Barney Ronay’s article resonated very strongly with me (‘On a journey through Germany, the horror of the past lurks close to the surface’, Sport, 22 June). He spoke with clarity on how past horror echoed in his encounters with places and spaces in everyday Germany, from mundane buildings to the seemingly innocent woodland clearing. I too am from a “Jewish enough” family displaced from Nazi Germany. Our family has those seemingly improbable stories of survival, and I sometimes wonder if I should have existed at all.
That Gestapo knock on the door has cast a long shadow and, throughout my “improbable” life, has caused me to ask how this terror arose. I wonder what its harbingers are, so we might not make such terror again. But right now we are witness to it. We can all see it raising its grotesquely mundane yet human head, with larger-than–life characters encouraging us to devalue and demean those who are different.
So I ask your readers, can you learn the lessons of history? Will you have the courage not to stand aside and, in doing so, to make yourself dangerously different?
Jennifer Lewin Kerr
Huddersfield, West Yorkshire
• Whenever I return to the country of my birth and walk through the parks and squares of London, generously endowed with statues and monuments to Britain’s glorious imperial past, I reflect how lucky Britain is that the millions of colonial subjects who were slaughtered in building the country’s empire perished in faraway places and not in the railway sidings, village squares and forests of England’s green and pleasant land.
Nevertheless, the horror of that bloodstained past inevitably lurks close to the surface, the more so precisely because, in contrast to Germany’s past, it is still largely glossed over – and even glorified. So despite Barney Ronay’s disquiet at seeing Germany’s neatly parked bicycles, its staircases, corridors, suitcases and shoes, discarded or otherwise, I am glad to return to my adopted country.
Stephen Richards
Frankfurt, Germany
• On my first visit to Germany, 14 years ago, my experience echoed that of Barney Ronay. But living here part of the year teaches me that those perceptions reflected what I brought with me from England.
Atonement isn’t possible, but a careful dedication to ensuring the past doesn’t repeat itself prevails. Human rights are enshrined in the constitution. Every year, successive generations of teenagers clean the “stumbling stones” so that the names of the victims of fascism shine more clearly. Our town has recently updated a book about local victims of the Shoah. When their descendants make intended visits known, they are invited to be guests of the town, and treated with honour, respect and humility.
Yes, there is a veer to the right and, yes, Alternative für Deutschland (AfD) has traction, but in recent months thousands have demonstrated against it in numerous cities. The right is in the ascendant in Britain, too, with less outcry. Modern Germany is flawed, it’s going through some difficult times. But perhaps its past leads it to strive harder to stay clear of the extremes threatening the west.
Rebecca Bilkau
Wolfenbüttel, Germany
• I’ve been living and working in Germany for nearly 30 years and Barney Ronay is correct: some parts are thought-provoking – dark forests and railway sidings, for example. It’s these reminders that ensure that the concept of Nie wieder (“never again”) is firmly implanted in the national psyche. The AfD finds itself under considerable examination at the moment, both from the media and the parts of the state charged with ensuring that Nie wieder is more than just words. You can also see this on the streets: Germans of all religions, including Muslims and Jews, standing shoulder to shoulder under the banner of Nie wieder ist jetzt – “never again is now”.
Tony Webb
Berlin, Germany
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