Here is a small excerpt:
"I was reading the 1941 passages today. Klemperer had his house confiscated by the state, although he was still obliged to pay for a new roof. He was put in a Jewish Home with his wife. Every month, the noose tightens, and not just for him; shortages are rife, and the planes begin to drone overhead. His descriptions of the media give you an idea of where Orwell got the tone and flavor of “1984” – the state’s incessant pronouncements are heroic and brash and uncomplicated by nuance. Every battle is the greatest ever; every tactic the most brilliant in history. What interested me was his description of the dreaded Sunday announcements: The week would begin with stock phrases, such as “the plan is unfolding as expected;” the middle of the week would offer a glimpse of the news to come, and Sundays were always the same: blare of trumpets, drum roll, Deutschland Uber Alles and the Horst Wessel song, followed by an announcement of a victory on the whichever front the government chose to spotlight. The diarist found Sundays depressing; every victory meant the attenuation of the regime, a continuation of his torments. But surely it would fall soon; surely people would turn. Why, he’d noted that fewer people said “Heil Hitler” instead of “Good Morning” – this must mean something. It must. Perhaps it did, but it didn’t matter.
By “torments” I don’t mean he was hauled down to the station and beaten. No. He was just denied something different every week. Once the Jews had become accustomed to being banned from public libraries, they were banned from private lending libraries. Once they had gotten used to the special taxes, the taxes were raised. Once they had settled into the special apartment buildings after their homes were taken, they were denied common areas after dark and confined to their apartments. And so on. That was 1941. He had four years to go. Imagine yourself standing on a street at 7:30, watching the taxis pour past, knowing you must be in your room by eight, or it’s the train and the barracks.
Imagine telling that detail to a friend, and noting his shock: he had no idea. He was appalled. (As Klemperer relates it, his German friend, an eminently liberal humanist, nevertheless hoped for the defeat of England; he had managed to separate his dislike of Hitler from his abiding hatred of Great Britain. You infer that the latter blinded him to the former, and that allowed him to reconcile his humanism with the deprivations he knew his Jewish friends faced. In the end we must all make sacrifices, no?)
That was fascism."
Like I said you won't be disspointed.
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