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Christopher R. BrowningA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
Distance is a key motif throughout the book, representing not simply the physical distance between killer and victim but also the psychological distance between the men and the brutal reality of their actions. The extermination camps are created specifically to address this understanding, using distance and “assembly-line procedures” (50) to make murder “less burdensome psychologically for the killers” (49). When the men of Battalion 101 are assigned to work on the deportations to these camps, they are able to maintain a psychological distance from their victims by way of physical distance from the actual murders. They are aware that “deportations mean the path of death,” but because they are spared “direct participation in the killing,” they are not “disturbed by this awareness” (90). Indeed, their “sense of detachment from the fate of the Jews they [deport] [is] unshakable” (127) as, for them, “[o]ut of sight [is] truly out of mind” (90).
However, there are points where the extermination camps are not viable options and “mass execution through firing squad [is] the available alternative” (54). In these moments, the men are “not desk murderers who [can] take refuge in distance, routine, and bureaucratic euphemisms that [veil] the reality of mass murder” but instead must see “their victims face to face” (36). Browning highlights this idea that the men seeing “their victims face to face” means that “the killing is personal” (127) several times, emphasizing the fact that when “each policeman once again face[s] the individual Jew he [is] to shoot” (99), they are left with nowhere to hide from their own actions and no way to deny that they are murderers. It is only when the Hiwis take over the majority of the killing that the men are again able to distance themselves from the reality that they are complicit in mass murder. They readily embrace the fact that, through this, the “personal tie between victim and killed [is] severed” so they have “little if any sense of participation in the killing” (85) thanks to “the desensitizing effects of division of labor” (163).
Alcohol provides another form of psychological distance for the men. After the first massacre, the men respond to the fact that they are “depressed, angered, embittered, and shaken” by drinking “heavily” (69) to block out the memories of what they have done. This is actually encouraged by commanding officers, who recognize the psychological burden of mass murder. An early set of orders contains the directive that “impressions of the day are to be blotted out through the holding of social events in the evenings” (14), while on several occasions the men are “given special rations of alcohol” (100) to help numb them to the reality of mass murder. As a result, an “increasing dependence on alcohol [is] not unusual in the battalion” (82) as many come to rely on its anesthetizing effects. One policeman who does not drink makes this observation quite explicitly, noting that his “comrades [drink] so much solely because of the many shootings of Jews, for such a life [is] quite intolerable sober” (82). For those who have to do “the worst of the on-the-spot ‘dirty work’” (77), alcohol is even more important and the Hiwis are “not just liquored up after the event to help them forget but drunk from the start” (85), only stopping shooting when they fall “into a drunken stupor” (83).
The idea of sickness is often used to represent the “psychological burden” (25) of mass murder. The first indication of this is a brief, early discussion of SS Commander Bach-Zelewski who suffers from an “incapacitating illness” and “especially from visions in connection with the shootings of Jews that he himself had led” (25). However, the most sustained example of this comes in the discussion of “The Strange Health of Captain Hoffman” (114). Hoffman develops “diarrhea and severe stomach cramps” (117) that prevent him from attending many of his company’s actions. These appear to be “the symptoms of psychologically induced ‘irritable colon’ or ‘adaptive colitis’” (120), suggesting that his illness is actually a manifestation of trauma around the mass murders the battalion carry out. Although Hoffman will himself use this explanation as part of his testimony and defense, finding it “convenient to trace his illness to the psychological stress of the Józefów massacre” (117), he initially blames it on a reaction to a dysentery vaccine. Indeed, he actually makes “every effort to hide it from his superiors” (120). This shows us something significant about the motif: during the time of the shootings, many see it as unacceptable to express negative views of their orders, with even latent negativity manifesting as psychosomatic illness. Instead, such illness has to be hidden or else explained away as unrelated to stress. Indeed, for Hoffman, his sickness is a weakness that he is “deeply ashamed of and [seeks] to overcome to the best of his ability” (120).
Hoffman is by no means the only man to view negative responses to the murder of Jews as a weakness. The men frequently frame a “failure” to shoot in these terms, blaming a “very weak nature” (66) for not shooting, or going ahead with the shooting because to step out would be “admitting that one was ‘too weak’ or ‘cowardly’” (72). They also emphasize it to ensure that they do not appear to be criticizing their fellows by refusing to shoot. Fearing that their refusal will be “seen as a form of moral reproach of one’s comrades,” or as suggesting that “the nonshooter […] was ‘too good’ to do such things,” they frequently plead “not that they were ‘too good’ but rather that they were ‘too weak’ to kill” (185). This helps to reinforce the idea within the unit that not wanting to kill Jews is a failing or a weakness. However, Browning actually uses the motif of weakness in a different way, highlighting the fact that the true weakness is conforming to social pressure to do something truly terrible despite finding it appalling and immoral. Pointing to a policeman who will later admit that he took part in the shooting precisely because he “was cowardly,” Browning suggests that this man is “more aware of what truly required courage” (72) and so subverts the understanding of “weakness” that prevailed in Battalion 101.
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