugees—particularly Muslim ones. I argue that—although German citizenship has become more inclusive, particularly to other European or at least Western cultures, over time—there is still some semblance of essentialist ideology circulating among Germans. Those who do not fit this mold encounter obstacles to their structural and cultural integration into German society. Governmental solutions to amend this marginalization and aid the Syrian refugees currently at Germany’s borders are often unsustainable, short-sighted, or provisory, demonstrating Germany’s dilemma between its responsibility to atone for the past, its deep-rooted pragmatism, and its enduring hesitation to truly accept non-Germans as they are. By comparing these trends to the failure of Jewish emancipation and suggesting reforms to Holocaust education, I shift the onus of integration onto the Germans themselves. Accordingly, by interviewing Germans—mostly ethnic, but non-ethnic citizens as well—I try to gauge the openness of the average German to multicultural policies that do not merely tolerate “otherness,” but actively encourage it. In doing so, this thesis seeks to contribute to anthropological research concerning the dichotomy between unfortunate, but seemingly natural human inclinations for “othering” and the need for multiculturalism. 4 Chapter 1: Introduction In comparison to the largely Christian population of my suburban South Jersey hometown, there were around four families—including mine—who played the role of the token Jews. Occupying that role was always a bit strange for me. Unlike the children of the other families, I had not gone to Hebrew school, was not bat-mitzvahed, did not know a word of Hebrew, and celebrated only Hanukkah with my family just to fill the void of Christmas. Yet even then I had the sense that my family was undeniably culturally Jewish. That is why my decision to study the German language came as quite a shock to my family. In seventh grade, all students were required to spend a third of the year taking each language offered—French, Spanish, and German—and then pick one to continue on with. My decision was purely motivated by the affability and sheer efficacy of the German teacher. If you wanted to genuinely learn a language, you took German. Though I’m sure that my parents did not and do not mind on a purely practical level, they seemed to cope emotionally with the idea through dark humor, specifically references to the Holocaust. I later learned that my grandmother, who had served as a nurse for the U.S. Army in the Second World War, blatantly disapproved but had never said anything to avoid hurting my feelings. Through taking stock of these reactions, I realized that a large part of the Jewish identity is now defined by the Holocaust. Mutual suffering bonds me and my family to other Jews, even those who propound the utmost extent of orthodoxy. There is a sense of solidarity through suffering. We all know that, regardless of our differences, we were all grouped together and would be again if history were doomed to repeat itself. I became particularly perceptive to this while participating in a German exchange program during 5 my junior year of high school. Juxtaposed against both my non-Jewish classmates and the setting we were in, I felt more Jewish than I ever had before. For instance, while visiting the Jewish Museum in Berlin, I was singled out of the group and invited to participate in the exhibit Die ganze Wahrheit: was Sie schon immer über Juden wissen wollten (The Whole Truth: Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Jews), or more specifically the portion of the exhibit known derogatorily as “Jew in a Box.” This element of the exhibition involved a glass case where a person of Jewish descent would sit for a few hours and directly answer questions from visitors about Judaism, Jewishness, Jewish history, etc. In hindsight, I find this a wonderfully innovative way to facilitate dialogue not just about Jews but also between Jews and Germans—something that otherwise does not take place enough in Germany. At the time, and particularly at that age, I felt extremely uncomfortable being asked to represent the entirety of my supposed ethnic/cultural/religious group. I felt a similar sensation while visiting Dachau. After our tour, I felt sick to my stomach and marveled at how my classmates could just go eat lunch at the museum cafeteria. Despite these isolating experiences, I also found myself particularly falling in love with Berlin, its multiculturalism, and its history, and I vowed to be back. As I got further into my German language education, my respect for Germany grew. Irrespective of Jewish people’s feelings towards the country, it is undeniable that the Germany of this day and age has probably done more to engage with its dark history than any other country guilty of genocidal crimes. The United States hardly does enough to acknowledge its decimation of the native American population, and the standards of education about slavery and the Jim Crow era vary depending on where you are in the 6 country; whitewashed, revisionist accounts of the Nanking Massacre run rampant in Japan; Turkey’s government outright denies that the Armenian genocide even happened. The list goes on. Meanwhile, the German language has an actual word to describe the process of “overcoming the past”: Vergangenheitsbewältigung. All sites relating to Judaism are kept under heavy surveillance. Holocaust denial and the use of the swastika or any other Nazi symbols are strictly forbidden. Plaques, monuments, and Stolpersteine1 are ubiquitous throughout all of Germany. No German child can graduate from high school without first being imparted with a deep understanding of the devastation of the Holocaust, and perhaps even a sense of Kollektivschuld (collective guilt). In addition to noticing its unparalleled engagement with its history, I have seen Germany steadily coming into its own as a world power during my lifetime, over the last 22 years. This development seemed to reach its peak during my first semester at college. While taking Introduction to International and Global Studies, I learned that Germany had been named the best country in the world, according to the 2014 Nation Brands Index. This survey ranks countries based on outsiders’ perceptions of their people, governance, exports, tourism, investment and immigration, and culture and heritage. Germany’s ranking seemed like a validation, not only of my choice to pursue the German language, but also of the tremendous progress and revival the country has experienced since World War II. But where I saw the potential for reconciliation, others saw an opportunity to escape life-threatening circumstances and start new, stable lives. 1 The direct translation would be “stumbling stones.” This is the name for a European- wide project to commemorate the victims of National Socialism, spearheaded by German artist Gunter Demnig.