Lebensraum:
policy or rhetoric?
This article attempts to unravel
what Hitler really meant when he talked about
living space for the German people.
When the Germans talked of Lebensraum, or `living space',
they used the term to denote a perceived need to have enough
physical room to provide for themselves comfortably. In
particular, it identified the possession of enough land to
feed a population large enough to ensure Germany a place on
the world stage. Hitler did not just start talking about the
need to conquer Lebensraum in 1941; its origins lay much
further back than even 1939. Anti-Nazi newspaper columnists
(for example in Der Deutsche in Polen) observed during the
late 1930s that Hitler's foreign policy involved something
more than just planless initiatives, improvisation and
contradictory imperatives. They said that its main direction
had been well-established during the mid-1920s.
The second
volume of Mein Kampf, published in December 1926, contained
a chapter entitled `Eastern Orientation and Eastern Policy'.
Here Hitler outlined his thinking about Russia -- `the most
decisive concern of all German foreign affairs'. Believing
that only `an adequately large space on this earth assures a
nation freedom of existence', he said it was impossible for
a country like Germany, `limited to the absurd area of five
hundred thousand square kilometres', ever to attain the
status of a world power. Likewise he said there had to be `a
healthy, viable natural relationship between the nation's
population and growth' on the one hand, and `the quantity
and quality of its soil' on the other. He believed that
Germany's population was far too large for the area which it
inhabited, and so the `highest aim of foreign policy' was
`to bring the soil into harmony with the population'. With
the statement that national boundaries are only `made by man
and changed by man' he indicated the intention of extending
Germany's frontiers until the nation had a much greater area
of land for each of its inhabitants.
Where
could Hitler's country expand? `If we speak of soil in
Europe today, we can primarily have in mind only Russia and
her vassal border states.' He knew well that Russia's
marches were much more thinly populated than the lands
elsewhere in Europe. In addition, of course, Hitler believed
that Jews had used the revolution of 1917 to seize control
of the Russian empire, and were seeking a base from which to
realise ambitions for world domination. Germany, said
Hitler, `is today the next great war aim' of the Jewish
Bolsheviks. To seize Russia's lands, therefore, would not
only enlarge Germany's space, it would also remove a threat
which he understood to be especially urgent. More
pragmatically, Hitler also said that there was no use
thinking of entering into a lasting alliance with Russia.
Not only were her leaders `common blood-stained criminals',
but the presence of Poland (with an invariably hostile
government) between the two states meant that, in the event
of war, that country would have to be subdued before Russia
could come to Germany's aid. No matter which way Hitler
looked at the issue, it made sense for Germany to seize the
lands which lay to her East.
Hitler
developed the idea in his Second Book, written while he
stayed at his mountain retreat on Obersalzberg during the
summer of 1928. This started life as an attempt to sharpen
further his foreign policy principles, and to explain how
the movement should react to Mussolini's determination to
italianise the South Tyrol, where a number of ethnic Germans
lived. In the event, the book remained secret until it was
discovered by an historian after the Second World War.
Second
Book contains a much more pithy and well-rounded statement
of Hitler's views than Mein Kampf. The starting point of his
argument was the assumption that people are driven by laws
of nature to reproduce and to acquire food. Since the world
only has a limited amount of space, and since the number of
people inhabiting it is constantly increasing, sooner or
later competition between nations for land is inevitable. In
this light, history, he argued, is the `struggle for daily
bread' between different peoples. Hitler believed Germany's
space was just too small to be viable. For instance, it did
not provide protection for the nation, since Polish or Czech
bombers could reach
Berlin in about an hour's flying time. French planes could
be over the Rhineland's industry in under half the time.
What was
to be done? Hitler identified four options. Germany could do
nothing, in which case the initiative would be passed
elsewhere with disastrous results. The country could
strengthen itself through trade, but in so doing sooner or
later would come into conflict with the British empire. It
could re-establish its borders of 1914, but Hitler dismissed
this possibility as 'insufficient from a national
standpoint, unsatisfactory from a military point of view,
[and] impossible from a folkish standpoint'. The final
option, and the favoured one, was for Germany to go to war
with a `clear, far-seeing territorial policy' which would
involve the seizure of land in the East. Specifically,
Second Book recommended the acquisition of 500,000 square
kilometres of land from Russia's borders. To put the demand
into context, Germany had only lost 70,000 square kilometres
by the Treaty of Versailles. If so much land came into
German possession, Hitler believed his nation's people would
no longer be forced to work in poorly paid factory jobs.
They could emigrate East, colonise the land and live as
farmers who would be ready to take up weapons to protect
their land from any threat that might appear in the future.
War veterans, who fought for this Lebensraum, would receive
generous parcels of land once victory was assured.
According to Hermann Rauschning, Hitler returned to this
theme in 1932-34. Rauschning was a senior figure in the Nazi
movement in Danzig who became disillusioned with the party
and left it. What he wrote afterwards has been the subject
of much debate. In his recent biography, Ian Kershaw rejects
the memoirs Hitler Speaks as thoroughly disreputable. Five
years previously, he had, however, accepted that the same
book was in line with what we already knew about Hitler.
Even if we treat what Rauschning wrote with care, there is
no doubting that one passage needs to be recorded here.
During a meeting, Rauschning relates that Hitler expressed
views vigorously on the radical alteration of the population
structures of central and eastern Europe. He called for the
creation of a core of 80-100 million Germans who would
colonise at least Bohemia, Moravia, western Poland and the
Baltic States. He planned to deport the Czechs to Siberia
and germanise the Baltic peoples. Any easterners left in the
conquered territories would exist as slaves tilling the soil
of German overlords. Here was a further vision for the
creation of German Lebensraum.
Unlike the
contemporary anti-Nazi columnists, after the war Martin
Broszat argued that Hitler's writings and statements did not
constitute a programme which directly determined his
actions. Rather they provided a series of appealing
propaganda images which helped give shape to the Nazi
movement and which rallied the support of the nation. Party
members could put their differences to one side and dedicate
themselves to complete support for an organisation oriented
towards a far-sighted vision of territorial conquest; other
Germans could feel enthusiasm for the prospect of winning an
extensive empire. But was Broszat right?
As sketched
out in Mein Kampf, Second Book and Hitler Speaks, the
central ideas in Hitler's thinking form a roughly consistent
whole. There is no reason to doubt that Hitler believed the
basic model of man which he used to underpin his ideology:
i.e. human beings are divided by nationality, require food
to live and tend to increase in numbers. The framework he
built on this base accords well with what the Fuhrer stood
for generally. He certainly was driven by anti-Semitism and
anti-Communism. The way he wove additional threads into his
doctrine looks basically plausible too. The notion that
there could be no lasting alliance with Russia was a logical
consequence; and the idea that Germany's borders could not
provide adequately for her defence was understandable given
the development of new military technologies and Germany's
restrictions under the Treaty of Versailles.
There is
indeed such a crudity about Hitler's ideas that many readers
may remain sceptical about their precise status. But space
and the interplay of nationalities had always been a theme
integral to Hitler's life. Born in the multi-racial Habsburg
Empire, he started out in an area of Austria which saw
numerous Czech migrants. He may himself have had a name
(Hitler) with Czech connections (in its similarity to the
Czech names Hidlar and Hidlarcek). Hitler had left school
early, picked up his education at the `school of life' found
in the ethnically diverse city of Vienna and by reading
whatever (often racialist pamphlets) took his fancy. Even as
an adult he revered novels by Karl May -- Westerns in which
white settlers fought off attacks by Indians as they
colonised the `Wild West'. How Hitler developed his concerns
was conditioned by the turns his life took. He became an
active politician who devoted considerable energy to public
speaking, and had
only a limited amount of time to devote to developing his
detailed political philosophy. Although Lebensraum was never
a sophisticated policy, it was Hitler's response to life
experiences and influences expressed the best way he knew
how.
Hitler's
ideas had a wider political and intellectual context. In the
Kaiserreich, colonisation had long been a hot topic. The
Eastern Marches Association was founded in 1894 and for two
decades worked vigorously inside Prussia to germanise areas
where farms and villages were dominated by Poles. Others
were more outward-looking. The Pan-German League, led by
Heinrich ClaB, had its own expansionist doctrine. This
preoccupation partly reflected the geographical distribution
of Germans. They were never limited to the space within the
German and Austrian lands. Following past migrations, German
communities could also be found in Russia, the Baltic
provinces of the Russian empire, the Ukraine, Hungary,
Romania and the Balkans. Theodor Schiemann was drawn from a
Baltic German family and became influential at the Kaiser's
court. He believed Germans were `forced by our geographical
situation, by poor soil ... by an amazing increase in our
population ... to spread and to gain for us and for our
sons'. In due course, two other Baltic Germans (Alfred
Rosenberg and Max-Erwin Scheubner-Richter) became associates
of Hitler. Doubtless they made him doubly aware of the
existence of far-flung German settlements and the history of
the nation's ties with the East.
The
experiences of the First World War emphasised the prizes
that Germany might gain there. Her troops occupied vast
tracts from the Baltic to the Black Sea. At the time, a
number of people advocated colonisation. In 1915, General
Erich von Ludendorff (who later participated with Hitler in
the Beer Hall Putsch) commented of Poland that, `Here we
shall win breeding ground for the men needed for further
battles in the East.' He wanted to annex a strip of land in
the west of Polish territory, expel its population and
settle it with Germans. In 1917 he recommended the
annexation of Lithuania and Latvia, `as we need more land
for the people's nourishment'. Ludendorff also wanted to
settle ethnic Germans in territories on the Crimean
peninsula in the Ukraine. Late in the war some efforts were
made to get this project off the ground.
Mainstream
scholarly thought included preoccupations with space.
`Geopolitics' tried to amalgamate the study of territory and
power. In Germany, its origins lay in the work of Friedrich
Ratzel, but its most famous exponent was a professor of
geography at Munich University, Karl Haushofer. Rudolf Hess
was his student, and the Fuhrer and the professor became
acquainted during the early 1920s. Haushofer believed that
whoever controlled the Eurasian heartland could control the
world. In due course he drew maps showing Leningrad, Moscow,
the Volga valley and the Ukraine as all belonging to
`German' territory.
Yet, once
Hitler's idea of Lebensraum was extended beyond its
essentials, and as it began to be turned into reality,
limits to its application and ambiguities did begin to
cation and ambiguities did begin to emerge. Some of the
limitations are only just being understood by historians.
Some of the ambiguities even confused Hitler's subordinates.
Henry Ashby
Turner, at Yale University, sees Hitler's ideas as
antimodern rejections of industrial society, arguing that
Lebensraum was nothing more than an attempt by the Nazis to
restore age-old beliefs in a life governed by the principles
of `Blut und Boden'. Obviously blood and soil were important
to Hitler's thinking, but they were only part of his mental
world. He intended the full scope of his empire to be more
than just rural settlement and room for population growth.
Hitler
certainly wanted vast areas for colonisation by farmers, but
he never saw Germany becoming just a massive agricultural
idyll. In October 1928, he commented that an economy could
only be healthy when there was a balance between
agricultural and industrial productivity. The capture of
massive agricultural lands in eastern Europe was not
supposed to result in all Germany's factories disappearing,
but it was a means to restoring a lost equilibrium to a
society which had become disproportionately industrialised.
Hitler was well aware that the East could supply him not
only with grain, but also with iron ore, coal, nickel,
manganese, molybdenum and oil. Indeed, once land in the East
began to be captured, plans developed to industrialise
regions even there. By the summer of 1942 Hans Frank, the
leader of the Government General in southern Poland, was
talking about his territory starting a long-term process of
industrialisation for the benefit of the Reich.
If
Germany was to retain its factories, it was to keep its
cities too. There were even plans to extend
them. As a child, Hitler had planned to rebuild Linz; as a
young adult he had done to same for Vienna. Comparable
ambitions never left him. Once chancellor of Germany, he
authorised the redevelopment of first twenty-five, and by
1941 fully fifty, urban centres. These included a number of
Fuhrer-cities which were to be particularly large and
impressive. Hamburg was to enjoy one of the biggest bridges
and some of the tallest skyscrapers in the world. Linz was
to become a world centre for the arts. But at the heart of
the plans lay Berlin. It was to be expanded into a
`millennial city' millions strong and focused on a central
avenue three miles in length, a domed party building able to
hold 150,000 people, and a triumphal arch made of granite,
carved with the names of Germany's 1.8 million causalities
of the First World War. Germany's future did not lie with
the rural life alone; it lay in a new balance between
village and city.
It is
understandable that historians misinterpreted the limits to
the idea of Lebensraum; Nazis had problems with the concept
too. Hitler was always vague about how exactly the
territories in the East should be ruled. The orthodox
National Socialist interpretation was of the area being
subject to direct control and slowly colonised. But not
everyone made this assumption. Alfred Rosenberg, who had
been born in Reval (now Tallinn in Estonia) and eventually
became Reich Minister for the Eastern Territories, had his
own views. As early as 1927 he argued that National
Socialism should take account of the existence of strong
nationalist movements in areas such as the Baltic States,
the Ukraine and the Caucasus. He wanted Germany to invade
these areas and establish puppet states which would act as a
cordon sanitaire between the Reich and Russia. In the early
stages of the Second World War, Hitler himself briefly
considered establishing a semi-independent Ukraine.
The
Lebensraum project changed with implementation. Between 1939
and 1940 Hitler believed in the principle of
Grossraumwirtschaft -- literally `the economy of a big
space'. This meant that different parts of conquered Europe
would be allotted different economic functions. At this
point, the Government General was to become a massive labour
camp containing 13 million Poles who would live on small
farms. They would constitute an itinerant force of seasonal
workers for the German Reich. This agenda changed in March
1941. Now Hitler said that, over the next 15-20 years, all
foreigners would be removed from the Government General,
which would become home to between 4 and 5 million Germans.
After the launching of Operation Barbarossa on June 22nd,
1941, designs for the East became even more extensive. By
the end of the year, the Reich Security Head Office had
drawn up a plan for the germanisation of the whole of the
East, including the Baltic States, Poland, Czechoslovakia,
the Ukraine and White Ruthenia. Its long-term vision
(extending centuries into the future) was to turn the whole
area into home for 600 million Germans. More immediately,
over twenty years, between 40 and 45 million Slavic people
would be removed from Europe to make way for German
settlers. The idea was so ambitious it could only have been
developed with the Fuhrer's patronage.
The
mistakes made, both at the time and since, about what Hitler
meant by Lebensraum must give rise to more questions about
the precise status of the concept. Should something like
this really be regarded as a serious policy intention? Or
did it grow up just as a kind of slogan, the inadequacy of
which became particularly apparent when a person tried
either to understand all its implications or to turn it into
reality? One thing stands out -- the sincerity of Hitler's
belief in the value of imperial conquest. Despite all the
inconsistencies in trying to give concrete form to the
vision, never once did those around Hitler become
disillusioned and suggest he was being cynical or dishonest.
Hitler's idea of living space was not just a propaganda
image. It was the germ of a serious policy proposal, but one
left in such a state of underdevelopment by its creator that
limitations and ambiguities duly emerged. No one ever said
the subject matter of history has to be completely logical.
Martyn
Housden is Lecturer in Modern History at the University of
Bradford.
Adapted
from History Review.
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