'Stay Alive,' about daily life in Nazi Berlin, shows how easy it is to just go along
Eighty years have passed since Adolf Hitler took his own life in his bunker, yet the complexities of the Nazi era continue to captivate us. Despite my extensive reading and viewing experiences concerning this historical period, I still find it remarkable when a fresh perspective on Nazi Germany is presented.
In Stay Alive: Berlin, 1939-1945, Ian Buruma offers such a perspective by examining life in a country stripped of control. Drawing inspiration from the experiences of his Dutch father, Leo, who was compelled to undertake factory work in Berlin, Buruma utilizes diaries, memoirs, and personal interviews—acknowledging that most witnesses have since passed—to delve into the emotional landscape of Berliners during World War II. His narrative chronicles the journey from the early triumphant days of German expansion into Poland, where daily life seemed almost routine (with the notable exception of the Jewish population), through to the war’s conclusion as the city faced devastation from relentless bombings and the subsequent arrival of Soviet soldiers, who wreaked havoc on the capital.
Buruma candidly addresses the challenge presented by the limited documentation available from ordinary Germans, who primarily sought to remain inconspicuous and survive. Consequently, the narrative shifts focus to a range of compelling individuals, providing depth to our conventional understanding of Nazi Germany.
Among those featured is Coco Schumann, a young Jewish guitarist who bravely plays jazz music—deemed "degenerate" by the Nazis—at great personal risk. We also meet 15-year-old Lilo, who initially finds beauty in Nazi ideals but later comes to respect the bravery of those who attempted to assassinate Hitler. Helmuth von Moltke, a dissident intelligence officer, emerges as a conservative figure trying to undermine the Nazis from within, ultimately facing execution for his dissent. Additionally, we meet Erich Alenfeld, a Jewish man who converted to Christianity and maintained his allegiance to Germany, going so far as to write to Reichsminister Hermann Göring inquiring about military service.
Prominent figures from the period also make their appearances, including Joseph Goebbels, the propaganda minister known for both his manipulation of public morale and his personal exploits, which included coercing actresses for favors while expressing a peculiar fondness for Disney films.
Throughout Stay Alive, Buruma incorporates intriguing details; for example, one family trained their parrot to say "Heil, Hitler" to mislead potential Nazi officials during arrests. A group of filmmakers ingeniously continued shooting a project despite lacking film to avoid conscription into hopeless battles. Additionally, the narrative touches on how Jewish properties were appropriated by Nazi elites, many of which are now held by Russian oligarchs. Notably, those attempting to escape the Nazis came to be known as U-boats, submerging themselves in the city's clandestine networks.
Buruma, who has consistently examined themes of historical guilt and denial, skillfully navigates the familiar atrocities associated with the Nazis without overemphasis. However, he does illuminate two profound truths that resonate prominently in our contemporary context, as authoritarianism begins to reemerge globally.
Firstly, he asserts that living within a corrupt system inevitably leads to some forms of moral compromise. Regardless of one's status—be it a renowned symphony conductor or a police officer—Nazism impacted nearly everyone, compelling individuals to act in ways that contradicted their values, thereby undermining their moral integrity. As von Moltke reflected in correspondence with his wife: "Today, I can endure the sufferings of others with an equanimity I would have found execrable a year ago."
He was not alone in his sentiments. The second truth reflects how easily individuals can choose to conform. Many Berliners, including Buruma's father, engaged in their daily routines, sought personal enjoyment, and chose to avert their gaze from the cruelties unfolding around them. Buruma comments that this reality is "disturbing but should not surprise anyone. Human beings adapt, carry on, turn away from things they don't wish to see or hear."
If there is a standout figure in the book, it is likely Ruth Andreas-Friedrich, a journalist who epitomized courage by refusing to look away. She founded a resistance group called Uncle Emil, courageously defying the Nazis in efforts to protect Jews and support other resisters. While her braveness surpasses my own, I also admire her rejection of a sanctimonious stance towards those who chose to conform.
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