Inside Cover Blurb
- From the internationally acclaimed author of Hitler's Private Library, a dramatic recounting of the six critical months before Adolf Hitler assumed power, when the Nazi leader teetered between triumph and ruin.
- In the summer of 1932, the Weimar Republic was on the verge of collapse. One in three Germans was unemployed. Violence was rampant. Hitler's National Socialists surged at the polls. Paul von Hindenburg, an aging war hero and avowed monarchist, was a reluctant president bound by oath to uphold the constitution. The November elections offered Hitler the prospect of a Reichstag majority and a path to political power. But instead, the Nazis lost two million votes. As membership hemorrhaged and financial backers withdrew, the Nazi Party threatened to fracture. Hitler talked of suicide. The New York Times declared he was finished. Yet somehow, in a few brief weeks, he was chancellor of Germany.
- In fascinating detail and with previously un-accessed archival materials, Timothy W. Ryback tells the remarkable story of Hitler's dismantling of democracy through the democratic process. He provides a fresh perspective and insights into Hitler's personal and professional lives in these months, in all their complexity and uncertainty-backroom deals, unlikely alliances, stunning betrayals, an ill-timed tax audit, and a fateful weekend that changed our world forever. Above all, Ryback makes clear why a wearied Hindenburg, who disdained the "Bohemian corporal," ultimately decided to appoint Hitler chancellor in January 1933.
- Within weeks, Germany was no longer a democracy.
Amazon Reviews
- Timothy W. Ryback tells a grippingly important tale. His meticulous detailing of the dramatic days before Hitler assumed power make for salutary reading in our times. Will the tragic failure of civil courage and political will be repeated - Germany 1933, America 2024? It's hard not to imagine.
→ Philippe Sands
- How does a flawed republic become something entirely different? We know how the Nazi regime ended, but we think too little about how it began. This admirable account shows us how fragile and avoidable were those beginnings and helps us to reflect upon our own predicament.
→ Timothy Snyder, author of On Tyranny
- Timothy Ryback has written an engrossing clock-ticker of a narrative about the behind-the-scenes machinations and open politicking that vaulted Hitler and the Nazi Party to power. Nothing was inevitable about their triumph, and plenty of contemporary observers were caught off guard by it, as Ryback shows to chilling effect. The relevance to authoritarianism today is urgent and unmistakable. Takeover is a vital read for anyone who cares about the future of democracy.
→ Margaret Talbot, staff writer, The New Yorker
- If you ever thought that history is moved only by big, sweeping forces, whether of economics or creed or nature itself, think again. In this riveting, intimate account of the final months in Hitler's rise to power, Timothy Ryback makes it plain that simple luck, bald ambition, and fallible human hearts can be drivers of earth-changing events.
→ Max Rodenbeck, Berlin bureau chief, The Economist
- It is a brilliant, stunning achievement. I was absolutely thrilled, gripped, and horrified by what was unfolding before my eyes. And so much of it was new to me. Of course, I knew the story but the detail is so vivid - the reader is swept along by every twist and turn - it's like being in the room, in the car, on the plane, at the meetings... And even though one knows the horrible outcome, right up to the very last pages of the final chapter, it seems impossible that the evil little man will ever become Chancellor. In the final row - with Hindenburg kept waiting - hope springs eternal, and is shouting 'don't do it. don't do it, don't do it! ' I feel completely wrung out. I shan't sleep tonight. I must go and make a sandwich as I find I'm starving. I am still in my pyjamas - having started this morning I could not ever break off to shave and dress. I cannot find words of praise sufficient - the clarity and drive of the text is astonishing.
→ Mike Poulton, award-winning dramatist who adapted Wolf Hall and Bring Up the Bodies for the stage
Book Comment
"Gopnik (Adam) - The Forgotten History of Hitler’s Establishment Enablers"
Source: The New Yorker, 18 March 2024
Full Text1
- Hitler is so fully imagined a subject—so obsessively present on our televisions and in our bookstores—that to reimagine him seems pointless. As with the Hollywood fascination with Charles Manson, speculative curiosity gives retrospective glamour to evil. Hitler created a world in which women were transported with their children for days in closed train cars and then had to watch those chamber. To ask whether the man responsible for this was motivated by reading Oswald Spengler or merely by meeting him seems to attribute too much complexity of purpose to him, not to mention posthumous dignity. Yet allowing the specifics of his ascent to be clouded by disdain is not much better than allowing his memory to be ennobled by mystery.
- So the historian Timothy W. Ryback's choice to make his new book, "Ryback (Timoth W.) - Takeover" (Knopf), an aggressively specific chronicle of a single year, 1932, seems a wise, even an inspired one. Ryback details, week by week, day by day, and sometimes hour by hour, how a country with a functional, if flawed, democratic machinery handed absolute power over to someone who could never claim a majority in an actual election and whom the entire conservative political class regarded as a chaotic clown with a violent following. Ryback shows how major players thought they could find some ulterior advantage in managing him. Each was sure that, after the passing of a brief storm cloud, so obviously overloaded that it had to expend itself, they would emerge in possession of power. The corporate bosses thought that, if you looked past the strutting and the performative antisemitism, you had someone who would protect your money. Communist ideologues thought that, if you peered deeply enough into the strutting and the performative antisemitism, you could spy the pattern of a popular revolution. The decent right thought that he was too obviously deranged to remain in power long, and the decent left, tempered by earlier fights against different enemies, thought that, if they forcibly stuck to the rule of law, then the law would somehow by itself entrap a lawless leader. In a now familiar paradox, the rational forces stuck to magical thinking, while the irrational ones were more logical, parsing the brute equations of power. And so the storm never passed. In a way, it still has not.
- Ryback's story begins soon after Hitler's very incomplete victory in the Weimar Republic's parliamentary elections of July, 1932. Hitler's party, the National Socialist German Workers' Party (its German initials were N.S.D.A.P.), emerged with thirty-seven per cent of the in the Reichstag, the German parliament — substantially ahead of any of its rivals. In the normal course of events, this would have led the aging warrior Paul von Hindenburg, Germany's President, to appoint Hitler Chancellor. The equivalent of Prime Minister in other parliamentary systems, the Chancellor was meant to answer to his party, to the Reichstag, and to the President, who appointed him and who could remove him. Yet both Hindenburg and the sitting Chancellor, Franz von Papen, had been firm never-Hitler men, and naively entreated Hitler to recognize his own unsuitability for the role.
- The N.S.D.A.P. had been in existence since right after the Great War, as one of many volkisch, or populist, groups; its label, by including "national" and "socialist," was intended to appeal to both right-wing nationalists and left-wing socialists, who were thought to share a common enemy: the elite class of Jewish bankers who, they said, manipulated Germany behind the scenes and had been responsible for the German surrender. The Nazis, as they were called—a put- down made into a popular label, like "Impressionists"—began as one of many fringe and populist antisemitic groups in Germany, including the Thule Society, which was filled with bizarre pre-QAnon conspiracy adepts. Hitler, an Austrian corporal with a toothbrush mustache (when Charlie Chaplin first saw him in newsreels, he assumed Hitler was aping his Little Tramp character), had seized control of the Party in 1921. Then a failed attempt at a putsch in Munich, in 1923, left him in prison, but with many comforts, much respect, and paper and time with which to write his memoir, "Mein Kampf." He reemerged as the leader of all the nationalists fighting for election, with an accompanying paramilitary organization, the Sturmabteilung (S.A.), under the direction of the more or less openly homosexual Ernst Rohm, and a press office, under the direction of Joseph Goebbels. (In the American style, the press office recognized the political significance of the era's new technology and social media, exploiting sound recordings, newsreels, and radio, and even having Hitler campaign by airplane.) Hitler's plans were deliberately ambiguous, but his purposes were not. Ever since his unsuccessful putsch in Munich, he had, Ryback writes, "been driven by a single ambition: to destroy the political system that he held responsible for
- Ryback skips past the underlying mechanics of the July, 1932, election on the way to his real subject—Hitler's manipulation of the conservative politicians and tycoons who thought that they were manipulating him—but there's a notable academic literature on what actually happened when Germans voted that summer. The political "normal" one, in the sense that the behavior of groups and subgroups proceeded in the usual way, responding more to the perception of political interests than to some convulsions of apocalyptic feeling.
- The popular picture of the decline of the Weimar Republic—in which hyperinflation produced mass unemployment, which produced an unstoppable wave of fascism—is far from the truth. The hyperinflation had ended in 1923, and the period right afterward, in the mid-twenties, was, in Germany as elsewhere, golden. The financial crash of 1929 certainly energized the parties of the far left and the far right. Still, the results of the July, 1932, election weren't obviously catastrophic. The Nazis came out as the largest single party, but both Hitler and Goebbels were bitterly disappointed by their standing. The unemployed actually opposed Hitler and voted en masse for the parties of the left. Hitler won the support of self- employed people, who were in decent economic shape but felt that their lives and livelihoods were threatened; of rural Protestant voters; and of domestic workers (still a sizable group), perhaps because they felt unsafe outside a rigid hierarchy. What was once called the petite bourgeoisie, then, was key to his support—not people feeling the brunt of economic precarity but people feeling the possibility of it. Having nothing to fear but fear itself is having something significant to fear.
- It was indeed a "normal" election in that respect, responding not least to the outburst of "normal" politics with which Hitler had littered his program: he had, in the months beforehand, damped down his usual ranting about Jews and bankers and moneyed elites and the rest. He had recorded a widely distributed phonograph album (the era's equivalent of a podcast) designed to make him seem, well, Chancellor-ish. He emphasized agricultural support and a return to better times, aiming, as Ryback writes, "to bridge divides of class and conscience, socialism and nationalism." By the strange alchemy of demagoguery, a brief visit to the surface of sanity annulled years and years of crazy.
- The Germans were voting, in the absent-minded way of democratic voters everywhere, for easy reassurances, for stability, with classes siding against their historical enemies. They weren't wild-eyed nationalists voting for a millennial authoritarian regime that would rule forever and restore Germany to glory, and, certainly, they weren't voting for an apocalyptic nightmare that would leave tens of millions of people dead and the cities of Germany destroyed. They were voting for specific programs that they thought would benefit them, and for a year's insurance against the people they feared.
- Ryback spends most of his time with two pillars of respectable conservative Germany, General Kurt von Schleicher and the right-wing media magnate Alfred Hugenberg. Utterly contemptuous of Hitler as a lazy buffoon—he didn't wake up until eleven most mornings and spent much of his time watching and talking about movies—the two men still hated the Communists and even the center-left Social Democrats more than they did anyone on the right, and they spent most of 1932 and 1933 scheming to use Hitler as a stalking horse for their own ambitions.
- Schleicher is perhaps first among Ryback's too-clever-for-their-own- good villains, and the book presents a piercingly novelistic picture of him. Though in some ways a classic Prussian militarist, Schleicher, like so many of the German upper classes, was also a cultivated and diarist Bella Fromm called "a man of almost irresistible charm." He was a character out of a Jean Renoir film, the regretful Junker caught in modern times. He had no illusions about Hitler ("What am I to do with that psychopath?" he said after hearing about his behavior), but, infinitely ambitious, he thought that Hitler's call for strongman rule might awaken the German people to the need for a real strongman, i.e., Schleicher. Ryback tells us that Schleicher had a strategy he dubbed the Zahmungsprozess, or "taming process," which was meant to sideline the radicals of the Nazi Party and bring the movement into mainstream politics. He publicly commended Hitler as a "modest, orderly man who only wants what is best" and who would follow the rule of law. He praised Hitler's paramilitary troops, too, defending them against press reports of street violence. In fact, as Ryback explains, the game plan was to have the Brown Shirts crush the forces of the left—and then to have the regular German Army crush the Brown Shirts.
- Schleicher imagined himself a master manipulator of men and causes. He liked to play with a menagerie of glass animal figurines on his desk, leaving the impression that lesser beings were mere toys to be handled. In June of 1932, he prevailed on Hindenburg to give the Chancellorship to Papen, a weak politician widely viewed as Schleicher's puppet; Papen, in turn, installed Schleicher as minister of defense. Then they dissolved the Reichstag and held those July elections which, predictably, gave the Nazis a big boost.
- Ryback spends many mordant pages tracking Schleicher's whirling dervish intrigues, as he tried to realize his fantasy of the Zahmungsprozess. Many of these involved schemes shared with the patriotic and staunchly anti-Nazi General Kurt von Hammerstein-Equord (familiar to viewers of "Babylon Berlin" as Major General Seegers). Hammerstein was one of the few German officers to fully grasp Hitler's real nature. At a meeting with Hitler in the spring of 1932, Hammerstein told him bluntly, "Herr Hitler, if you achieve power legally, that would be fine with me. If the circumstances are different, I will use arms." He later felt reassured when Hindenburg intimated that, if the Nazi paramilitary troops acted, he could order the Army to fire on them.
- Yet Hammerstein remained impotent. At various moments, Schleicher, as the minister of defense, entertained what was in effect a plan for imposing martial law with himself in charge and Hammerstein at his side. In retrospect, it was the last hope of protecting the republic from Hitler—but after President Hindenburg rejected it, not out of democratic misgivings but out of suspicion of Schleicher's purposes, Hammerstein, an essentially tragic figure, was unable to act alone. He suffered from a malady found among decent military men suddenly thrust into positions of political power: his scruples were at odds with his habits of deference to hierarchy. Generals became generals by learning to take orders before they learned how to give them. Hammerstein hated Hitler, but he waited for someone else of impeccable authority to give a clear direction before he would act. (He went on waiting right through the war, as part of the equally impotent military nexus that wanted Hitler dead but, until it was too late, lacked the will to kill him.)
- The extra-parliamentary actions that were fleetingly contemplated in the months after the election—a war in the streets, or, more likely, a civil confrontation leading to a military coup—seemed horrific. The trouble, unknowable to the people of the time, is that, since what did would have been less horrific. One wants to shout to Hammerstein and his cohorts, Go ahead, take over the government! Arrest Hitler and his henchmen, rule for a few years, and then try again. It won't be as bad as what happens next. But, of course, they cannot hear us.
- They couldn't have heard us then.
- Ryback's gift for detail joins with a nice feeling for the black comedy of the period. He makes much sport of the attempts by foreign journalists resident in Germany, particularly the New York Times' Frederick T. Birchall, to normalize the Nazi ascent—with Birchall continually assuring his readers that Hitler, an out-of-his- depth simpleton, was not the threat he seemed to be, and that the other conservatives were far more potent in their political maneuvering. When Papen made a speech denying that Hitler's paramilitary forces represented "the German nation," Birchall wrote that the speech "contained dynamite enough to change completely the political situation in the Reich." On another occasion, Birchall wrote that "the Hitlerites" were deluded to think they "hold the best cards"; there was every reason to think that "the big cards, the ones that will really decide the game," were in the hands of people such as Papen, Hindenburg, and, "above all," Schleicher. Ryback, focussing on the self-entrapped German conservatives, generally avoids the question that seems most obvious to a contemporary reader: Why was a coalition between the moderate¬ left Social Democrats and the conservative but far from Nazified Catholic Centrists never even seriously attempted? Given that Hitler had repeatedly vowed to use the democratic process in order to destroy democracy, why did the people committed to democracy let him do it?
- Many historians have jousted with this question, but perhaps the most piercing account remains an early one, written less than a decade after the war by the emigre German scholar Lewis Edinger, who had known the leaders of the Social Democrats well and consulted them directly — the ones who had survived, that is — for his study. His conclusion was that they simply "trusted that constitutional processes and the return of reason and fair play would assure the survival of the Weimar Republic and its chief supporters." The Social Democratic leadership had become a gerontocracy, out of touch with the generational changes beneath them. The top Social Democratic leaders were, on average, two decades older than their Nazi counterparts.
Paper Comment
In-Page Footnotes ("Gopnik (Adam) - The Forgotten History of Hitler’s Establishment Enablers")
Footnote 1:
- At least I think it’s the full text, though – from my perspective – it has now disappeared behind a paywall.
- It seems to end rather abruptly, and doesn’t have any explicit comparison with Trump, which is surely its intention.
- I’ve read fairly widely – though a long time ago – about the rise of the Third Reich, but have tended to rush on to the exciting parts once Hitler was in power.
- I’m not impressed by comparisons between Hitler and modern demagogues such as Trump or Putin.
"Ryback (Timoth W.) - Takeover"
Source: Ryback (Timoth W.) - Takeover
Text Colour Conventions (see disclaimer)- Blue: Text by me; © Theo Todman, 2025
- Mauve: Text by correspondent(s) or other author(s); © the author(s)