Entering the Reichstag #2
The Chancellor’s voice boomed through the microphone far louder than when I had passed him earlier. Brüning sounded dry. And unbearably cold.
“We Germans stand at the center of an unprecedented storm that has swept the entire globe. This economic crisis that began in America has ravaged the New World and finally crossed into the Old. Our streets overflow with the unemployed, and the value of the mark continues to soar without any end in sight. In the midst of this crisis, we must make a decisive choice.”
For the moment, no one interrupted. Everyone simply listened.
“Germany requires austerity. We must restore the nation’s financial credit through cuts to the state budget, while encouraging investment from private enterprise and capital to revitalize the national economy. In the immediate term, this will mean difficult times—wage reductions, tax increases, and more. But this is the harsh, bitter medicine Germany must swallow if we are to move toward a better future.”
In a word, Brüning’s argument was simple. Hoard money in the state coffers to restore national credit, and foreign and domestic investors would no longer be afraid to put their capital into Germany. The economy would then recover on its own. It was a line of reasoning that hadn’t deviated one inch from the laissez-faire logic first proposed in the eighteenth century.
“We must regain the trust of the international community. Germany remains bound by the Treaty of Versailles and still bears responsibility for the great war that erupted sixteen years ago. It is time to fulfill that responsibility peacefully, to move forward together with the League of Nations—the very architect of world peace. Germany will prove that it is no longer the spark or the culprit of war, but a peaceful and responsible nation. We will grant tax benefits to entrepreneurs so they can restart their machines and revive the market. This is the only path by which we can defend German democracy against the threat of extremism and overcome the Great Depression.”
What absolute bullshit. Squeeze even more taxes out of the very citizens and workers who are the victims of this crisis, while handing tax cuts to the capitalist bastards who caused it?
“Bullshit.”
Oops. I’d slipped up. The curse I meant to keep inside had leaped out of my mouth. I quickly clapped a hand over my lips, but when I glanced around, it seemed there was no need.
“You would spare the fat capitalists and impose unreasonable taxes on the people?! And you still dare to shout about freedom!”
Ernst Thälmann, seated at the very front of the Communist seats, had turned beet-red and was bellowing at the top of his lungs. The other deputies rose as one, hurling jeers at Brüning.
“You bloodless creature! You vampire sucking the life from workers and the people! How dare you call yourselves human!”
Yeah, there was no way the Communists could ever have a proper conversation with people like these. Brüning openly ignored their denunciations, as if our voices were beneath his notice. The National People’s Party seated across from us was just as bad. In the back rows of their bloc—nearly twice the size of ours—bearded aristocrats stroked their whiskers with satisfied smirks, while those in the front rows raised their voices even louder.
“The League of Nations?! You mean to submit to that slave document from Versailles!”
A savage roar erupted.
“Those spineless Center Party dogs are trying to turn Germany into the West’s obedient lapdog! Germans, awaken now! Let us seize our rightful strength and territory!”
The man in the front row, wildly swinging his fists as he spat out his rage, caught my eye. That square mustache, those precise, militaristic gestures… they looked strangely familiar. Oh, right…
“Adolf Hitler…”
Yes, that was him! The guy who founded the Nazi Party! But why was he sitting with the National People’s Party…? Did they simply share the same conservative stripe? Come to think of it, I did remember hearing in my previous life that he was a born demagogue. He was famous enough, after all.
Hitler had risen from his seat and was jabbing his finger at Brüning, spewing nothing but inflammatory rhetoric. Meanwhile, I checked on the Social Democrats. They were openly showing their displeasure at Brüning’s speech, but they lacked the decisive force of either our Communists or the opposing National People’s Party. Probably because the collapse of the previous government had led to this very mess; they didn’t dare step forward too boldly. I could understand their guilt and sense of debt, but watching them shrink back and refuse to raise their voices behind such unreasonable statements made it hard to view them as proper leftists.
Once the shouting from both extremes had died down a little, Brüning concluded his speech.
“Germany must endure. For the sake of the future, we must temporarily sacrifice the present. Germany will rise again. That is all.”
The centrist National Front applauded vigorously, while the Social Democrats on the left offered only lukewarm clapping. Wait. If it ended like this… I had come all the way to Germany’s highest legislative body with the intention of achieving something…!
“J-just a moment! Mr. Speaker!”
Ah, screw it. I’d throw the dice and see what happened. Even if I embarrassed myself now, it was better than letting such absurd policies pass unchallenged and drive workers’ lives even deeper into the abyss.
“Emilia Heinz of the Labour Party. I request the floor.”
When I stood and raised my hand, the Speaker’s gaze turned in my direction. The chamber, which had been growing noisy again the moment Brüning stepped down from the podium, fell silent once more. All 576 pairs of eyes except my own were now fixed on the far-left edge of the hall.
“…Deputy Emilia Heinz of the Labour Party?”
The Speaker called my name. He stared at me for a moment, visibly flustered, then flipped open the parliamentary rulebook on his desk and said,
“…It is not customary to grant a first-term deputy the right to speak on the very day of the opening session, however—”
He exchanged a glance with the Chancellor before answering.
“The floor is granted to Deputy Heinz of the Labour Party. Please speak into the microphone at your seat.”
‘Heinz!’ I pretended not to hear Thälmann’s urgent whisper from below and rose from my seat, lifting the microphone. Chancellor Brüning had returned to the podium. Suppressing my pounding heart, I began.
“I listened carefully to the Chancellor’s vision and remarks for the future. However, there are a few points I would like to ask the Chancellor about, which is why I requested the floor. May I pose a few questions?”
Our eyes met—his gaze as frozen as ice.
“…You may ask your questions, Deputy Heinz.”
Good. No script, no prepared remarks, but I would do this anyway. I swallowed one last time.
“You described it as ‘harsh and bitter medicine,’ and you also said we must sacrifice the present for the sake of the future… Let me ask this plainly.”
Stay calm. Refute him point by point.
“Who exactly is swallowing that medicine? Is it the noble deputies seated here, tapping away at their calculators? Or is it the workers in the Ruhr coal mines who spend twelve hours a day breathing in coal dust while worrying about whether they can afford that day’s bread?”
I caught the slight tremor of confusion in Brüning’s eyes.
“You use the elegant word ‘austerity,’ but in the slums of Essen where I grew up, austerity simply means starvation. Countless factories have already closed because Western capital pulled out. My neighbors stand in line all day just to get the largest, softest piece of bread the government hands out. If even a single pfennig is cut from subsidies, children who already breathe in soot die without being able to buy a single packet of medicine. Do you understand that the neat little numbers written in your ledgers represent the difference between life and death for someone? Do you people measure human lives by numbers as well?”
“How dare you peddle emotion in the sacred Reichstag!” someone shouted from the National Front benches.
Oh please. Politics exists to help people survive—how is it strange that emotion should be involved?
“This is not emotion; this is reality! While you shake hands with the League of Nations and speak of peace, our workers lose fingers and shatter arms in factory machines, yet they cannot even cry out—because they fear being fired, because they fear being thrown onto the street for failing to pay rent!!!”
I had meant to stay rational, but as I spoke, something inside me surged up again.
“Exactly who is this ‘national economic revitalization’ the Chancellor speaks of meant to serve?! If the capitalists’ vaults and the state’s coffers are filled, will the bellies of ordinary citizens and workers somehow become full as well? How long do you intend to force this arrogant fantasy upon workers who must worry every single day about their next meal and their next job!”
I drew in a breath and continued.
“Human beings are not mere cogs in a machine. They are not disposable goods that can be reduced to numbers on a ledger! Humans are noble in and of themselves—their very existence proves their worth! The German Labour Party, and the people of Germany, reject the bitter medicine you seek to force upon us. Because we do not engage in politics to die—we engage in struggle in order to live!”
When I set the microphone down to signal that my statement was finished, a momentary silence fell over the chamber. Everyone seemed to be debating how they should react to me.
Then it exploded.
“Waaaaah! Heinz! Heinz!”
“Carry out politics for the people! Politics for the majority!”
“Long live the proletariat! Long live the people! Long live the revolution!”
Thunderous cheers erupted from the Communist benches. Even Thälmann, who had tried to stop me moments ago, now clenched his fist and roared in approval at how well I had done. Deputies who had sat quietly through Brüning’s own speech now rose as one, applauding. The chants of students and workers demonstrating outside poured in through the open windows. Since I had spoken into the microphone, every German citizen must have heard it clearly.
“Useless emotional leftists! Germany will only grow strong once we expel them!”
Hitler’s face had twisted in real time as he listened to my speech. Now he screamed with pure malice. Those fanatical eyes bored straight toward the left-wing side of the chamber where I sat. Of course. To a man like him, for whom everything came down to war, war, and more war, my words could never be received favorably.
Brüning, finally descending from the podium, stared at me with an unchanged expression amid the roaring chaos before walking away. It wasn’t recognition. It was the look one gave an enemy that had to be destroyed.
This was only the beginning.
“Everyone, calm down! This is the Reichstag! Lower your voices and return to your seats!”
The Speaker struggled to restore order to the overheated chamber. He probably wouldn’t give me the floor again anytime soon. That was fine. The Labour Party might consist of only me, but the Communists still held fifty-two seats. From my lone seat—adrift like an island in this vast parliament—I began to look forward to what would come next.