From the celebrated historian of Nazi Germany, the story of a remarkable but completely unsung group that risked everything to help the most vulnerable
In the early 1920s amidst the upheaval of Weimar Germany, a small group of peaceable idealists began to meet, practicing a quiet, communal life focused on self-improvement. For the most part, they had come to know each other while attending adult education classes in the city of Essen. But “the Bund,” as they called their group, had lofty aspirations—under the direction of their leader Artur Jacobs, its members hoped to forge an ideal community that would serve as a model for society at large. But with the ascent of the Nazis, the Bund was forced to reevaluate its mission, focusing instead on offering assistance to the persecuted, despite the great risk. Their activities ranged from visiting devastated Jewish families after Kristallnacht, to sending illicit letters and parcels of food and clothes to deportees in concentration camps, to sheltering political dissidents and Jews on the run.
What became of this group? And how should its deeds—often small, seemingly insignificant acts of kindness and assistance—be evaluated in the broader history of life under the Nazis? Drawing on a striking set of previously unpublished letters, diaries, Gestapo reports, other documents, and his own interviews with survivors, historian Mark Roseman shows how and why the Bund undertook its dangerous work. It is an extraordinary story in its own right, but Roseman takes us deeper, encouraging us to rethink the concepts of resistance and rescue under the Nazis, ideas too often hijacked by popular notions of individual heroism or political idealism. Above all, the Bund’s story is one that sheds new light on what it meant to offer a helping hand in this dark time.
In this thorough work, historian Roseman details the wartime history of the Bund, a German socialist group whose aim was to model the perfect society. Bund members met in the forests for meditation and communion with nature, lived in a communal lodge, discussed self-improvement, and worked to create a better world through choirs and dance. Labeled an illegal group in 1933 by Hitler's regime, the Bund sought to retain its ideals and integrity, but survival often meant making unpalatable choices: responding to military call-ups and watching members' children participate in Hitler Youth organizations. But Roseman argues the group should be acknowledged as rescuers; members of the Bund actively sheltered two of its Jewish members, and mailed hundreds of packages to Jewish families deported to the Theresienstadt ghetto. Closely analyzing diaries, coded correspondence, postwar speeches made by Bund leaders, and interviews, Roseman paints a picture of a group trapped by circumstances who were unable to do much but watch as their Jewish neighbors boarded transports to Auschwitz. As such, he may not convince readers that the Bund were great rescuers, rather than typical German citizens who had to look away to save themselves. The analytical bent of the text may make it too slow for some readers, but those seeking illumination of a little-discussed facet of Nazi-era German life will find it worthy.