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October/November 1998
Armseliges Deutschland:
War Defeat, Reparations, Inflation, and the Year 1923 in German History
By Robert A. Selig
In the summer of 1923 the Rüffelmacher family of Altenberg near Nuremberg had only one wish: to get out of Germany. They would "sehr gern hier Abschied nehmen" (they would very gladly bid farewell from here), wrote 45-year-old Käthe to her children Mathias (18), Friedrich (16), and Marie (15) in Bay City, Michigan, on August 9, 1923. "It is no longer nice here." She asked them to make haste that she and her husband, along with their three other children—Hans (14), Käthe (11), George (3)—and cousin Maria (15) could soon join them in the United States. Neither religious persecution nor political oppression lay behind this plea, nor were they fleeing the law: Poverty drove them away. Käthe's husband Leonhard (50) "doesn't even earn 2 million a week," not enough to feed the five hungry mouths in the family.
What? Two million a week not enough to live on?
A look at the prices in Käthe's letter explains her despair. In early August 1923 one pound of meat stood at 180,000 marks, a four-pound loaf of bread at 90,000, a liter of beer at 30,000; one egg
cost more or less 15,000 marks. And one U.S. dollar brought 7,000,000 marks. In Winterhausen near Würzburg 60-year-old Johann Hofmann recorded in his diary in stunned disbelief how it was "almost
indescribable how much everything cost." A pound of butter: 20,000 marks. A cow: 20,000,000 marks. A six-pound loaf of bread: 4,800 marks. One month later that loaf cost 135,000 marks, in early September,
450,000. In early October it was 3,500,000 marks, and in mid-November a mind-boggling 220,000,000,000 marks—or just about 5 cents because on November 15 one U.S. dollar was worth 4,200,000,000,000, that is 4.2
trillion marks.
Five years after the end of World War I financial chaos ruled in Germany; civil war and disintegration of the country seemed imminent. It was commonly felt that the culprits were the socialist
government of the "November Criminals" in Berlin, and France, Great Britain, and the United States, the winners of the war. In November 1918 the former had staged a treasonous revolution; in June of
1919 the latter had forced Germany to sign the Treaty of Versailles. Things were not expected to get better until the Weimar Republic was overthrown and the chains of Versailles were broken. But was that really
true?
Facing certain defeat, the Imperial High Command under Paul von Hindenburg and Erich Ludendorff had told the civilian government in September 1918 to seek an armistice based on U.S. President
Woodrow Wilson's 14 Points. Announced in January 1918 as America's war aims, they called for an end to secret diplomacy and "open covenants of peace, openly arrived at." The plan demanded freedom of
the seas, the removal of trade barriers, general disarmament, and the right of self-determination of nations. Germany was to evacuate Belgium, return Alsace-Lorraine to France, renounce its conquests made in the
Treaty of Brest-Litovsk with Soviet Russia in March 1918, and agree to the establishment of a Polish state. But the situation in eastern Europe was still unstable, and with anti-Bolshevism rampant not only in
Berlin but in London, Paris, and Washington as well, Germany might not have to meet these conditions. Germans could live with a peace based on Wilson's points, because the war had devastated French, not German,
soil and the Bolshevik revolution had removed the military threat in the east.
The Germans immediately interpreted the Allied response of mid-October as a pactum de contrahendo, an unwritten agreement between the warring sides, by which the Allies had also accepted
Wilson's program. Then, in the last days of October, sailors in Kiel refused to raise anchor for a suicide mission. The mutiny spread and turned into a nation-wide revolution. Armistice negotiations opened on
November 8; the next day William II abdicated and Social-Democrat Philipp Scheidemann proclaimed the German Republic. On November 11 the government of Friedrich Ebert signed the armistice. On January 18, 1919,
the peace conference opened in the same Hall of Mirrors in Versailles where Otto von Bismarck had proclaimed the German Empire exactly 48 years earlier.
The Germans, though excluded from the negotiations, awaited the results with confidence, seeing that the change in government had met one of Wilson's preconditions for peace. Several occurrences
were meant to show that the war-time aim of making the "world safe for democracy" had been achieved: the brutal suppression of the communist-led Spartakus Revolt in Berlin in January 1919, obstruction
of Kurt Eisner's anarchist experiment in Munich in February, the prevention of a Bavarian Soviet Republic in April by regular troops and irregular Freikorps, and elections for a Constituent Assembly—which met in
Weimar rather than in civil-war-torn Berlin, hence the name Weimar Republic.
Expectations for a lenient peace were so high that the draft treaty handed to the Germans on May 7 came as a profound shock. The conditions "surpass in their...hatred," so Hoffmann,
"even the worst fears." Germany would lose 13 percent of its territory, 10 percent of its population, and all its colonies. The army was reduced to 100,000 long-serving volunteers; it would have no
planes, submarines, or ships of more than 10,000 tons. The country's rivers would be under international control, the left bank of the Rhine occupied for 15 years. Germany had to agree to plebiscites in
Schleswig, Silesia, and East Prussia; could place no tariffs on imports from Allied countries until 1925; and would be excluded from the League of Nations until 1926. Much of this contradicted Wilson's 14
Points, though most of the territorial losses had been expected; and by ceding territory in the agricultural East, with its unskilled labor force, to Poland, Germany wrote off some of its structural problems.
The real bone of contention was Article 231 of the treaty, the so-called "War Guilt Clause." It forced Germany to accept responsibility "for causing all the loss and damage" to
its enemies "as a consequence of the war imposed upon them by the aggression of Germany and her allies." The Article not only held Germany morally responsible for the war but formed the legal basis for
reparations as well. The Germans were to make restitution not because they had lost the war—they could have lived with that—but because they had started it. No German agreed with such an interpretation of
events: Hoffmann expressed a universally held opinion when he wrote that the Allies had "as much responsibility, nay, even more than Germany, for the outbreak of the war."
"What hand would not wither that binds itself and us in these fetters?" Scheidemann asked in disbelief. Yet, faced with an Allied ultimatum, they signed the treaty on June 28, the fifth
anniversary of the murder of Austrian Archduke Francis Ferdinand. Virtually all Germans viewed the treaty as pure and simple revenge, an attempt to crush the country for the remainder of the century. The
rightwing Deutsche Zeitung, published with a black band of mourning, greeted the news with "Vengeance! German nation!... Vengeance for the shame of 1919!" The Frankfurter Zeitung declared that "it must not and it cannot remain so." The National Assembly ratified the treaty in July, but hardly a German intended to live up to it.
They felt no obligation to do so because in their minds the Allies had betrayed them, forced them to sign the treaty once they could no longer resume the fight. In July 1919 General John J.
"Black Jack" Pershing's worst fears of late 1918 came true: "We should never have (signed the armistice). If (the politicians) had given us another ten days we would have rounded up the entire
German Army, captured it, humiliated it.... German troops today are marching back into Germany announcing that they have never been defeated." Reeling from defeat and looking for a scapegoat for the lost
war, the Germans convinced themselves and believed because they wanted to believe, that while still undefeated on the battlefield, they had signed an armistice in order to prevent unnecessary bloodshed. When the
subsequent peace-treaty did not reflect Wilson's points, the myth arose that Germany had not been defeated in honest battle but by dishonest deceit.
Not just the Allies were seen to have betrayed Germany. Treasonous elements within the country—socialists, communists, pacifists, war profiteers, those who now formed the government in Berlin—had
staged a revolution in November 1918 just as armistice negotiations were getting under way and "stabbed" the army "in the back." Nothing could have been further from the truth, but when war
hero Hindenburg testified as much before the Reichstag on November 18, 1919, the Dolchstosslegende, or the myth of being stabbed in the back, also gained universal acceptance. How patriotic Germans would
deal with these November Criminals became apparent with the murder of Rosa Luxemburg, Karl Liebknecht, and Kurt Eisner in 1919. Karl Gereis and Mathias Erzberger in 1921 and Foreign Minister Walther Rathenau in
1922 form the beginning of a long line of Germans murdered by the far right—a line that leads directly to Auschwitz and Dachau.
The enemy without was more difficult to attack, though few doubted that in the long run "vengeance" meant war. In the short run Germany had to husband its resources and shield them from
the Allies, because the country was already teetering on the brink of bankruptcy. Rather than finance the war through taxes, the Imperial government had financed it through bonds and loans. Between 1913 and 1919
the national debt rose from five to 154 billion gold marks, while paper money in circulation increased from two to 45 billion. At five billion marks, interest on the national debt was larger than the Imperial
budget had been in 1913. As the gap between receipts and expenditures continued to grow in 1919, the policy of reckless borrowing, inflation, and currency devaluation continued as well.
Enter reparations. The Treaty of Versailles had not specified an amount, but in the spring of 1920, the Allies estimated their total war-related expenditures at 632 billion gold marks or $158
billion (approx. $1,450,000,000,000 in 1998 dollars when adjusted for inflation—that same year, the federal budget stood at $6.4 billion, declining to $3.3 billion in 1923). Even the Allies realized that
paybacks at that level were beyond the means of Germany, which had expected to pay 30 billion over 30 years. At the Boulogne Conference in June 1920, the Allies presented them with a bill of 269 billion gold
marks (including interest) to be paid by 1963, though they reduced it to 226 billion in January 1921. When the Germans rejected these terms, French troops occupied Dortmund and Düsseldorf in March. In April a
somewhat chastened Germany countered with an offer of 50 billion (200 billion including interest), but there was a hitch: Germany insisted that Article 231 be dropped. This the Allies refused to do in London in
May 1921 and set Germany's obligations at 132 billion gold marks at six-percent interest, to be paid at 2 billion annually, plus 26 percent of the value of all German exports with final payments in 1988. In less
than a year the Allies had cut their bill in half.
For the Germans that was not good enough, especially since the report of the World War Foreign Debt Commission to the U.S. Congress in February 1922 complicated the issue even more. Debts owed the
United States amounted to some $13 billion (52 billion gold marks). Of the 21 debtors, Great Britain owed the most with $4.9 billion; France owed $4.1 billion; Italy about $2 billion; and down to $26,000 for
Liberia. The U.S. Treasury wanted the money back at two-percent interest over 62 years, i.e. by 1984. Since none of the debtors had the funds to pay, and since the United States refused to swap debts—Great
Britain alone was owed more than $10 billion—the only way for them to pay the United States was to insist that Germany make reparations to the letter of the law.
Germany had no intention of doing this and continued to resort to the printing press. By late 1921 the German budget could no longer be balanced with conventional means. After a first payment of
one billion marks under the London payments plan, the country asked for a moratorium in July 1922 and declared that it could make no cash payments in 1923 or 1924. The Reparations Commission declared Germany in
default in December 1922. In early January 1923, France, with Belgian and Italian support but against British wishes, sent 60,000 men to occupy the Ruhr River. By now one U.S. dollar was worth 18,000 marks, and
the budget deficit had reached 469 billion. The German government called on the population to offer "passive resistance" and forbade officials to take orders from the occupying forces. Economic life
along the Rhine came to a standstill. The Germans hoped that the loss of reparations in coal and iron ore would convince the French that it was more profitable to cooperate with than to fight Germany.
But time was on France's side. As long as passive resistance lasted, the German government not only lost the tax income from its industrial base but had to keep the population alive as well.
Deprived of the coal from the Ruhr mines, the government spent all its foreign currency reserves during the spring of 1923 to buy coal from abroad. As its financial needs increased sevenfold, the gap was once
again filled with the printing press. Notes in circulation increased to 663 billion marks by August and the floating debt topped one trillion marks: there was no German currency any more. French-sponsored
separatist movements along the Rhine and in Silesia, impending leftwing revolutions in Thuringia and Saxony, and open treason in Bavaria, where Prime Minister Gustav von Kahr appointed himself "State
Commissar General" in cooperation with General von Lossow, seemed to foreshadow the complete disintegration of the country.
Germany played chicken with the highest stakes—and lost. On September 26 Berlin cried "chicken," revoked the policy of passive resistance, and declared a state of emergency. Saxony was
occupied by Reichswehr troops in late October. A communist-inspired uprising in Hamburg was suppressed in early November. On the 15th came the long overdue stabilization of the Reichsmark, which was exchanged at
the rate of one billion to one Rentenmark. Overnight Germany's internal World War I debts were reduced to a mere 154 Rentenmark.
By then the Rueffelmachers were safely in Michigan. But for most Germans, including Hoffmann, the Rentenmark represented "fraudulent bankruptcy" by their own government. Using admittedly
"vengeful" French reparations demands as an excuse, the government "shook off its debts by defrauding its children of savings accumulated by the sweat of their brows, sentenced many old people to
starvation (Hungerdasein), and even drove many of its citizens...to suicide." Hoffmann wrote from experience.
As war bonds, pensions, and lifetime savings became worthless, he witnessed how "tears spring from the eyes" of people Hoffmann had known all his life. They faced poverty and the
humiliation of begging, "denn es langt nicht (because there just is not enough)." Many members of the older generation, "will once again sit hungry at the dinner table and—at 70 or 80 years of age—spend a sleepless night because worry and hunger drive the sleep away." In late November 1923 Hoffmann recorded that "on the 20th at 8 in the evening 65-year-old merchant Lorenz Trunk shot himself in his bed. He too is a victim of these hard times."
The government had betrayed its people once again and lost what little trust and faith the middle classes had in the democratic system. The far left and the far right would always oppose the
"Weimar System." When the depression hit in 1930, the middle classes, with nothing left to fall back on, would join them.
This true legacy of the government-sponsored inflation of 1923 becomes clear only with the benefit of hindsight. Even Johann Hoffman failed to record the final event of that crazy year when police
bullets stopped a few hundred rightwing radicals led by a former general and a former army private in front of the Feldherrnhalle in Munich early on November 9, 1923. The general was Erich Ludendorff, the
private was Adolf Hitler.
Contributing editor Robert A. Selig writes from Holland, Michigan. He would like to thank Mrs. Käthe Stroemer and Mr. and Mrs. Clarence Stroemer for permission to use materials in their possession.
The German Electoral - Political System
One of the World's Most Complicated
By John Dornberg
German voters have far fewer choices to make on the ballot than Americans. Yet their electoral and political system is one of the most complicated in Europe, if not the world.
This is because the founding fathers of the "Bonn Republic" tried to avoid the mistakes and pitfalls that undermined the "Weimar Republic" and because of the federal system
with 16 states, which have traditions and roots going back centuries to the times when "Germany" was a collection of independent principalities, duchies, and kingdoms. Federalism was interrupted only
by the centralized Nazi unitary state from 1933 to 1945.
Because the parties are tightly structured, hierarchical organizations with card-carrying members, they are unlike political parties in most other democratic countries. There are, for example, no
primary elections. Candidates for public office are named by the parties at the local and state level, and years of loyal party work are generally preconditions for nomination. Chancellors and state
prime-ministers are not elected directly but by the party factions or caucuses having the largest number of seats in the Bundestag or state parliaments. Voting the party line is the rule; only rarely do party
floor leaders free deputies to vote according to their conscience.
Another important aspect is the way the parties are financed. All require their members to pay dues. But these cover only part of their operating expenses. Other sources are rents from properties,
investments, and donations which must be made public if they exceed DM 20,000 (about $11,500). In addition to these funds the parties receive public grants to finance election campaign costs. All parties that
poll at least half a percent of the total number of votes in a national or 1 percent in a state election get DM 1.30 (75 cents) per vote cast for them. The bill to taxpayers in the 1994 general election, when
47,743,597 Germans went to the polls, was DM 62 million ($35.4 million). Though a lot of money, it is a fraction of that spent in American elections.
One advantage to the German party system and the way it is financed is that candidates do not have to be rich to get elected. There is no way for individual candidates to throw a lot of money into
a campaign; it's up to their parties. And their opportunities to spend money are limited. Posters and billboard ads, leaflets, brochures, direct mail, stumping, party rallies, whistle-stopping, and knocking on
voters' doors are the main means of campaigning.
To be sure, a party that spends enough money on posters and direct mail campaigns, can score remarkable results, as the radical rightwing Deutsche Volksunion (DVU—German People's Union) proved in last April's state election in Saxony-Anhalt. This extremist party, founded, led, and virtually owned by Munich publisher Gerhard Frey, spent an estimated DM 3 million ($1.7 million) in that campaign, more than all the five major parties together, and won nearly 13 percent of the popular vote—enough to seat 14 representatives in the Landtag (state legislature). The party had no organization in the state, being run by remote control over the phone and fax from Frey's headquarters in Munich, and its candidates were virtually unknown except to insiders of radical right and neo-Nazi circles. But the DVU blanketed Saxony-Anhalt with posters bearing populistic and simplistic slogans such as "Jobs Only for Germans," "Foreign Criminals Out," or "No Foreign Kids in German Schools," and inundated potential voters between 18 and 30 with similar direct mail propaganda.
Television advertising is a secondary venue, but except for production costs of the commercials, it is virtually free. The two national public networks, ARD and ZDF, and the state-regional
"third programs" are required to give the parties time during their regular evening advertising slots and following news shows. The number of ads a party can place depends on how it scored in the last
election, so that the previous winner gets more air time four years later. Since the ads are always preceded by a somber announcement that they are partisan political statements, viewer attention tends to be
minimal, no matter how good the commercial actually is. Clicking off a politician is even more popular than switching off a detergent or over-the-counter drug.
On the other hand, talk shows, news programs, and interviews with candidates do have an enormous impact. All the major parties have professionals on their staffs and the services of ad and PR
agencies.
A key feature of Germany's parliamentary system is that it is based on mixed personal and proportional representation. Half the members of the Bundestag (and also of most state legislatures) are
elected directly from their constituencies, called Wahlkreise, the same way members of the U.S. House of Representatives or Britain's House of Commons are elected; the candidate who gets the largest
number of votes is the winner. The other half receive their mandates from party tickets, called Listen, or lists, which are apportioned on a state basis. Candidates who are not nominated by their local
party organizations to stand directly in a Wahlkreis seek good placement on the party ticket when it is chosen at a state convention; the higher up on the ticket, the better the chance of actually being elected.
When voters enter the polling booth, they have only two crosses to make: one for the Wahlkreis candidate, the second for the party ticket of their choice. But this so-called "second
vote" is the most important, because it represents the "popular vote" and determines the actual seating arrangement and power relationship. The composition of parliament reflects almost
identically the percentage of the total "second vote" a party receives.
If a party has won more directly elected constituency seats than its percentile proportion of "second votes" would justify, then it is allowed to keep these so-called Überhangmandate (surplus mandates) and the size of parliament is increased so that the apportionment of seats again reflects the share of the total "second vote" obtained by the parties.
According to law, the Bundestag should have 656 members. But because the CDU had 12 and the SPD won four Überhangmandate in the 1994 election, the incumbent parliament has 672 members—the largest
ever.
Kohl was elected to his fifth term as chancellor with the CDU/CSU-FDP coalition's majority of only five deputies and has been governing with that slim margin for the past four years.
The number of smaller parties and the proportional representation system make it virtually impossible for any party to win an absolute Bundestag majority that would enable it to elect a chancellor
and form a government without at least one of the other groups' support. It happened only once: in 1957 when Konrad Adenauer was at the height of his popularity and led the CDU/CSU to more than 50 percent and
270 of the then 497 seats. All other governments have been coalitions: such as between the CDU/CSU and FDP; or from 1969 until 1982 between the SPD and FDP; from 1966 to 1969 between CDU/CSU and SPD in the
so-called "grand coalition." Usually the leader of the smaller party serves as vice-chancellor, and cabinet posts are distributed after prolonged behind the scenes bargaining.
One of the most unusual and important features of Germany's system is the "five percent clause," which bars a party from representation in the Bundestag and state legislatures if it
fails to win five percent of the "second votes." It was an afterthought to the constitution, introduced in 1953 after 10 of 36 parties running in the initial 1949 election had made it into parliament.
The purpose was to avoid what had happened in the Weimar Republic. Splinter groups in parliament prevented the larger parties from obtaining coalition majorities that would enable them to govern.
Variations of the "five-percent clause" have since been adopted by Austria and some of the former Communist countries of Eastern Europe.
Votes won by parties that fail to get at least five percent are reapportioned to the larger parties according to their percentage share of the total.
The "five percent hurdle" does not apply to national minorities, such as the Danes in Schleswig-Holstein, who are represented in that state legislature by two deputies from the South
Schleswig Voters' Association (SSW), and it is waived when a party wins at least three directly elected constituencies. In that case it enters parliament with the Wahlkreis winners and a number of candidates in
accordance to the percentage of the "second votes" it obtained.
This ruling enabled the PDS to enter the Bundestag with 30 deputies four years ago. The successor to East Germany's former ruling party had won nearly 20 percent of the "second votes" in
the East German states, but only 4.4 percent nationwide. But it captured four Wahlkreise, all of them in East Berlin, directly.
The "five-percent hurdle" is one reason why this year's election is so difficult to predict. Two of the parties presently in parliament, the FDP and Greens, might not get back in; both
have been close to the edge in opinion polls since spring. But their support will probably be needed by the main contenders. Chancellor Kohl and the CDU/CSU depend on the FDP to get back in, and the SPD in all
likelihood would need a coalition with the Greens to form a government.
Although the PDS will probably win the necessary three Wahlkreise with which to qualify and return to parliament, it could also win five percent of the "second vote." Though it has
virtually no supporters in West Germany, it is a major force in the eastern states; as strong as the CDU or SPD in two of them. According to an early June survey by the Allensbach Opinion Research Institute,
only 1.6 percent of West Germans would have voted for the PDS if there had been an election that Sunday, but the party would have scored 24.1 percent in the five eastern states—enough for 5.7 percent of the
total "second votes."
The rightist DVU is the most unpredictable. By late spring it was uncertain whether Frey would even try to campaign nationally. But he is sure to get on the ballots with Listen and some Wahlkreis
candidates in states where he has previously done well, such as Hamburg, Schleswig-Holstein, and Saxony-Anhalt, and intends to mount a poster and mail campaign in Mecklenburg-Western Pomerania, where voters will
also elect a new Landtag on September 27. The DVU surprised all opinion pollsters in Saxony-Anhalt by not even showing up in the statistics until a couple of weeks before the April 26 election. What happened
there could happen again nationwide in September. Frey has enough money to plaster the country with posters and inundate it with direct mail.
The fate of the smaller parties, especially the FDP which has been the "dog-wagging tail" of German politics for more than 40 years by coalescing with either the CDU or the SPD, also
determines the prospects of the two major players. If neither can form a coalition with a junior partner to get a majority in the Bundestag, there are two unpalatable choices.
The party with the largest number of seats in parliament could form a minority government, tolerated by one of the minor groups. This happened in Saxony-Anhalt last spring when the SPD's former
coalition partner, the Greens, did not get back into the Landtag because of the "five-percent hurdle." The SPD obtained 47 seats in the legislature, 12 short of a majority; the CDU got 28, the PDS won
25, and the DVU, with which no one will do business, got 16. Reinhard Höppner, the incumbent SPD prime minister, formed a minority government that is tacitly supported in passing legislation by the PDS.
Theoretically that could happen in Bonn, but it is highly unlikely. Although the SPD reluctantly accepted what Höppner did and might cooperate with the PDS in state and local governments, it has flatly barred
collaboration with the former Communists on the national level.
The other alternative is a "grand coalition" of Christian and Social Democrats. Some observers advocate this as a means to break the gridlock, especially in enacting tax reform and
overdue socio-economic legislation. But the danger is that lack of an effective opposition in parliament opens the gates to rightist and leftwing extremist groups.
This is what happened in the late 1960s. West Germany's "youth rebellion," became the Ausserparliamentarische Opposition (APO—Extraparliamentary Opposition) of 1968, which indirectly triggered the terrorism of the Baader-Meinhof group and the Red Army Faction (RAF). The sudden rise of the radical rightist National Democratic Party (NPD) is also attributed to the melding of two seemingly opposing political forces in parliament. That party is a fringe force on the far right these days, eclipsed by the DVU and Die Republikaner (Reps—Republicans), but between 1966 and 1969 it won representation in nearly all state legislatures, and in the 1969 general election it came within a hair of entering the Bundestag—4.3 percent of the "second votes." By the 1972 election, three years after the end of the "grand coalition," when SPD and CDU/CSU were again seemingly irreconcilable political rivals, the NPD had disappeared from all the Landtage in which it once had seats, and it polled only half a percent of the total votes cast.
Though few people in Germany would like to risk a replay of those scenarios, the political barometer reading in late spring indicated that a "grand coalition" was a distinct possibility
after the election. The big question mark was who would be its senior partner and thus chancellor. The mandate falls upon the party with the largest number of seats in the Bundestag. If this is the SPD, then it
would be Gerhard Schröder, and Schröder, no friend of the Greens, is believed to favor it as a way to make the changes in fiscal, social, and labor legislation that he says Germany needs to break free of its
flagging economy and double-digit unemployment rate. Helmut Kohl would certainly resign in favor of his designated "crown prince" Wolfgang Schäuble, the present CDU/CSU majority leader, as
vice-chancellor. But whether Schäuble would also assume the foreign ministry is doubtful because he is confined to a wheelchair.
If the CDU/CSU has the most seats, then Schäuble would probably become chancellor. Not only has Kohl always ruled out serving as chancellor of a grand coalition, because there is too much bad
blood between him and the SPD, but there is already a strong movement in the CDU/CSU for him to make way for Schäuble as early as possible. Schröder, who has said he will go to Bonn only as chancellor,
"nothing less," would remain what he is today—prime minister of Lower Saxony. Some other leading Social Democrat, in all likelihood Saarland Prime Minister Oskar Lafontaine, the party's chairman, or
Rudolf Scharping, the SPD floor leader and 1990 candidate for chancellor, would become vice chancellor and foreign minister.
For all the importance of Bundestag elections, what happens in the Bundesrat, the other house of parliament, is equally vital to the political process in Germany.
The Bundesrat, or Federal Council, represents the 16 states, and most bills enacted by the Bundestag cannot become law without its approval. In contrast to the U.S. Senate, however, the
states are not equally represented but according to population, and the members of the Bundesrat are not elected representatives of the people but are members of the state governments and represent the state
legislatures. Depending on population, the states have three or more votes in the Bundesrat.
Though the Bundesrat has its own building, it also has a bench in the chamber of the Bundestag, and its members are entitled to speak and participate actively in Bundestag debates. The power of
the Bundesrat is so great that its president, who rotates every six months in alphabetical order of the states, ranks second in protocol, behind the federal president.
The delegates from each state are always
the prime minister and the leading cabinet members; they must vote as a bloc and party discipline is as strictly enforced in the states as in the federal government. Because the CDU/CSU has majority governments
in only two states, all others being governed by the SPD alone or by coalitions in which the SPD and Greens have a decisive say, the Social Democrats have a two-thirds majority of the 69 seats in the Bundesrat.
This is one of the main reasons why there has been gridlock in Bonn.
No matter what else happens on September 27, the composition of the Bundesrat will not change. Only two state elections will be held before fall 1999: in Bavaria, on September 13, where the CSU is
sure to remain in power but with less than a 53-percent majority, and Mecklenburg-Western Pomerania, on September 27, where the incumbent CDU-SPD "grand coalition" may be replaced by a
PDS-"tolerated" SPD minority government.
Given those facts, one prediction about the 1998 election seems safe. If, despite running 10 percentage points behind the SPD and Greens in most spring and early summer opinion surveys, the
CDU/CSU and FDP manage to eke out a majority of the Bundestag seats and Helmut Kohl's coalition government wins another term, things will continue much as they have. The impasse between the two major parties can
be broken only by an SPD victory or by a "grand coalition" of the two protagonists.
Complicated as it all is, the system has worked since 1949 and made the "Bonn Republic" a more stable democracy than anyone dared hope 50 years ago.
THE PARTIES
Though most of them have roots in the Weimar Republic, and some even in the 19th century, Germany's political parties have undergone significant changes since 1945. In West Germany they began as
ideological program parties and became people's parties with left and right wings and in which personalities play more important roles than platforms. In East Germany the two main pre-Third Reich parties, the
Communists and Social Democrats, were joined as the ruling Socialist Unity Party (SED); and parties, established after World War II, some having the same names as those in West Germany, were turned into puppet
organizations that were mere fig leaves of democracy. These were absorbed by their Western namesakes after reunification.
The Christian Democratic Union (CDU): Founded in the Western and Soviet occupation zones in 1945 as a successor to the Weimar and Kaiser era Catholic Center Party with the aim of joining both of Germany's major Christian denominations—Roman Catholics and Lutheran Protestants—into a common political force based on Christian ethics. Since 1949 it has led 10 governments headed by four chancellors—Konrad Adenauer, Ludwig Erhard, Kurt Georg Kiesinger, and Helmut Kohl. Though conservative, it has a strong left wing made up of the Christian Democratic Workers movement (CDA). It has state organizations everywhere except in Bavaria, and 650,000 dues-paying, card-carrying members with an average age of 54. Women account for 25 percent of the membership. About 29 percent of the members are white-collar employees, 21 percent are self-employed, 11.5 percent are civil servants, 10 percent are housekeepers, 6.5 percent are pensioners.
Christian Social Union (CSU): Founded in 1945 in Bavaria as a successor to and outgrowth of several Weimar and Royal era conservative parties with close ties to the Roman Catholic Church. It is considered an independent party but operates only in Bavaria, where it has been the majority party since the 1950s. Called the "Bavarian wing" or "sister" of the CDU, the two have a joint caucus in the Bundestag. The CSU has 180,000 dues-paying members, 16.7 percent of whom are women, 80 percent Catholic, 17 percent Protestant. About 31.5 percent of the members are white-collar employees; 19.5 percent self-employed; 18 percent blue-collar workers; 16 percent civil servants; 12 percent farmers.
Free Democratic Party (FDP): Founded in 1946 as a successor to the Left Liberal and National Liberal parties of the Kaiserreich, the German Democratic and German People's parties of the Weimar era. Its roots go back to the 1848 Revolution. Anti-clerical and non-denominational, it is Germany's counterpart to Britain's Liberal Party. Since 1949 it has been a junior partner of either the CDU/CSU or SPD in all governments except the 1966–1969 "grand coalition." The highest score it ever obtained was 12.8 percent of the "second votes" in 1961; in 1969 it won only 5.8 percent. The FDP has 75,000 dues-paying members, 25 percent of whom are women. The overwhelming majority are managerial executives, self-employed persons, professionals, and civil-servants.
Social Democratic Party (SPD): Founded in 1863 by Ferdinand Lasalle as the Allgemeiner Deutscher Arbeiterverein (General German Workingmen's Association), it was outlawed by the Nazi regime in 1933 and recreated in all occupation zones in 1945, but fused with the Communists in the Soviet Zone in 1946. The left-liberal and labor-oriented party was junior partner in the 1966-1969 "grand coalition" and headed four governments, from 1969 to 1982 with two chancellors: Willy Brandt and Helmut Schmidt. It has 790,000 dues-paying members, 28.5 percent of whom are women. White collar employees account for 28 percent, blue-collar workers for 23 percent, civil servants for 11 percent, and homemakers for 11 percent of the membership.
Bündnis 90/Die Grünen (Alliance 90/The Greens): The Greens Party grew out of the reform-minded, environmentalist youth movements and citizens' action groups of the 1970s, and first entered the Bundestag with 5.6 percent of the "second votes" in the March 1983 election. Though it has jettisoned some of its extreme positions, such as rotation of elected deputies in mid-term to prevent "political professionalism," it is still divided into "fundamentalist" (Fundi) and "realistic-pragmatic" (Realo) wings. Alliance 90 grew out of the East German peace and civil rights movement and fused with the Western Greens in 1990. The party has 48,000 dues-paying members, 37.5 percent of whom are women.
Party of Democratic Socialism (PDS): The successor to the former ruling Socialist Unity Party (SED) of East Germany was organized in 1990. It is comparable in some ways to the new post-Communist parties in other East European countries, such as Poland and Hungary, but uniquely different in that it has emerged as a powerful regional force, representing local interests, in the five "new" eastern states. Though a fringe group in the West, it is the second or third largest party in all eastern state legislatures, and in some boroughs of Berlin it has a majority. The PDS has 105,000 dues-paying members, 47 percent of whom are women.
THE MAJOR PLAYERS
Helmut Kohl, 68, began his political career as a member of the CDU's youth organization in his native Rhineland-Palatinate as a teenager and entered the state
legislature at age 29. He became the party's floor leader in 1966 and state prime minister in 1969, a position he retained until 1976 when he was elected to the Bundestag and became leader of the CDU/CSU
faction, then in opposition. He was named national chairman of the CDU in 1973 and has never been seriously challenged in that position since then. In October 1982, when the FDP broke its coalition with the SPD,
Kohl became chancellor through a "constructive vote of no confidence" to succeed Helmut Schmidt. He has been in office nearly 16 years, longer than anyone else, and is running for a sixth term. He has
forged the CDU/CSU into an instrument of his personal power. Though disastrous on TV, he is a formidable and highly effective campaigner at rallies, on public squares, and when facing large crowds.
Wolfgang Schäuble, 58, Kohl's most likely successor, joined the CDU's youth organization at age 19 in his native Freiburg and worked his way up in local and state
politics until entering the Bundestag, as a directly elected Wahlkreis candidate in 1972. He served in various caucus leadership positions, was named head of Kohl's chancellery as minister without portfolio in
1984, was minister of the interior from 1989 to 1991, and has been the CDU/CSU majority leader in the Bundestag since then. An assassination attempt during the 1990 campaign left him paralyzed from the waist
down. Schäuble will play a key role in German politics well into the 21st century, despite his physical disability, and he is quick to point out that being confined to a wheelchair did not hinder President
Franklin D. Roosevelt.
Gerhard Schröder, 54, a native of Lower Saxony, got his high-school diploma in evening classes, working meanwhile as a salesman, then studied law, and was in private
practice as a lawyer in Hanover from 1978 until 1987. He joined the SPD in 1963 and was national chairman of its youth organization, the Jusos, from 1978 to 1980, gaining a reputation as a leftwing
fundamentalist. He served two terms in the Bundestag from 1980 to 1987, but then opted for state politics in Lower Saxony, where he became head of the SPD faction in the Landtag and led the party to victory in
the 1990 election. He has been the state prime minister since then. Schröder, meanwhile a spokesman for the SPD's pragmatic right wing, won the nomination as candidate for chancellor in a power struggle with
Oskar Lafontaine, the party chairman, last spring. A charismatic politician, he has personalized and Americanized the campaign. If the SPD emerges as the strongest party, he will be Germany's next chancellor.
Joseph "Joschka" Fischer, 50, defacto chairman of the Greens and their floor leader in the Bundestag, has had the most remarkable career of any politician
in Germany. Born the son of a master butcher in Baden-Württemberg, he is a high-school drop-out, never learned a trade, but is totally self-educated. He was in the forefront of the 1968 "youth
rebellion" in Frankfurt-am-Main. He was one of the founders of the Greens party and entered the Bundestag in 1983, shocking the political establishment not only with his sloppy jeans and tennis shoes but
with sharp wit and polemical debating style. He soon left Bonn for state politics in Hesse, led the Greens into the Hessian Landtag and became minister of environmental affairs in an SPD-led coalition
government. As spokesman for the pragmatic "Realo" wing of the Greens, Fischer returned to the Bundestag in the 1994 election and has been its caucus leader since. Meanwhile given to wearing
three-piece suits and acting very statesmanlike, his aim for the September 27 election is an SPD-Greens coalition, in which he would undoubtedly be the vice-chancellor and Germany's next foreign minister.
POLITICAL ESSAY
The German Election Campaign Rates as Longest,
Dirtiest in 50 Years
By John Dornberg
One thing is sure to happen Sunday, September 27th, when nearly 50 million Germans go to the polls to elect a new Bundestag, the lower house of parliament. Regardless of who wins or loses,
there will be a collective sigh of relief that what was surely the longest, ugliest, and most polarized campaign in 50 years is over.
I have a basis for comparison, having covered nine of them in my career as a foreign correspondent, a task that included riding whistle-stop campaign trains with Konrad Adenauer, Willy Brandt,
Helmut Schmidt, and Helmut Kohl.
Nonetheless, despite the length, boredom and mud-slinging of the campaign, this election is an especially significant one.
It marks an attempt by Chancellor Helmut Kohl (of the Christian Democratic Union, or CDU) to win an unprecedented sixth term. First-time 18-year-old voters in September know no other leader. He
has been in power longer than the heads of all other democratic countries. If he wins, there is no telling when he will retire to make room for his designated "crown prince," Wolfgang Schäuble, 58, the
CDU's Bundestag majority leader, but most observers count on him until at least the year 2000.
Not only will the election set the switches for where Germany is headed in the 21st century, but it coincides with the end of the "Bonn Republic"; by the year 2000, parliament, the
chancellery, and half the government ministries will have moved to Berlin.
Moreover, the campaign is the most "Americanized" since 1949 in the sense that the personalities of the leading candidates—Kohl and Social Democratic (SPD) challenger Gerhard Schröder,
54, the telegenic prime minister of Lower Saxony—have become more important than the issues. If you strip away the campaign oratory there have been no issues, other than retaining or gaining power. Besides a lot
of American-style "let's get the country moving again" rhetoric, Schröder and the SPD promise to do things differently, though not necessarily better; Kohl and the CDU/CSU paint a scenario of Germany's
imminent demise in case of an SPD-Greens victory.
Since it has also been the campaign with the most unpredictable outcome, thanks to pollsters using different methods and the up-and-down ratings of the dog-wagging minor parties, it would be
journalistically suicidal to call the shots, despite the fact that Kohl's CDU/CSU-FDP (FDP=Free German Democrats) coalition has lagged 10 percent behind the combined SPD and Greens since the beginning of the
year.
Besides, any forecast is especially risky with Kohl in the ring. He is the embodiment of Mark Twain's line that "reports of my death were an exaggeration." Every time in the past that he
has been declared politically dead, and there have been many occasions, he has managed to stage a rebirth. A formidable campaigner any time, he is at his best with his back to the wall.
In the past you could usually count on two to three months of high-energy electioneering, but this time it's been going on since late winter with a succession of party conventions and seemingly
endless poster advertising. Last March the city of Munich enacted an ordnance that extended the pre-election period for putting up posters from the traditional three to six months.
To be sure, mud-slinging, character assassination, and card-stacking are nothing new in German politics. I recall how in 1961 Konrad Adenauer tried to discredit his challenger Willy Brandt, then
mayor of West Berlin, by referring to his illegitimate birth and calling him a traitor for having fled the Nazis and returned to Germany after World War II in Norwegian uniform. And in the 1965 campaign Helmut
Schmidt, known back then as "Schmidt-the-Lip," called Chancellor Ludwig Erhard a "jello pudding" and said caustically: "Try pinning down jello."
But the offensive mounted against Schröder by Kohl's seemingly desperate handlers is unprecedented, especially in Germany where politicians' private lives are supposed to be off limits. At the May
CDU party convention two Barbie-doll-like delegates strutted around with identical T-shirts reading: "Schröder is the wrong man—three wives can't all be wrong." Granted, he has made himself an easy
target. Last year he dumped wife No. 2, whom he had long billed as his political alter ego and a kind of "two-for-the-price-of-one" partner, and has now made No. 3, a 34-year-old journalist, into a
"one dollar a year" campaign manager who is omnipresent on the hustings.
The CDU seems out to vilify Schröder as a man without political substance or personal character and to paint the SPD as a party without principles, willing to deal even with "Stalinists"
(East Germany's Party of Democratic Socialism—PDS). Behind the effort is the CDU's secretary general Peter Hintze, a former Protestant pastor, who said recently: "In terms of candidates, Schröder is the
most immoral that the SPD has ever presented." Hintze also authored a controversial "red scare" campaign intended to portray Schröder as a "closet communist" and the SPD as being
"in bed with the reds." The CDU's most controversial campaign poster shows the clasped-hands logo of the SED (Socialist Unity Party), adopted in 1946 when the Communist and Social Democratic parties in
the Soviet occupation zone were merged. The implication is that SPD and PDS are in cahoots. Whether the scare campaign impresses anyone other than the party faithful and knee-jerk anti-Communists in West Germany
is doubtful. In the eastern states, where opinion surveys show the CDU running not only 16 percent behind the SPD but even one percent behind the PDS, local CDU organizations have rejected the scare materials
and posters on grounds that they are counterproductive and potentially embarrassing, because the CDU itself collaborates with the PDS on more than 100 town and county councils in eastern Germany.
To the extent that they ever matter much in elections, political principles have been jettisoned entirely. Kohl, who has spent 16 years fighting for European economic and political union (EU),
reversed himself in June by starting to play the nationalist and Euroskeptic card.
On the one hand, it was a ploy to find favor with that majority of Germans who oppose the euro currency, opening the EU's doors to Czech, Polish, and Hungarian membership, and to strengthen the
central authority of the EU Commission in Brussels. At the same time, it was also part of a deal he cut with the ultra-conservative Christian Social Union (CSU), the CDU's Bavarian "sister" party, and
Bavarian Prime Minister Edmund Stoiber. In getting Stoiber and the CSU to drop vocal opposition to the euro and eastward expansion and to stop carping about the $13 billion that Bonn contributes to the EU budget
each year, Kohl was willing to take a stronger vocal stand in defense of regional and national interests against the centralized, super-state bureaucracy in Brussels.
The CSU meanwhile, fearful of outright defeat at the polls and/or of becoming irrelevant in a "grand coalition" government, has appealed to xenophobic fears and the rightwing fringe with
a militantly anti-foreigner and law-and-order campaign. At its pep-rally convention in May, Finance Minister Theo Waigel, the CSU chairman, declared that Germany "must not become a nation of
immigrants," called for a halt to immigration of all kinds, and demanded the expulsion of foreigners, along with their families, found guilty of crimes. The CSU is so fearful of a "grand
coalition" that in June some of its leaders leaked smoke-filled-room scenarios by which the CSU would split ranks from the CDU and "tolerate" an SPD minority government after the election.
Even more perplexing have been the disarray among and the own-goals scored by the two main small parties—the Greens and the Free Democrats.
The best at self-mutilation have been the Greens, much to the frustration and dismay of their Bundestag floor leader and de facto chairman, Joseph "Joschka" Fischer, 50, who dreams of an
SPD-Greens coalition government in which he would become vice-chancellor and foreign minister.
At the platform convention in March, the Greens' fundamentalist (Fundi) wing, which tries whenever possible to trip up Fischer, won a majority for an energy-ecology tax plank that would raise the
price of gas to DM 5 per liter (about $11 per gallon) within 10 years. This in a country where motorization is next to godliness! Though the plank disappeared again from a new "short-term" platform
issued in June, the Greens ratings plummeted by 3 to 4 percent within a month. Fischer toured the country, desperately trying to undo the damage. But in early July Fundi Greens undid him again by calling for a
national speed limit—100 kilometers (62 miles) per hour on autobahns, 80 kilometers (50 miles) on other roads, and 30 kilometers (19 miles) within city limits. By then there was the danger that the Greens might
fall short of the minimum 5 percent they need to enter parliament.
And the FDP, once again faced with "5 percent sudden death" and represented in only four of 16 state legislatures, seems to have run amok, showing total confusion as it has deliberated
whether to stick with Helmut Kohl and possibly go under with the ship, or try to strike an identity of its own.
Thus last May, Jürgen Möllemann, the party's leader in Northrhine-Westphalia, called outright for a switch of partners, saying the FDP should again go into coalition with the SPD, as from 1969 to
1982. Though the proposal was rejected by Wolfgang Gerhardt, the party chairman, and the rest of the leadership, it cast doubts on the FDP's fidelity and fanned discord among its right and left wings. A few days
later, Guido Westerwelle, the secretary general, fanned more doubt by suggesting that Helmut Kohl should pass power Wolfgang Schäuble immediately after the election, not in two years or so, assuming of course
that the coalition would win, on which Westerwelle waxed confident. When there was an outcry from the CDU/CSU and his own party he backtracked quickly, saying it was a personal not official idea. During the
FDP's platform convention at the end of June, delegates were even more ambivalent: continue the coalition with the CDU/CSU under Kohl, yes, but more FDP identity and policies, double-yes. Voters were left to
decipher the message.
Deciphering the SPD's has also not been easy, due mainly to Gerhard Schröder's undisguised quest for power. His campaigning has consisted largely of platitudes, promises of change, and a little of
everything for everybody. Although he selected a shadow cabinet, which includes Jost Stollman, a non-partisan millionaire computer manufacturer, as minister of economics, he continued to run largely a one-man
show, heavily dependent on his toothy smile and ability to win votes. What he stands for was still unclear, four months after his nomination by acclamation after winning reelection as prime minister of Lower
Saxony. But if voters could elect a chancellor directly, a July poll showed, Schröder would get 62 percent to Kohl's 25.
Given all these facts, small wonder that only 10 months before the election, more than 25 percent of eligible Germans remained uncertain how they would vote, and about that many were not even sure
whether they would vote, making it all the harder for the pundits and the pollsters to predict the outcome. The only safe bet: everybody will be happy when it's over. Nine months of electioneering is just too
much. Even for veteran political journalists.
Contributing editor John Dornberg is a Munich-based writer, who has been covering Germany, Eastern Europe, and the Soviet Union for more than 30 years.
German Life's North American Oktoberfest Picks
During the months of September and October more than 3,000 towns and communities worldwide celebrate a version of Oktoberfest—what began as the 1810 wedding ceremony of Crown Prince Ludwig (later
King Ludwig I) of Bavaria to Princess Therese von Sachsen-Hildburghausen and the re-enactment of a traditional Bavarian horse race. Over time the annually held festivities grew to include parades, feasting, and
eventually carnival activities. This year's 165th Oktoberfest in Munich—from September 19 to October 4—can expect more than six million visitors, who will drink more than 1.3 million gallons of beer and gobble
hundreds of thousands of Bratwurst. Offshoots of the original Munich event occur in places as diverse as Australia, Italy, South Africa, Israel, or New Zealand. In the United States alone official statistics
list more than 1,000 locations for Oktoberfests, which is undoubtedly an understatement.
Following World War II such festivities sprang up throughout North America, part of what one German-American expert has termed a "post-war Oktoberfest phenomenon." Criticized on the one
hand for promoting a mostly Bavarian—and kitschy—image, German-American societies nevertheless contributed to a positive image for Germany following the war by popularizing German Oktoberfests. In these pages German
Life pays tribute to some of the most notable celebrations in Canada and the United States. While numerous cities hold different German festivals at other times of the year, the picks here reflect a specific Oktoberfest connection and have been chosen to show a geographical and historical diversity.
Kitchener-Waterloo, Ontario: 30th Annual Fest
Held: October 9-17 Est. attendance: 700,000
The American Bus Association has recognized this festival with its 1998 "Top Event in Canada" award. Celebrated in more than 20 halls in a two-square-block area of downtown, the festival
also features a costumed archery contest. Nearly 50 family and cultural events from craft shows and quilting displays to races and farm tours are held in conjunction with the festival. Proceeds go to charities.
For more information, contact Tel.: (888) 294-4267.
Web: www.oktoberfest.ca
German-American Interests:
- Settled in 1805 by Pennsylvania Mennonites, the area was called Berlin and Waterloo in the 1850s. In 1900 it became the nucleus of a large German settlement of skilled craftsmen. Berlin was
changed to Kitchener during World War I, after Lord Horatio H. Kitchener. For regional tourist information, contact (800) 265–6959.
- For information about the more than 50 German-Canadian Clubs located throughout the country, contact the German-Canadian Congress (DKK), 455 Conestogo Road, Waterloo, Ontario N2L 4C9; Tel.:
(519) 746–9006.
Torrance, California: 30th Annual Fest
Held: September 12-November 1 Est. attendance: 80-90,000
Held at Alpine Village Park, this Oktoberfest is the largest in southern California. Besides German oom-pah bands, the boisterous entertainment includes contests like yodeling, pretzel-eating,
woodsawing, and beer-stein holding. Opening Day features a fundraiser benefiting 14 charities. Known as The Little City from the Alps, the village is a privately run organization and features a variety of ethnic
festivals throughout the summer.
For more information, contact Tel.: (310) 327–4384.
Web: www.alpinevillage.net
German-American Interests:
- California's state seal was designed by Alfred Kuhner, who was born on October 9, 1819, in Lindau, Germany. Moreover, Eschscholzia californica (the golden poppy) has been California's state flower since 1903 and was named after Dr. J. F. Eschscholtz, a naturalist born in 1793 in Germany.
- Founded in 1905, the area's Deutsch-Amerikanischer Verband (German-American Society) seeks to bring together those with German heritage and to maintain the language, culture, and traditions. The society is an umbrella for approximately 22 organizations and can be reached at P.O. Box 6081, Torrance, CA 90504.
Cincinnati, Ohio: 22nd Annual Fest
Held: September 19-20 Est. attendance: 500,000
Oktoberfest-Zinzinnati party-goers made the Guinness Book of World Records in 1994 for the largest chicken dance in the world (48,000 participants). Officials anticipate further record-breaking crowds for this year—and not just for the chicken dance. Known as the largest Oktoberfest in the United States, the event is held in a city replete with German influences and customs. Seven stages feature live entertainment, and 90 booths will be serving up authentic German food, wine, beer, and more. Oktoberfest- Zinzinnati is produced by the Downtown Council in cooperation with the City of Cincinnati and numerous German-American organizations.
For more information, contact Tel.: (513) 579-3191.
Web: www.oktoberfest-zinzinnati.com
German-American Interests:
- Over-the Rhine, the heart of the city's 19th-century German-American community has been revitalized and now features ethnic food, specialty shops, art galleries, and entertainment. For travel
information, contact the Greater Cincinnati Convention and Visitors' Bureau, Tel.: (513) 621–2142.
- Old St. Mary's Catholic Church, the first German Catholic church in Cincinnati, still has a weekly Mass held in German.
Mt. Angel, Oregon: 33rd Annual Fest
Held: October 15-18 Est. attendance: 350,000
Billed as the "oldest and largest folk festival in the Pacific Northwest," the Mt. Angel event commences with a traditional German Webetanz, or May pole dance, performed by local
school children. Entertainment continues on four music stages and at the 60 food booths found in the Weingarten, Biergarten, and Microgarten. Revelers will also be intrigued by the 200-vehicle "Cruz-n car
show" and the ambitious sports program. The event is sponsored by the nonprofit Oktoberfest, Inc. Proceeds are distributed to worthy organizations in Mt. Angel and surrounding communities.
For more information, contact Tel.: (503) 845-9440.
Web: www.oktoberfest.org
German-American Interests:
- Just north of town, Zollner Creek is named after the German-Catholic Robert Zollner, the first settler to arrive. The town was officially founded in 1868. For travel information, contact
Tel.:(503)845-9440.
- Reflecting the town's Swiss roots, Mt. Angel is the anglicized name of a community of Benedictine monks from Engelberg. One hundred years ago, the Swiss community gained an American home with
the establishment of the Mt. Angel Abbey and the Benedictine Sisters' Queen of Angels Monastery. The Sisters offer daily self-guided tours of the monastery grounds.
Tulsa, Oklahoma: 20th Annual Fest
Held: October 22–25 Est. attendance: 200,000
Known as the "Best German Fest in the West," Tulsa's popular Oktoberfest takes place along the Arkansas River at the River West Festival Park. Either Das Kaffee Haus or Das Sports Cafe
should quench the most insatiable thirst of any sports fan watching the featured Bier Barrel Racing. Carnival rides afford a superb view of downtown Tulsa, and a Polka Mass and a Volksmarsch highlight the festivities. According to Bon Appetit magazine, the event ranks as one of the top German food festivals in the world. This nonprofit event is sponsored by the German-American Society of Tulsa and a group of local businesses.
For more information, contact Tel.: (918) 596-2005.
Web: www.TulsaOktoberfest.org
German-American Interests:
- In the western part of Oklahoma, 1990 U.S. census data show that 25 to 50 percent of the population claims German heritage. In the Tulsa area, 22.79 percent claim German heritage.
- Founded by Josef Hardt and dedicated to keeping the heritage of the city's largest ethnic group alive, the German-American Society of Tulsa has existed for 19 years. Those wishing to find out
more information may contact the society at 1429 Terrace Drive, Tulsa, OK 74104; Tel.: (918) 744–6997.
La Crosse, Wisconsin: 38th Annual Fest
Held: October 2-8 Est. attendance: 175,000
This is one of the few authentic Old World folk festivals held annually in the United States, which helped La Crosse gain an American City Award in 1961—the first year Oktoberfest was held there.
Still going strong, festivities traditionally begin with three separate coronation events: Miss La Crosse/Oktoberfest, Mrs. Oktoberfest, and Festmaster. Parades highlight the events, including a three-hour Maple
Leaf Parade, Kids Day Parade, and the Torchlight Parade on the last evening of the festival. The community-oriented event is sponsored by the independent La Crosse Festivals, Inc. Donations are made to hundreds
of nonprofit organizations each year.
For more information, contact Tel.: (608) 784–3378.
German-American Interests:
- The first German residents of La Crosse set up business in 1846. John Levy and his wife Frederica ran a trading post and hotel. When they arrived there were five homes in the village, one
warehouse and a long shed used as a bowling alley. By 1885, 15 percent of the town's 23,549 residents had been born in Germany, statistics that did not include the second-generation American-born children of
earlier German immigrants.
- Eight breweries in La Crosse were German-owned or operated in the late 19th century. The Temperance movement was never embraced in the area. In 1896 one bar existed for every 120 adults. For
insight into what can be discovered in La Crosse and its surroundings today, contact the Visitors' Bureau at Tel.: (800) 658–9424.
Columbus, Ohio: 13th Annual Fest
Held: September 11–13 Est. attendance: 75,000
Featuring beer, brats, and oom-pah bands, the German Village Oktoberfest helps Columbus become "The Polka Capital of America" for one weekend each year. A variety of other music and
entertainment takes place on the festival's four stages. And for children there's the Kinderplatz area and other special events. With the help of numerous sponsors, this spirited event is organized by the German Village Society as its major annual fundraiser. The Society is a nonprofit organization dedicated to the preservation of the German Village.
For more information, contact Tel.: (614) 224–4300.
German-American Interests:
- The German Village is the largest privately funded historic neighborhood in the United States—233 acres of "living" history and a reputed architectural style showcasing carved
limestone lintels, clay chimney pots, and slate roofs.
- The 23-acre Schiller Park has been a part of the German Village for more than 140 years and features Huntington Gardens, a lake, and an amphitheater. Among its activities, the Park hosts Sängerfeste (traditional German song festivals). For information about membership in the German Village Society, contact the society at 588 South Third Street, Columbus, OH 43215; Tel.: (614) 221–8888.
Fredericksburg, Texas: 18th Annual Fest
Held: October 2-4 Est. attendance: 20,000
You might be familiar with Tex-Mex combinations, but get yourself ready for German-Texan food and celebrations. Expect a schmorgasbord of delights—from fajitas to Wurst, barbecue to Sauerkraut—as
delectable evidence of the successful cultural confluence. More than 25 bands will offer music continuously, a special new exhibit area will showcase local artisans, and children's entertainment will not prevent
adult enjoyment of German beer. Sponsored by the nonprofit Pedernales Creative Arts Alliance, all proceeds are dedicated to scholarships and the promotion of the arts for the local area.
For more information, contact Tel.: (830) 997-4810.
Web: www.fredericksburg-texas.com
German-American Interests:
- Founded in 1846 by German settlers, Fredericksburg was named after the Prince of Prussia. He was the highest ranking member of the Society for the Protection of German Immigrants in Texas,
which sponsored the resettlement venture.
- The unusual, octagonal Vereinskirche, originally built in 1847, was reconstructed in the 1930s. Lovingly dubbed the Kaffeemühle (coffee grinder), the building houses archives of the town's early settlers and other genealogical materials. For information about further historical sites, contact the Convention and Visitor's Bureau at Tel.: (830) 997–9523.
Frankenmuth, Michigan: 4th Annual Fest
Held: September 17-20 Est. attendance: 4,000
The first Oktoberfest was celebrated in Frankenmuth in 1990 to commemorate the reunification of East and West Germany. In 1995 Christian Ude, Lord Mayor of the city of Munich, Germany, and Hermann
Memmel, member of the German parliament, signed a Certificate of Ennoblement, which pronounced Frankenmuth's Oktoberfest as the first such celebration outside of Munich to operate officially under the auspices
of the City of Munich. This honor enhances Frankenmuth's already established reputation as Michigan's Little Bavaria.
For more information, contact Tel.: (800) 386-8696.
Web: www.frankenmuth.org
German-American Interests:
- Frankenmuth's humble origins stem from the arrival of 15 German Lutheran settlers in 1845, who had set out to spread the gospel to the Saginaw Valley's Chippewa Indians. The Indians
eventually moved farther west, but the colony remained intact and went on to welcome hundreds more German immigrants.
- The city's Bavarian heritage is kept alive with the help of the brewery and two landmark restaurants Zehnder's and the Frankenmuth Bavarian Inn. In addition, Christmas is celebrated
year-round and in 70 different languages at Bronner's CHRISTmas Wonderland. Further information can be obtained via Email by contacting chamber@frankenmuth.org
* HONORABLE MENTIONS *
Huntington Beach, California: September 18-November 1
For more information, contact Tel.: (714) 895-8020.
Helen, Georgia: September 17 - November 7
For information, contact Tel.: (800) 858–8027.
Michigan City, Indiana: September 4-7
For information, contact Tel.: (219) 874-8927.
Amana, Iowa: October 2-4
For information, contact Tel.: (800) 245-5465.
Covington, Kentucky: September 11-13
For information, contact Tel.: (606) 491–0458.
Baltimore, Maryland: October 10-11
For information, contact Tel.: (410) 522-4144.
New Ulm, Minnesota: October 2-4
For information, contact Tel.: (507) 646-3233.
Newport, Rhode Island: October 9-12
For information, contact Tel.: (401) 486-1600.
Leavenworth, Washington: (Autumn Leaf Festival)
September 26–27; October 2–4
For information, contact Tel.: (509) 548–5807.
Milwaukee, Wisconsin: September 12–27
For information, contact Tel.: (414) 462-9147.
EDITORIAL—October/November 1998
Ah, Politics
Knowing the significance of Germany's September 27 national election (and that two full features of this German Life issue are devoted to it), elections still remain the last thing I want to write
about here. Like many Americans—or Germans—I am weary of politics, at home and abroad. The resolution of important issues seems blocked by partisan bickering, and scandals obscure real news. Although it is easy
to be lured into indifference, though, now is not the time for us to let voter apathy prevail.
This fall Americans face congressional, senatorial, and gubernatorial elections. Given how each of these will shape not just respective state governments but also the federal government, Americans
would do well to take Germans as their example on voter turnout.
By the end of the summer German polls showed that 69 percent of the population wants a change in government, although many feel that the upcoming national election offers little real variety in
candidates and party platforms. Almost in the face of the proclaimed disillusionment, 83 percent of the German population intends to participate in the September 27 national election. And more than 50 percent of
the voters there had made a very firm decision about which party they would choose.
In comparison, for the "off-year" election in November 1994, turnout by the voting-age population in the United States was 36 percent; turnout for the 1996 presidential election was only
46 percent. American politicians and their campaign managers would surely salivate over voter statistics like those in Germany.
The country has come about its solid democratic standing the hard way, as this issue's article on the turmoil surrounding 1923 forcefully illustrates. On the tails of the financial and political
disaster created by World War I and the failed Weimar Republic, Adolf Hitler and the Party of National Socialists eventually rose to power.
Today, however, German voters make clear that they would not allow a radical rightwing party to gain footing in the national government. For 88 percent of those polled stated firmly that under no
circumstances would they vote for such a party in this election.
We should all remember that our right to vote is a democratic privilege, if not a civic duty. For those of you turned off by the thought of the ballot box, I have a suggestion: Defy your reticence
and vote in this fall's elections (including your local primaries), then reward yourself by finding the nearest Oktoberfest and kick up your heels.
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