The passage below – written during WW2 – struck a chord in understanding some peoples’ driving motive in the present moment; Fear.
“They [the Germans] are afraid,” I replied, “they are afraid of everything and everybody; they kill and destroy out of fear. Not that they fear death; no German, man or woman, young or old, fears death. They are not even afraid of suffering. In a way one may say that they like pain.
But they are afraid of all that is living, of all that is living outside of themselves and of all that is different from them. The disease from which they suffer is mysterious. They are afraid above all of the weak, of the defenseless, of the sick, of women and of children. They are afraid of the aged.
Their fear has always aroused a profound pity in me. If Europe were to feel sorry for them, perhaps the Germans would be healed of their horrible disease.”
From an odd book I’m reading called “Kaputt.” It was written in 1944 by an Italian War correspondent. He started WW2 a Fascist, but emerged a leftist – perhaps less from conviction than opportunism.
The most reliable truth in the book is his familiarity-bred contempt for the Germans he rubbed shoulders with over those years. One excruciating chapter just relates a boozy dinner with the German Governor of Occupied Poland and his cronies.
The book itself is a neat read. Lovely writing although elegiac. More of a Magic Realist fiction/memoir. Not really “about” WW2 any more than 100 Years of Solitude is about Colombia. A moment in time shared by a unreliable but observant (and entertaining) narrator.
