General

How war dehumanises everyone it touches


By Paul Tritschler, OpenDemocracy, 19 October 2016. On a recent visit to one of my favourite haunts in
London, Gloucester Books, I flicked through the secondhand paperbacks and old
magazines that were fading in the sun. The leading article in a National Geographic Magazine commemorated
the crews of the US Eighth Army Air Force for their forbearance and sacrifice
during WW2. Nothing unusual in that, but the honour extended to their bombing
raids over German cities. The story focused mainly on the former pilots and had
photos of young men running towards their planes, waves and smiles as they
climbed in, each touching for luck an illustration painted on the side of some
forties’ pin-up girl with red lips.

 

Dresden, WWII (Image by Richard Peter, ssourced by
Deutsche Fotothek forWikimedia Commons)
All acts of mass murder are
crimes against humanity, and require a gross debasing of other people.
The men, who were now grey-haired, appeared kind and
benevolent, all the more so through their understandably emotional reunion. The
editorial, too, was kind. It claimed that German civilians were regrettably but
justifiably killed during ‘surgical’ bombing raids owing to legitimate enemy
targets being situated near built-up residential areas. It sounded familiar,
and sadly all too recent. I dropped the magazine into the pile in disgust.
I thought about the Lancaster bombers thundering
through the night sky, wave after wave disgorging an evil alchemy over hundreds
of thousands of civilians—the elderly unable to run, the children clutching
toys, all bursting into flames. And I thought about the campaign of
dehumanisation that continued into the last days of the war that portrayed all
our enemies, and even their children, as less than human.
This campaign was hardly subtle, with the enemy
depicted as bugs. Magazines carried cartoons showing Italians, Germans and Japanese as part cockroach,
and prior to the mass incendiary bombing of Japanese cities, the US Marines’
magazine Leatherneck displayed
a cartoon of a half-human, half-insect creature entitled Louseous
Japanicas 
to accompany an article that called for “enemy breeding
grounds to be completely annihilated.”
In the month following the article—March
1945—seemingly endless waves of B-29s roared across Tokyo, dropping one million
bombs containing 2,000 tons of incendiaries. In under three hours, over 100,000
people lay dead and one million were homeless. The firebombing of 67 cities over the following five
months resulted in the further deaths of at least half a million people—a
deliberate policy of wiping out civilians living in the densely populated
poorer districts. With no remorse, US Air Force General
Curtis LeMay
 openly declared, “They were scorched and boiled
and baked to death.” Although it didn’t dampen their enthusiasm, bomber crews
said that the stench of burning flesh rose high into the air, forcing them to
use oxygen masks to keep from vomiting. At the end of that five month period
came atomic destruction.
The writer Kurt
Vonnegut
—an eyewitness to the Dresden raid and deeply troubled
throughout his life by what he described as ‘the greatest massacre in European
history’—said that from what he had picked up the USAAF did not enjoy bombing
German towns, unlike their British counterparts who saw some sport in it.
Nonetheless, they carried out the raids, and far from attempting to
‘precision-bomb’ military targets the Americans played a key part in RAF Bomber
Command’s drive to terrorise populations by round-the-clock bombing.
Over 1200 Allied bombers dropped more than
3,000 tons of incendiaries over Dresden, a thousand tons more than were dropped
in the Tokyo raids in the following month. The official line was that the war
would be cut short by demoralising the enemy, achieved by firebombing civilians
and destroying their entire socio-cultural life: hospitals, libraries,
universities, houses and schools. Whilst some influential figures such as
George Orwell called for the bombings to continue, many in Britain empathised
with the German civilians and protested, including the people of heavily bombed
Bethnal Green: it didn’t work in the Great War, it didn’t work in the London
Blitz, so why would it work now? The bombing continued regardless.
Hamburg, described as Germany’s Hiroshima where more people
were killed in one night in July 1943 than in the whole of the London Blitz,
was bombed a total of 69 times before the end of the war.
The allies stepped up the level of bombing after the war was as good as won,
with a thousand planes at a time flying over towns. Over a million bombs were
dropped on Germany in the final months of the war, and the intensity continued
even into the last weeks. Many of the bombing raids were conducted on towns
with high cultural but low military significance, including small cathedral and
university towns such as Freiburg. Some indication of the ferocity of the
attacks is given by the writer A.C. Grayling:
“Phosphorous, magnesium and thickened or gelled
petroleum (the best example of which is ‘napalm’, invented at Harvard
University in 1942 and used by the USAAF in Japan later in the war) were almost
impossible to extinguish, splashing viscously and adhesively over buildings and
people like lava, and burning at ferocious temperatures. People who leaped into
canals when splashed with burning phosphorous found to their horror that it
would spontaneously reignite when they got out of the water. Among the
incendiaries were scattered 2-kilogram ‘X’ bombs with a delayed fuse, designed
to explode later when fire-fighters and other emergency workers had arrived on
the scene.”
Cities were reduced to kindling by dropping thousands
of ‘Blockbusters’ on entire residential districts—bombs that blasted whole
blocks apart and tore the roofs from buildings so that the high intensity
incendiary devices that followed could reach their interiors, including
basement shelters. The idea was to engulf the city in a hurricane of fire.
Among the fallen ruins families were found huddled together in the centre of
rooms with their arms around each other, making their last stand. It appeared
as though they were made of wax. The asphalt in the city streets caught fire,
and large areas were deprived of oxygen by the firestorms that raged at one
hundred and fifty miles per hour, leaving civilians the option of suffocating
in their cellars or trying to make a run for it—which meant running through the
equivalent of an open air blast furnace to almost certain death.
Eyewitnesses spoke of adults cremated to the size of
small dolls, of arms and legs everywhere, of whole families burnt to death, and
of people on fire running from burned coaches that were filled with civilian
refugees and dead rescuers. The rapidly rising hot air above the bombed areas
caused cold air to rush in, drawing people into the escalating tornado.
Survivors reported people who dropped on the spot from lack of oxygen, like a
device unplugged; others were seen to be hysterical, dragging off their clothes
as they burst into flames, and everywhere people were helplessly, and what must
have seemed inexplicably, pulled backwards and upwards into the raging fire winds.
One spoke of her mother’s bid to get her family to
safety. In the race against the firestorm she lost her older sister and baby
twins. Like many others, they looked for them in vain, and spent the last hours
of the night in a hospital cellar among people who lay dying in agony. They went
back to the tenement house the next day, but everyone was dead. There were so
many dead in the cities that disease was the next major threat, resulting in
thousands of bodies being heaped together and set ablaze. Was this what
Churchill had in mind when he called for an “exterminating attack” on Germany?
The historian Max
Hastings
 has stated that these bombing missions could not be
regarded as war crimes, for ultimately they were aimed at bringing about
Germany’s military defeat, and as such the deeds had no moral equivalence with
the crimes of the Nazis. But aren’t all acts of mass murder equivalent?
Grayling thinks so: he maintains that the British air force was engaged in the
deliberate and merciless mass murder of German civilians on a devastating
scale—with as many people killed by bombing as British men killed altogether in
the First World War. Moreover, he contends that such men obeyed orders and are
therefore as morally guilty as those who issued them.
This was not an isolated instance. The bombers
returned to repeat the procedure, much to the bewilderment of the remaining
population who were making their way out of the city with their belongings,
such as they were. In his book On the Natural History of Destruction,
W.G. Sebald gives an account of a homeless woman whose suitcase sprang open in
the street. The only contents that dropped out were the bones of her dead
child. A review in The Guardian of Sebald’s book described the
woman as deranged, but it seems to me entirely sane to carry the bones of your
children with you until a suitable place for burial can be found—a place where
you might visit them later on.
Dehumanisation—the process of debasing one’s perceived
enemy—is not the preserve of evil people: humiliation, alienation,
non-recognition, exclusion, the indiscriminate slaughter of civilians, and even
campaigns of genocide, all fall well within the realm of possibility for the
majority of human beings. There are many examples since WW2 of dehumanization
at the extreme: Vietnam, Indonesia, Rwanda, Sudan, Iraq, Palestine, Libya,
Somalia, Afghanistan and Syria, where populations have also been described as
less than human, and where civilians have been killed as a result of so-called
‘precision bombing’ or drowned in their attempts to flee from war and
persecution.
The treatment of other people as lesser beings has
been the subject of research within the field of social psychology for over
half a century, but whilst this work helps to explain the proclivities of our
darker side, the solution to dehumanization, and ultimately annihilation, lies
within the broader context of history, politics, philosophy and social
activism—in struggles for emancipation from oppression or dehumanization in all
its forms.
Whilst it is the dominant order for many people,
dehumanisation is not a historical necessity but a distortion. For radical
educator and social activist Paulo Freire, humanization is the natural
order. Freire was keen to point out that, in an effort to restore their
humanity, oppressed groups who have been treated as less than human tend to
struggle against their oppressors. But given the available role models the
danger is that oppression will simply be practiced in reverse. The real task,
he argues, is for the oppressed to liberate not just themselves but their
oppressors, and thereby recover the humanity of both. This sounds a bit like
learning to love your enemy, which has always been a good place to start.