Nazi ideology and practice has been examined in scholarly discourse as representative of a cultural movement of mass appeal, venerating sacred objects, carrying out specific rituals and even possessing a single leading figure. In hindsight, one could attribute these to a unique cultural occurrence as evident by those in support of the German Sonderweg Thesis. However, within these arbitrarily selected aspects and practices of Nazism, a pattern similar to that of other cultural movements, comparable to those associated with established religion, also emerges. Throughout this essay, it will be argued that Nazism resembles structural aspects of an organized religion, and that it will become easier to view the movement under this lens in contemporary socio-political discourse which has highlighted 20th century totalitarianism as drawing inspiration from religion (Burleigh, 2008). In order to asses the religiosity or religious links that Nazism possesses, Clifford Geertz’s 1966 definition of religion as a cultural system will be used. He states that religion is: “(1) A system of symbols which acts to (2) establish powerful, pervasive and long-lasting moods and motivations in men by (3) formulating conceptions of a general order of existence and (4) clothing those conceptions with such an aura of factuality that (5) the moods and motivations seem uniquely realistic” (Geertz, 1973). This essay will consequently take this definition as a basis, as Nazism will be examined under this more secular definition of religion and focus on the functional aspects of its authorial power in relation to political appropriation of religious structures. The extent to which Nazism is representative of a Christian faith will consequently not be delved into specifically, but the extent to which it holds up to this definition of religion in relation to it’s resembling of a ‘political religion’.
Symbols
In contrast to the theoretical domination of the Secularization Thesis, of which the core idea maintains that global levels of religiosity are declining in the 20th century, noted sociologists such as Durkheim offered an alternative interpretation in the early 1900s. Instead of a firm decline in religion, Durkheim proposes that “the old Gods are growing old”, and that symbol and ritual will instead become a part of a system of “new Gods” (Durkheim, Thompson & Thompson, 2005). To summarise, according to Durkheim, the core of religiosity defined by him as symbolic ritual will continue to be present, simply under renewed guise. The names and God’s with which these are associated will change over time but the nature of symbolic ritual and its efficacy will remain the same. Therefore, within this perspective, it is clearer to understand how Nazism could even be associated with religion on a symbolic level.
The symbol of blood is one that pervades Nazi rhetoric, particularly in that presented by Hitler himself. The concept of the Aryan as a pure Germanic race, free of any genealogical dilutions, was central to Hitler’s narrative of racial superiority as deemed appointed so by God. These ideas consequently formed a cultural discourse within Nazism that placed the Aryan ideal and history within the biblical story as God’s people, on a Promethean, redemptive mission for both God and humanity (Stowers, 2007). Blood, therefore held with it connotations of this racial superiority and purity, as given to the Germanic peoples by higher authority. The folly that had henceforth been committed by the Aryan race was that this blood was very literally becoming ‘diluted’ with other, lesser races. Within Mein Kampf, Hitler outlines the mystical fervor with which he views the symbol of blood linked to purity of race:
“Blood mixture and the resultant drop in the racial level is the sole cause of the dying out of old cultures; for men do not perish as a result of lost wars, but by the loss of that force of resistance which is contained only in pure blood. All who are not of good race in this world are chaff. And all occurrences in world history are only expression of the races’ instinct for self-preservation. What we must fight for is to safeguard the existence and reproduction of our race and our people, the sustenance of our children and the purity of our blood, the freedom and independence of the fatherland, so that our people may mature for the fulfilment of the mission allotted it by the creator of the universe.” (Hitler quotes in Maser, 1970)
Throughout this excerpt, it is clear to see that for Hitler himself, the imagery of blood provided a historical as well as biblical legitimisation for Aryan racial purity and superiority; a link to religious tradition that would have been appreciated and understood by a traditionally religious German public. In stating that the mixing of blood is the sole cause of the death of old cultures, Hitler places the power of the survival of a people and a culture in the hands of breeding alone. The idealism present in such a statement can therefore also place this rhetoric in a religious setting, by formulating a sense of a general order of existence surrounding it by stating that purity of blood ensures the cultural success of a people.
The centrality of the image of blood is similarly evident in a more ritualistic manner within the use of the ‘Blutfahne’. This ‘blood flag’, can be viewed as one of the most sacred relics of the Nazi ideology. Originally belonging to the 5th Sturm of the Munich SA, it was said to have been soaked with blood of the fallen martyrs from the 1923 Beer Hall Putsch (Steigmann-Gall, 2004). Following Hitler’s release from prison in 1925, the flag took on an identity of its own; synonymous with Nazi martyrdom and the willingness to die for one’s convictions. The flag became so important as this symbol, that its very touch and presence was used in order to ‘sanctify’ or initiate other standards and Nazi imagery for use. Furthermore, the Blutfahne was even provided with it’s own attendant, a ‘Sturmbannfuhrer’. The way in which this item began to rise above its status as a mere flag and take on attributes and connotations of the values at the core of the Nazi ideology echoes similar patterns in organized religion (Babik, 2006). For instance, in Christianity, the symbol of blood is equally as potent in, for Catholics, the very real symbol of the drinking of the blood of Christ during Transubstantiation. Like the sacrifices of Jesus are remembered through the sanctification of the Eucharist, the sacrifices of the Nazi martyrs are remembered in the use and presence of the Blutfahne. It must be said however, that this importance on the meaning and interpretation of symbol and ritual is much more akin to those associated with Catholicism as opposed to Protestantism. This is testament to the general weakness of the Nazi resolve to hold Protestantism as central to German identity; Christianity was the preferred heading in order to prevent unwanted division of the German public towards Nazi ideals, particularly early on in their rise to power as it was preferred and easier to view the German people as one cohesive unit to approach (Burleigh, 2008).
Furthermore, one can see how the Catholic pasts of multiple Nazi leaders, including Hitler, was allowed to seep through in the creation of sanctified objects such as the Blood Flag, and how Protestantism as a whole was viewed more as an effective measure to band the people of Germany as a whole together, as opposed to a desired religious motivation (Burleigh, 2008). The result of the use of such symbols and rituals thus pandered to the effect of mobilisation and practice in order to induce an unwavering public following, as opposed a following with a devout depth of conviction. The appropriation of these ideas and their transferal to Nazism can thus be interpreted as evidence of their status as a political religion. In this sense, many secular political and especially totalitarian movements display similarities to religious movements in drawing on methods of visual representation in order to generate feelings physical representation and belonging.
Another feature of Nazi symbolism and ritual arises in the form of their focus on parades. Within Nazi propaganda films such as those filmed by prominent Nazi filmographer Leni Riefenstahl, the organisation of her films centers around the staged organisation of rallies and parades. This is especially evident in ‘Triumph of the Will’, where, in the opening few minutes footage shot from the air displays rows and rows of tents, part of the summer camp activities of the Hitler Youth. The systematic arrangement of the straight parallel lines of tents presents an image of order and structure, producing a link between these ideals and the Nazi system of government and power. This is further evident in the scenes shot from one of the Nuremberg Rallies, which show perfectly aligned rows of spectators and soldiers, arranged in starkly geometrical patterns (Winston, 1997). The idea that Fascist movements themselves look to the visual imagery of great empires such as the Ancient Romans is particularly evident in images like these (Burleigh, 2008). The regular lines and systematic arrangement of people and architecture displayed throughout the propagandistic filmography of the Nazi regime is especially evocative of such. This not only links Nazism to a hugely successful military empire, but also the cultural history from which the contemporary Roman Catholic Church finds its roots. This is evident in the similarity of Nazi parade to that encountered in Catholic effigial procession and public adorational display. Therefore, in its visual culture, it provides connotations of both the systematic efficacy of the Roman Empire, but also in this, the cultural origins of symbols associated with the public practices Catholicism.
Moods and Motivations
Another aspect within Geertz’ conception of religion is its ability, through use of symbols, to “establish powerful, pervasive and long-lasting moods and motivations in men” (1973). Hitler himself is said to have placed immense value on the concept of belief in a higher power; irrelevant to whom the higher power might be, the importance was on the idea of firm belief and feeling, a considerably more secular interpretation (Hitler, Cameron, Stevens & Trevor-Roper, 2000). Within ‘Triumph of the Will’, the portrayal of the Nuremberg Rally exhibits an atmosphere characterized by emotion. The echoing din of the roaring crowd, close ups of Hitler’s face, as well as the low lighting in the final scene during his speech all elicit the sense that those there as well as Hitler himself were enraptured by emotion throughout the Rally. Of course however, the nature of the film is one of propaganda with an ulterior motive of convincing viewers of the power of Nazism through an emotional ploy. However, according to journalist William Shirer, an attendee and eyewitness of the 1934 Nuremberg Rally, the atmosphere was indeed similar to the hyperbolic way in which it was represented in the film. He states that “every word dropped by Hitler seemed like an inspired word from on high. Man’s – or at least the German’s – critical faculty is swept away at such moments, and every lie pronounced is accepted as high truth itself” (Shirer quoted in Sennett, 2014). Therefore, it can be interpreted that despite Riefenstahl’s work falling into the realm of political propaganda, even designated as such by Goebbels and the media office at the time, it does display a sense of truth in the depth of conviction aroused in the people present in the moment; the atmosphere elaborately and dramatically represented was indeed what was being enacted and arousing ‘moods and motivations’ (Geertz).
Additionally, although ‘Triumph of the Will’ can be examined in hindsight as a perfect representative of interpreting Nazism as a religion, it’s ability to rouse ‘moods and motivations in men’ at the time is debatable. It’s status as a documentary in itself is hardly mood swaying simply due to its monotonous and repetitive nature. According to British media scholar Brian Winston, Riefenstahl had not created a propagandistic masterpiece akin to the Nazi equivalent of the Bolshevik ‘Battleship Potemkin’, but a boring 107 minutes of continual marching parades and speeches (1997). Despite this, the film was deemed a commercial success by the UFA particularly in German cities, with Berlin audience numbers amounting to over 100,000 (Sennett, 2014). In rural areas however, the film was dramatically less successful, at times only running in provincial cinemas for a couple of days. This staggering difference between urban and rural areas can potentially be explained by the urban setting of the film itself, displaying Hitler in the city of Nuremberg, in areas that were accustomed to the parades and public displays of the Nazi party. Additionally, propaganda itself permeated urban areas at a far higher level than rural locations. Hence why it is assumed that rural audiences simply interpreted the film as unfamiliar and unrelatable, which in combination with the length and monotony, created uninteresting viewing. The mixed reviews and popularity of the film and the fact that it was not such an outright success can be attributed to the failure of Hitler to be able to adequately maneuver the techniques needed in order to sway moods and motivations. For instance, Goebbels, the Reich Propaganda and Public Education Minister, was far more adept in tapping into what specifically hooked an audience and guided them towards a certain perspective. His 1940 work, ‘Jew Suss’ was testimony of this. Instead of presenting the acutely political ‘Fuhrerprinzip’ ressembled by Hitler’s ‘Triumph of the Will’, Goebbels focused on being wholly subversive in his methods of presentation. Within the dramatically more commercially successful ‘Jew Suss’, he taps into public fear and suspicion to arouse a particular mood, a rather less religiously connoted and emotional method of public persuasion (Sennett, 2014).
Additionally, one can argue that the roots of Nazism themselves owe considerably to emotion in their classification as an extremely Nationalistic movement, building on the supposedly innate love of the Motherland as a basis for the mobilization of its people. In appealing to this sense of extreme nationalism, evident in Hitler’s Aryan superiority rhetoric, the Nazi ideology simultaneously creates the image of the need for societal salvation. Hitler even refers to the Aryan race as “God’s chosen people”, therefore, in the placement of himself as the leader of the ideal Aryan, he assumes the position of a Messiah. This fits in with the idea presented by author Michael Burleigh in his text ‘National Socialism as Political Religion’, in which he states that Nazism: “realized that only something similar [to Christianity] would obliterate it, namely what has best been described as “a kind of destructive mimesis” (2008). Additionally, in regards to Christianity under the Nazi regime he declares that: ‘the fundamental tenets were stripped out, but the remaining diffuse religious emotionality had its uses’ (2008). Henceforth, it can be suggested that the framework of organized Christianity was used as a basis to destroy it’s hold on the structure of German life, in order for Nazism to take its place and feed off the remaining sense of emotion and devotion. Therefore, this adequately positions Nazism in the realm of religion in manipulating traditionally religiously motivated emotion towards their own goal of a cohesive society. Nazism then very literally becomes a political religion in its ability to establish “moods and motivations in men” (Geertz, 1966). Again present in the eyewitness testimony by journalist William Shirer, these themes were equally present in the 1934 Nuremberg Rally:
“Borrowing a chapter from the Roman (Catholic) Church, he is restoring pageantry and color to the drab lives of 20th century Germans. This mornings opening meeting…was more than a gorgeous show, it also had something of the mysticism and religious fervor of an Easter of Christmas Mass in a great Gothic cathedral.” (Shirer quoted in Sennett, 2014)
Within this description, Shirer explicitly links the event to one filled with religious connotation and likeness. However, despite mentioning the link to Roman Catholicism, he also removes two specific aspects of it in the use of the words ‘pageantry’ and ‘color’. In doing so, he equally reflects on the fact that it was the religious framework and existing system that was of paramount importance to Nazi ideology, not the religious content itself. In referring to the lives of the German people before the event as ‘drab’, he also implicitly refers to the rhetorical power of Hitler in changing their lives with his speech and spectacle. In this sense however, one can argue that persuading a crowd in the context of a presentation or speech is part of a key element of a successful rhetor. Thus arousing ‘moods and motivations’, no longer becomes explicitly religious but makes use of the function of the trope of the messianic message in order to sway a crowd politically. Politics and the very method of trying to convince and persuade has always made use of rhetoric, thus it can be argued that it is not religious in origin at all and has instead been something that religion has appropriated from secular methods of persuasion. It can still be maintained however, that Hitler did not ignore the religious connotations that inspiring rhetoric could possess and used these to his advantage. Nazism did not have as much support from the lower and working classes, the traditionally more religious sectors of German society. Thus, in maintaining the element of the trope of religious messianism, Nazism links the familiar in attempting to create a front of populist appeal (Haberlein, 2013). Hence, one can also see that there has been a conception of a general order of existence created in order for Nazism to appear as a familiar concept and ideology, easy to slip into public consciousness.
Much debate surrounds the consciousness of Nazi leaders towards this religious interpretation of Nazism as their personal convictions remain conflicting. Hitler himself, having been raised in Catholic Austria, condemned the Bible as being too jewish. However, in a speech in 1920, he stated that the Nazis “supported every Christian activity” (Stowers, 2007). These blurred lines were definitive of the views of Nazi officials themselves. Yet, in support of the interpretation of Nazism as a form of political religion, Hitler displays a support of the Catholic Church’s authority and absolute dogmatic power. This again displays a sense of an admiration at the empty structure of organised religion and it’s ability to generate a sense of public belief and conformity. Hitler was not personally interested in the content of religious doctrine, but rather the usefulness of it’s structural authority and means of persuading (Babik, 2006). Perhaps Hitler may have personally been far less supportive or accepting of even Christian beliefs, but to say this publically would have been far too extreme for the traditional German public. Therefore, it can be argued that it was less a desire for the Nazi ideology to be elevated to a divine status, but to be placed in the systematically powerful position of an organised religion in Germany.
In this way, by using the structuralist functionalist approach to religion demonstrated in Geertz’ definition, a secular interpretation of Nazism and its relation and use of religion can be discussed. By using symbols associated with Germany’s Christian past and the prominence of grandiose rallies and rituals in order to assert a certain mood of the movement, Nazism appropriates means of generating an order of existence similar to organised religion. Referring back to the quote provided by Michael Burleigh, Nazism very much extracts aspects of the existing structure of authority presented by the church in Germany in order to acquire them and consequently tip the balance of paramount authority towards themselves. In order to become a body with cohesive and comprehensive power, Nazism took on a politically religious identity to further assert their power through the subversive method of existing power structures.