Otto, hast Du Worte?

 The Berlin Wall came down in 1989, not long after I had settled into my job at Keio University in Japan. I had lived through the Cold War in Germany and had many friends and family members for whom this event was a dream come true they were never convinced could happen in their lifetimes. It was a clear indication that the Cold War was over and Germany could now hope to look forward to becoming a normal European democracy. I sat in my living room watching the crowds pour out of East Berlin, tears streaming down my face.  If only Achim were still alive.  If only Tante Frieda were still alive.  The gods are cruel, I thought, for not allowing them and countless others of their fellow Germans to live long enough to experience this longed for event and renewal of faith in the human race's chances of building a better collectivity on the European continent.

I remember an article in Der Spiegel about a survey in which Germans were asked whether the defeat of Hitler and the Nazis was a defeat or a victory for Germany.  The overwhelming response showed a majority of Germans, even those who had at one point in their lives shown support for Adolf Hitler, were now convinced that the Holocaust and the tragic killing of millions upon millions of soldiers and civilians was a national shame it would take decades to recover from, but that Hitler's defeat was an essential step toward what would now be Germany's pursuit of democracy.

Anybody who has followed the German political scene since the defeat of Hitler is aware of how well Germany, often referred to as a Wirtschaftswunder - Economic Miracle has served as a model modern egalitarian state.

But let me get back to the time when I watched the news of Berliners tearing down the Wall and fighting back tears. The next day I met colleagues from the foreign language department where I worked and ran into a brick wall.  When I shared my enthusiasm for the "Mauerfall" - the "fall of the wall," one of my French teacher colleagues took the wind out of my sails with the comment, "Not everybody is as excited as you to see Germany united, considering their history up to 1945." 

I didn't know where to begin. This was a "Treppenwitz" situation - you know, where you think of what you should have said only after you've gone down the stairs after losing an argument (Treppenwitz = "l'esprit de l'escalier" = "staircase wit").  I didn't know whether I should feel anger or surprise.  Does this guy really believe that after all these years (it was now 1989) of recognition of the evils of the Nazi years that there were still Germans yearning to go back to them?  And to make things worse, this guy was Japanese.  He had picked up the anti-German prejudice from retrograde French friends and colleagues, no doubt.  Did he have no knowledge of the wider world and of historical developments?  He wasn't a stupid man.  How could he be so ignorant?

That was over thirty years ago.  Then, just the other day, to America's profound humiliation we saw a repeat of that ignorance of history as President Trump insulted both the morality and the intelligence of the German chancellor, Friedrich Merz, in the Oval Office.  Merz was trying to get Trump to realize how important America was in ending World War II and urging him to come once again to Europe's aid by stopping the war in Ukraine.  When Merz brought up June 6 as a great day to be celebrated, Trump's response was to wonder out loud: "not a great day for you?"

It's at times like this that I hear the voice of my Tante Frieda, who at moments of astonishment and outrage used to turn to her life partner, Otto, and say, "Otto, hast Du Worte?" - (Otto, do you have words?")