“If I must write…with my hands in chains, I find that much better than if my will were in chains.” ~ Franz Jägerstätter 2012 marks the seventy-fifth anniversary of the papal encyclical Mit Brennender Sorge (“With Burning Anxiety”) which denounced National Socialism and any ideology that “divinizes” the state “to an idolatrous level.” Such ideologies were increasingly widespread in Europe in 1937, and after four years of Hitler, the German state had become increasingly brutal, and even those who escaped slavery or murder saw what few rights they had left under siege. Things would become much worse, and by 1943, when the end began to come into view following the disastrous defeat for the Reich at Stalingrad, there were few Germans left who were willing to resist. In 1937, however, the full extent of Nazi repression and mass murder was yet to be seen, and Church sympathizers were able to distribute 300,000 copies of Mit Brennender Sorge, which was written in German, and not the usual Latin, to be read by German Catholics en masse. In these early years of the Reich, it was thought that the Germans might be convinced to somehow overturn the Nazi tide through resistance by the faithful. At the core of the argument was that the National Socialist ideology, itself a form of extreme nationalism, was illegitimate and contrary to natural law. The encyclical stated:
…Whoever exalts race, or the people, or the State, or a particular form of State, or the depositories of power, or any other fundamental value of the human community – however necessary and honorable be their function in worldly things – whoever raises these notions above their standard value and divinizes them to an idolatrous level, distorts and perverts an order of the world planned and created by God.
Such notions, long predating the Third Reich of course, were an obstacle to the state, and by 1937, the Nazis had already begun to restrict the free exercise of religion in general, to which Pius responded that:
The believer has an absolute right to profess his Faith and live according to its dictates. Laws which impede this profession and practice of Faith are against natural law…Human laws in flagrant contradiction with the natural law are vitiated with a taint which no force, no power can mend…
The Nazi Crackdown on Catholic Resistance Unfortunately, the document did little to promote widespread resistance to the Reich. In fact, Nazi officials interpreted the release of the encyclical as proof that German Catholics were enemies of the Reich, and thus the document led to a redoubling of efforts by the Nazi regime against German Catholic parishes and institutions through arrests, seizure of property, and the prohibition of public displays of faith such as the celebration of religious events on any day other than Sunday. The repression that followed even this rhetorical resistance on the part of the Catholics set the stage for even worse repression that would later follow, and by the 1940’s, the German Catholic resistance, along with the German resistance in general, was down to a tiny number of courageous Germans, many of whom were imprisoned or murdered for their efforts. Among the more famous of the Catholic resistance were Bishop Clemens von Galen of Münster and Willi Graf of Sophie Scholl’s group, The White Rose. Yet by the 1940’s the Catholic resistance had been cut off from Rome and the rest of the world and the remaining laymen and clergy who were still willing to resist would find that they were very much alone. While von Galen managed to avoid execution, Graf and many others of diverse religious and ideological backgrounds, such as Hans and Sophie Scholl, were not so lucky, facing death by guillotine for various crimes against the German Reich. An Ordinary Man and Opponent of Hitler Among the many executed resistors was Franz Jägerstätter, who was put to death for refusing to fight for the National Socialist state. Jägerstätter was an Austrian who after the Anschluss of 1938 found himself a German citizen. A farmer with a rudimentary formal education, he had been the only one in his village to vote against the annexation of Austria, and even his one vote had been expunged from the official vote to show unanimous support for the National Socialist takeover. By 1943, Jägerstätter had had already long been a critic of the Nazis, and was known to say “pfui Hitler” in response to “heil Hitler” from others in his village. Jägerstätter, who gave the impression of being an extremely run-of-the-mill farmer, was nevertheless devoutly religious, and over time came to the conclusion that National Socialism was fundamentally incompatible with his faith. Although he was not inclined toward political activism, he was eventually forced into a position of resistance. Made a citizen of the Reich against his will, Jägerstätter was drafted into the army and forced to take part in training exercises which took him away from his wife and his three young daughters for long periods of time. His experiences in the army only strengthened his resistance to the National Socialist war machine, and following a long series of delays and furloughs, Jägerstätter was ordered to report for combat duty in March of 1943. Concluding that he would not kill Poles or Russians for the glory of the German state, Jägerstätter reported for combat duty and declared that he would not fight. He was immediately arrested. In 1943, he was tried, convicted of treason and “demoralizing the troops”, and on August 9th, 1943 at 4:00 pm, he was executed by guillotine in Berlin-Brandenburg prison. Jägerstätter, who would be declared a martyr by the Catholic Church and titled Blessed Franz Jägerstätter in 2007, had remained almost completely unknown outside his home village in the years following the war. Thanks largely to the work of sociologist Gordon Zahn, however, information on Jägerstätter has become increasingly accessible in recent decades, and with the 2009 release of Franz Jägerstätter: Letters and Writings from Prison, edited by Erna Putz, English-speaking audiences now finally have first-hand access to the Austrian farmer’s religious and political thought. In his letters and private notes, Jägerstätter’s religious writings illustrate thinking of a clear and straightforward nature while his political writings illustrate mature, sophisticated and even iconoclastic positions. By the 1940’s, Jägerstätter, spurred on by Mit Brennender Sorge and perhaps also by the anti-Nazi dissent of the local Bishop Johannes Gföllner, looked upon National Socialism as something to be resisted, possibly at even the cost of one’s life. For a German or Austrian who was actually paying attention during this period, it was perhaps not difficult to see the inherent incompatibility between Nazism and Christianity. The notorious Nazi judge Roland Freisler, for example, had declared before the war that “Christianity and we are alike in only one respect: we lay claim to the whole individual. From which do you take your orders? From the hereafter or from Adolf Hitler? To whom do you pledge your loyalty and your faith?” Long before the Anschluss, in 1933, when such things could be said without risk of a lengthy prison term, Bishop Gföllner of Linz in Austria declared publicly that “Nazism is spiritually sick with materialistic racial delusions, un-Christian nationalism, a nationalistic view of religion, with what is quite simply sham Christianity.” Again in 1937, Gföllner stated that “It is impossible to be both a good Catholic and a true Nazi.” By 1941 though, Gföllner’s death ushered in a new Bishop in Linz who spoke much more cautiously on such matters. Indeed, the Nazi crackdown against the Catholics of the Reich following the publication of Mit Brennender Sorge meant that the free-speaking bishops in the model of Gföllner were quickly becoming a thing of the past, and this silence spread to Austria after 1938. Dissidents like Bishop von Galen were atypical, and for the most part, clergy at all levels began to view open resistance against the National Socialist regime as not only foolhardy, but very nearly suicidal. Most Catholics at the Time Went With the Flow This meant that those like Franz Jägerstätter who actually did resist, would find themselves on their own with little help from clergy or laymen. This lack of outside reassurance did not daunt Jägerstätter. Writing in 1942, he referred back to Mit Brenender Sorge and concluded that since National Socialism is “even more dangerous than Communism” the Christian was therefore morally free to refuse military service: “Is it not more Christian for someone to give himself as a sacrifice then to have to murder others who possess a right to life on earth?” Typical for Jägerstätter, in such comments, he was communicating a personal mode of thinking that was far more radical than the popular interpretation of political matters at the time. In the introduction to Erna Putz’s edition of Jägerstätter’s texts, Jim Forest notes that, “if not a doctrine found in any catechism, it was widely believed [at that time in Europe] that any sins you commit under obedience to your government are not your personal sins but are regarded by God as the sins of those who lead the state.” In fact, this was precisely the advice Jägerstätter received from the new bishop of Linz, Joseph Fliesser, with whom Jägerstätter met to discuss the morality of his upcoming conscientious objection. According to Jägerstätter, the bishop may have feared that Jägerstätter himself was a Gestapo spy and preferred to not even discuss the matter, but counseled in favor of obedience. Jägerstätter later commented, without anger, that “[t]hey don’t dare commit themselves or it will be their turn next.” But in response to the argument that one is not morally responsible for immoral acts he is ordered to do, Jägerstätter dissented. According to Forest, “for Franz it seemed obvious that, if God gives each of us free will and a conscience, each of us is responsible for what we do and what we fail to do, all the more so if we are consciously aware we have allowed ourselves to become servants of evil masters.” Not allowing oneself to become a servant of “evil masters” was of particular importance to Jägerstätter. He repeatedly criticized his fellow members of the “German-speaking people” for allowing the National Socialists to take power. Referring specifically to the Catholic regions of Bavaria and Austria, Franz asked:
Are Austria and Bavaria blameless in that we now have a N.S. [National Socialist] state instead of a Christian one? Did National Socialism simply fall on us from the sky?
He went on:
I believe that the German-speaking people never participated as strongly in Christian charitable activities as they are now engaging in the N.S. organizations. Nor were they as ready to contribute their money to church programs.
Frequently in his writings, Jägerstätter referred to National Socialism as a “stream” which pulled so many people along in its current, and from which it was difficult to escape. Jägerstätter’s Ideology of Political Resistance The nature of this stream helped explain why so few actually resisted the National Socialist regime, for as Franz noted, there are many “who do not want to swim against the stream because to do so is more difficult than to allow oneself to be washed along by the waves.” Yet in Jägerstätter’s mind, resistance was always possible no matter how strong the current of the stream might be. No matter how difficult, Jägerstätter wrote that resistance would be worth it:
Many among us have already died, though not for Christ but for a N.S. victory. Was a no such an impossibility and more beyond the capability of many people in 1938 than a yes? I believe not. But what can a no still bring about? Will it require the participation of many people? Without a doubt, one person need not ask others what it would mean and accomplish. For each individual, a no would have value in itself because it would free that individual’s soul.
Once the individual refused to consent, he could then take concrete action to refuse to participate in the regime:
In order to come to this personal decision, someone must be ready to stand up for Christ and the Christian faith, even if it means giving up one’s life. These people who have come to this decision can immediately withdraw from the N.S. Volk community and make no donations to it. Further, if they want to exercise Christian love of neighbor, they can contribute their wages to the poor without the help of the W.H.W. [the Winterhilfswerk, the Nazi welfare agency] or the Public Assistance program. Then they will be free to do with themselves as they want.
Jägerstätter did all of this himself at great personal cost to himself in the form of alienation from his neighbors and in the form of lost income from the state, from which he refused to accept public assistance. Interestingly, we see here in Jägerstätter’s political program a plan of mass civil disobedience that could have been inspired by Etienne de la Boetie’s Discourse on Voluntary Servitude, although it is unlikely that Jägerstätter ever read it. In fact, we find in his writings a man who understood the key to undermining political power in the face of a dictator with untrammeled power. In Murray Rothbard’s introduction to the Discourse, he states that
Thus, after concluding that all tyranny rests on popular consent, La Boétie eloquently concludes that “obviously there is no need of fighting to overcome this single tyrant, for he is automatically defeated if the country refuses consent to its own enslavement.” Tyrants need not be expropriated by force; they need only be deprived of the public’s continuing supply of funds and resources. The more one yields to tyrants, La Boétie points out, the stronger and mightier they become.
Some would undoubtedly argue that open disobedience would only bring greater repression form those who did remain obedient, but in Jägerstätter’s mind, he failed to see how things would be worse had others like him actually stood their ground:
Things would be no worse today for genuine Christian faith in our land if the churches were no longer open and if thousands of Christians had poured out their blood and their lives for Christ and their faith. This would be better than now watching silently as there is more and more acceptance of falsehood.
In Jägerstätter’s time, as today, most saw resistance to tyrants as foolishness. It was much better to comply and save one’s skin. The Catholic clergy certainly did its part to talk Jägerstätter out of his plan of action. Jägerstätter’s local parish priest, who had himself served time in prison for speaking against Hitler, said that “I wanted to talk him out of it, but he defeated me again and again with words from the scriptures.” Jägerstätter Alone Later, as the threat of execution became ever more real, Fr. Ferdinand Furthauer also tried to talk him out of it, and later regretted his intervention saying “I often pray that Franz Jägerstätter may forgive me.” Franz’s wife Franziska was one of the few who supported him. According to Erna Putz, “[i]t was immediately clear to everyone that conscientious objection would cost Franz his life. His mother tried through relatives to change her son’s mind. Franziska spoke to him too, at the start. But as everyone tried to talk him round, as the arguments went on and he was quite alone against them all, she stood by him. “If I had not stood by him, he would have had no one,’ she explained.” Although many dragged their heels in going along with the regime, why did Jägerstätter draw such a clear line which brought condemnation down upon him? We know it was not just resistance to National Socialism’s inherent anti-Catholicism. The reasons were many. Jägerstätter explained that “I cannot and may not take an oath in favor of a government that is fighting an unjust war.” It is unclear under what circumstances Jägerstätter would have been willing to take up arms for the state, although he did outline his objections to the National Socialist program specifically. Of great importance is the fact that Jägerstätter simply did not believe the Nazi propaganda. Hitler’s speeches and the speeches of his propagandists frequently mentioned God and the defense of Christian civilization as justification for the war. Jägerstätter clearly rejected this on the grounds that the National Socialists were anti-Christian, but also on the grounds that wars of conquest are, in their very nature counter to the act of actually defending the faith.
When our Catholic missionaries went into pagan lands in order to make people Christian, did they go in with fighter planes and bombs…[a]re we Christians today smarter than Christ himself? Do some of us truly believe that we can rescue Christian belief in Europe from a decline…by means of this massive shedding of blood? Did our good savior, whom we should always follow, go against paganism with his apostles as we German-speaking Christians are now going against [Bolshevism]?
We see that it was not just the nature of National Socialism, but also the war itself that Jägerstätter so opposed. And it is important to note that he knew little of the true horrors of the war. What he did know about the atrocities and death camps of the east was largely hearsay and rumor in Jägerstätter’s place and time. He simply knew that bombing women and children in the name of national defense or in the name of defending the faith was not something he was going to support. What of the advice others gave to him to save his own skin and rejoin his family? For Franz, these arguments failed even on a practical level. Consenting to go fight in the war, where he would be called upon to kill innocents, was only playing the odds. There had been already 750,000 casualties for the Reich at Stalingrad alone. If Jägerstätter were shipped off to the eastern front, what were the odds he would ever return? So many men in his village had already been killed in action leaving behind impoverished widows and orphans. So Jägerstätter had the choice of playing the odds, abandoning his convictions and hoping he might avoid a meaningless death on the front. Or he might refuse to kill for the state, even if it meant certain death. If one is to risk one’s life, Jägerstätter thought, would it not better to do it for Christ than for Hitler? In Jägerstätter’s view, if no one is guaranteed another day on earth, why let what little time one has left be wasted in fighting for the National Socialists? Why not die a free man rather than a slave? In his last note, Jägerstätter wrote “Now I’ll write down a few words as they come to me from my heart. Although I am writing them with my hands in chains, this is still much better than if my will were in chains.” Very few came to the same conclusion, and at the end, even Jägerstätter longed for some corroboration of his position. This came mere hours before his execution, when he was told that Fr. Franz Reinisch had been recently executed for also refusing to fight for the Reich. This news strengthened Jägerstätter’s resolve all the more, and although we now know that over 4,000 priests had been executed by the Nazis for various sorts of disobedience, these cases were known by few at the time. Jägerstätter was executed as a traitor on August 9th and his ashes were buried in a nearby cemetery, far from his family. In the following years, Jägerstätter’s former neighbors regarded him as either an impractical eccentric or as an outright traitor, and they offered his widow little help. In one interview, Jim Forest noted that after calmly recounting the death of her husband, Franziska Jägerstätter “broke down in tears while describing the subsequent behavior of her neighbors.” Franziska even lived in fear and later explained that “I thought no one would ever know about him. I hid his letters under my mattress for decades.” Since then, Jägerstätter has become the patron saint of conscientious objectors and a hero to antiwar activists. His story and his writing have much to teach not only Christians, but also anyone who seeks freedom of conscience and who opposes war and authoritarian regimes in the face of a complacent and obedient population. For now, we Americans can still legally criticize the state – most of the time – and at the moment, there is no conscription. But history has shown that such a state of affairs is hardly guaranteed in this country or any other country. It is still possible for now in many cases to say “no” without risking death or a lengthy prison term. But the time may come when it is not as easy, and then many will face choices like those faced by Jägerstätter. But even then, refusing to obey will, in the words of Jägerstätter, “free that individual’s soul.” It is always still possible to do something, and according to Fr. John Dear, “In an insane world, Franz points the way: refuse to fight, refuse to kill, refuse to be complicit in warmaking, refuse to compromise.”