First They Came
First they came for the Communists
And I did not speak out
Because I was not a Communist
Then they came for the Socialists
And I did not speak out
Because I was not a Socialist
Then they came for the trade unionists
And I did not speak out
Because I was not a trade unionist
Then they came for the Jews
And I did not speak out
Because I was not a Jew
Then they came for me
And there was no one left
To speak out for me
– Pastor Martin Niemöller
You don’t have to be a Communist, Socialist, trade unionist, or Jew to understand the significance of this poem. Its author, Martin Niemöller (1892-1984), served as a pastor during the Nazi reign in World War II Germany. At first, he embraced the Nazi nationalistic approach to Christianity. However, upon reversing his stance about racist Nazi doctrine, he was sentenced to life in a concentration camp. After the war ended and he was rescued from imprisonment, Pastor Niemöller wrote “First They Came” and began speaking out against the horrific ideals of the regime he once idolized.
As a child, I became very familiar with Pastor Niemöller’s famous poem. In my Danish-American family, talk of “the war” didn’t refer to the Vietnam War or the Korean War. It referred to World War II. My parents, both in their mid-forties at the time I was born, grew up hearing stories about the war. My mother shared what she’d heard about the lives of the working class during World War II and encouraged me to read books about the Holocaust.
The poem “First They Came” is a riveting testimony to the universal human condition. It’s no secret that this poem warns against apathy as a tool of evil. Current events unfolding around the world right now bring me back to the World War II history lesson I wish we could all learn from. Similar to how Nazi Germany took over many countries in Europe during World War II, in modern day we are no strangers to news of illegal invasions and occupations (such as the situations in Venezuela, Gaza, and Ukraine).
Proverbs 21:13 tells us that “If you close your ear to the cry of the poor, you will cry out and not be heard” (NRSV). If we close our ears to the cries of the persecuted, what do you think will happen when we ourselves are persecuted?
In reading about the Holocaust, I wondered: How could this happen? How was it possible for millions of people to condone, or at least silently approve of, mass torture and genocide? How could a government believe they were justified in invading and occupying several countries? The answer is complex and extremely disheartening. Germany’s general populace feared for their safety, afraid to oppose an obsessively controlling and violent government. As I learned more about the Holocaust, I was astonished that somehow thousands of people bought into the propaganda claiming that minorities, from Jews to sexual minorities and free-thinking scholars, deserved incarceration and even death.
But the truth is that a multifaceted, years-long process of exposure to propaganda weaponized the populace’s desire to escape poverty, intensified their pre-existing prejudices, and warped their longing for a national identity into indoctrination that celebrated inhumane beliefs. Many Germans were desperate for pride in their country after experiencing a humiliating defeat in World War I and the consequences of post-war treaties imposed by other nations that caused widespread poverty. It seemed like the rest of the world was starting to thrive again while Germany was sitting in the rubble without foreign aid or a unified plan for the future. Germany was impoverished, desolate, and desperate. When people feel desperate, they are more likely to fall for schemes that they would otherwise question. To rally the majority population, the Nazi government set up minorities as scapegoats, uniting the masses against community members who were now branded a common enemy. The Nazi regime promised prosperity and the restoration of national pride as the supreme ethnicity above all others, two values they share with radical nationalists around the world today.
Sometimes the most meaningful quotes that reflect our world come from fictional universes, even ones not intended to comment on our specific location or era. I cannot help but be reminded of a line from the film “Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith”. A senator in the Galactic Republic laments as their democracy transforms into a dictatorship, enacted with the power of a single vote. She says to the lone colleague who also sees through the ruse: “So this is how liberty dies. With thunderous applause.” The story’s context in a galaxy far, far away is not necessarily a one-to-one match with our present reality, but the line itself is unfortunately rather relatable to residents of various nations today.
Familiarity with the weakening of freedoms does not end with fiction or our modern times. In the late 1930s and early 1940s, the new propaganda-fueled prejudices in Germany were not limited to the political sphere. Christians in Hitler’s Germany were persuaded into nationalist fervor at the expense of horrifying torture and death for their very own neighbors, the minorities who had lived peacefully among them. Many churches displayed swastikas and other government symbols in their sanctuaries. Any Christians who resisted the nationalist influence on Christianity were ridiculed and sometimes even arrested like Pastor Niemöller was. I believe that their suffering for virtuous Christian faith and their perseverance to live by the Gospel made them martyrs.
However, pledging allegiance to the Nazi regime (whether in earnest or with secret disapproval) did not free Christians from political scrutiny. Hitler’s paranoia meant that even his most loyal followers, leaders of the highest standing, could be thrown into jail on a whim. Being a devoted Nazi also did not necessarily provide an escape from poverty or social injustice. Throughout World War II and during its aftermath, people of all social classes and nationalities who sympathized with the Nazis learned an ominous lesson: Aligning with evil does not protect you from evil. Aligning with power does not guarantee you will be given power.
For those who were persecuted, such as the Jews, their cultural identities were twisted by the Nazi propaganda. Most Jews in Europe during World War II were not immigrants to their home countries. In a disgusting turn of events, the Nazi government branded them as evil foreigners who had invaded Germany and the Nazi-occupied territories. In defiance of the unwarranted attacks on minorities, I am reminded of the light the Bible sheds on situations like these.
Exodus 23:9 instructs that “You shall not oppress a resident alien; you know the heart of an alien, for you were aliens in the land of Egypt.” As foreigners in Egypt, our spiritual ancestors were themselves a minority. The predecessors whom we hold as forebearers within the Judeo-Christian tradition were persecuted for having a different culture and faith from the majority population. Similarly, Mark 12 reminds us that the commandment to “love your neighbor as yourself” is second only to loving God. The Bible shows us that in the present time, we must remember the Christian value of protecting ALL minorities.
In our daily lives, we cannot avoid hearing about the persecution of peoples due to faith, skin tone, culture or several other aspects that mark them as somehow different from the ruling class (groups including but not limited to Palestinians, the Rohingya in Myanmar, and Uyghurs in China). We all hear that extremely oppressive systemic persecution, even genocide, is happening in modern day. So, what are we doing about it?
Americans like to use the phrase “ignorance is bliss.” It’s intended as a warning, but sometimes I hear people use it as an excuse to validate choosing to be ignorant. They want happiness, and they think the phrase reveals the easy path to joy. However, willful ignorance can only produce temporary happiness. None of us want to feel pain. But pretending everything is good, that everything is still normal as it was before, is its own form of despair. It’s a coping mechanism that covers up pain but will eventually be torn off by the harsh grasp of reality. When controlling forces make us afraid, even fearing for our lives and safety of loved ones, that fear encourages denial. It’s a natural human response. But is that denial worth committing the sin of apathetic approval of injustice? Will you speak out? Or you could choose to believe the world is fine, all is well, and that bad news is fake news.
Waking up from ignorance, whether your ignorance was willful or not, is a sign of bravery and virtue. The apostle Paul himself is an example of someone who in zealous misguidance murdered people of minority beliefs—followers of Christ—and later repented, dedicating his life to the Gospel.
Be wary of indifference. As Pastor Niemöller’s poem warns, someday you could be branded an enemy by the very forces you pledged loyalty to. It’s easy to adopt the “Things like that don’t happen to me” attitude. But the reality is “things” can still happen to anyone. Regardless of your outlook, if misfortune comes your way, people of courage and empathy will try to help you…if they aren’t locked up already.
Aligning with evil can involve actively cheering on evil acts, or it can be as subtle as mumbling “Amen” to words promoting violence. But even if you stand on the sidelines and nod your head as others shout about taking down “the enemy,” you are not safe from oppression, and your ambivalence is not the same as morality.
And in the future, you may end up recalling the day that they came for you.
