small acts of resistance

This here, watch, spread it and think.

 

When the nazis came to power in Germany, my father was a toddler, when Germany finally capitulated, he had just turned 16. Throughout his childhood, his primary school years and a big chunk of his secondary education, access to literature, art, music, media, was strictly controlled. Only one radio station was permitted and households had to purchase a specially designed radio, the Volksempfänger, for this. I know from his recollections that many households had more than one radio and that even on the Volksempfänger, foreign radio stations could be listened to. It took some fiddling and obviously, secrecy. There is this story that one day, my father's older sister was picked up by a suitor for a date and apparently, he turned pale and rushed to my grandfather's big old radio to quickly move the dial from BBC back to where it had to be. 

Anyway, imagine a childhood and education where most books were banned, where all education materials, including songs, music, outdoor activities, sports and so on were strictly controlled. Also, imagine children in compulsory uniforms. (This is one reason why there are no school uniforms in Germany and youth organisations like the Scouts are not very popular here.) In 1939, six years after the nazis came to power and just before Germany started WWII, the Hitler youth, which had existed for a decade as a "voluntary" youth club for boys (in fact a paramilitary training camp) became mandatory for all boys from age 10 upwards. My father turned 10 that year. My grandfather managed to convince the local police chief that my father, his 10-year old son, a small shy boy, was very skilled with horses and could be trusted to look after the parade horses the police kept for special occasions. My father had never been near a horse but one of his uncles gave him a crash course and so my father - instead of marching and parading with uniformed school boys - mucked out stables and groomed horses for many years, all of which could obviously not be done in uniform. I call this an act of resistance, albeit a small one.

Another one was my father's classics teachers. Secondary school with only nazi approved literature, just try and think what it may entail.  While the officials were busy banning and burning novels and picture books and history books, my father and his school mates studied Latin and Greek, they translated and discussed in the original language, texts on democracy, failed tyrants, how to debate, the power of public participation, philosophy, but also the beauty of nature, poetry, art. Nobody stopped them, ancient classics, these old dusty books, they meant nothing to the nazis, they had no idea. We used to laugh at my father's party pieces, quoting original verses and lines from Homer and Plato, Aristotle and Tacitus.