The Rose of the Ruhr Stabs the Heart of Parliament
From the next day onward, the Communist Party’s official newspaper, the Red Flag, was filled with stories about me.
After my meeting with Thälmann, the Red Flag—once solely the Communist Party paper—now served as the official organ of the Labor Party as well. My closing remarks during the inauguration speech, which had been broadcast live over the radio, appeared to have landed perfectly. For real. It had gone far better than I expected; every worry I had carried that day simply melted away.
That morning, when I paused at the newspaper kiosks outside Frankfurt Station, the crowd was noticeably thicker than usual.
“Prime Minister, are the lives of workers merely numbers in your ledger? Let the cabinet that starves the people to fatten capitalists hear this: we are not interchangeable parts in a machine!”
The papers had printed my words almost verbatim. They even added praise from several left-wing voices—“It is like witnessing the reincarnation of Rosa Luxemburg” and “a genuine tribune of the proletariat, unlike the empty-talking Social Democrats.” The bonus was welcome.
Thälmann had insisted that if they were going to run a feature on me, they must include the “once a man…” detail. In the end it was cut. Understandable; it would not have helped the propaganda.
In truth, the passage had been used only as a counterpoint when discussing the drawbacks of Brüning’s austerity program. I was not sure how much promotional value it held, yet the fresh name “Labor Party”—distinct from the Communists, whom the middle and right already treated as enemies—might soften liberal resistance just a little.
Of course, that did not mean I intended to cozy up to parliamentary politics. The Labor Party’s goal remained the construction of a communist society through revolution.
“Comrade Heinz, thanks to your efforts the path we must follow has become far clearer.”
Before heading to the Reichstag, Thälmann gathered the members at the Frankfurt Communist Party headquarters—my temporary lodging until I secured proper housing.
“Until now the Communist Party has shouted revolution yet failed to win meaningful support from the lower middle class or the petty bourgeoisie. Your appearance as the Labor Party offers a genuine alternative.”
He set the newspaper down with a soft thud.
“Heinz, from now on draw in the Social Democratic voters and the center-left. Work for the liberation of the people and the creation of an equal, democratic society.”
“Understood. I will do my best.”
“We will maintain the Communist stance while preparing in earnest to become a party that encompasses the entire left wing. Perhaps we will see the results as early as the next election.”
“To speak coldly, this is a defeat for the Social Democratic Party.”
The Social Democratic Party offices had been thrown into turmoil after the chancellor’s inauguration.
“Five minutes. That is all it took for a young woman named Heinz from the Labor Party to seize values our party fought for over decades. In a mere five minutes the SPD lost any ground on which to defend itself. I can only lament.”
Arthur Crispien, veteran of the SPD and standard-bearer of its left wing, made no effort to hide his displeasure. The slogan the “child” Heinz had raised—“successor of Luxemburg”—struck him especially hard; he had once stood beside Rosa Luxemburg in the Spartacist League.
“Yes, I know Müller’s resignation means we cannot act recklessly. But do you truly wish the entire left wing of the party to defect to the revolutionary camp? We need action!”
“Calm yourself first, Deputy Crispien,” Hans Vogel interjected. Crispien sat again, fury still etched on his face.
More than a hundred members had gathered, yet none except Crispien dared speak.
“I never realized the SPD was this feeble. I begin to doubt whether this is the true socialism we once sought.”
“The Reichstag is Germany’s most public stage, Deputy. I understand your anger, however—”
“Precisely because it is public, the Social Democratic Party should have accepted Müller’s cabinet resignation with dignity and stood as the leading opposition against Brüning and the National Front’s tyranny. Instead, what did we show the nation today? Nothing but hesitation while that young Heinz snatched every word we should have spoken!”
“Crispien!” Otto Wels, seated behind him and co-leader of the SPD, finally raised his voice.
“I understand your anger. I am disappointed as well. But right now that anger helps neither you nor the party.”
“Wels! Are you saying we should navigate this crisis with silence? That we will not resist the National Front’s arbitrary policies?”
“That is not what I said, Crispien. What distinguishes the Social Democrats from the Communists? The difference between achieving goals through dialogue or through violence, is it not?”
Wels spoke calmly, trying to persuade him.
“She is dangerous, Crispien. German democracy must remain firm. Heinz may call herself Labor Party, yet she is in practice an ally of the Communists. We must not be seduced by her speech. As the leading opposition, our realistic duty is to guard the German people against such extremist views and negotiate with the Brüning government to soften the severity of austerity.”
Crispien answered without the slightest wavering.
“That is exactly why the Social Democrats cannot advance, Wels! While we stare at ‘reality,’ the socialism we claim to desire drifts farther away and our supporters flow toward the Communists and the Labor Party. The time has come to change the party line.”
“Impossible. If we alter our platform now, the last chance of a coalition with Brüning collapses.”
“You still dream of coalition with Brüning? That bridge has been burned.”
“Crispien! Will you walk the same road as the Communists after all?”
“Look at reality, not ideology! Clinging to moderation will destroy the Social Democratic Party.”
It was the moment the long-suppressed conflict between the SPD’s hardliners and moderates—quiet since the 1919 party split—reignited.
When I arrived at the Reichstag, an enormous crowd surrounded the parliament building. With the session beginning in earnest, every organization imaginable had come to make its voice heard.
“Chancellor, withdraw austerity at once! Introduce basic income and create jobs!”
Far more groups than the university students I had seen yesterday were chanting. Yes—this was the true “will of the people,” the voice the capitalists’ parliament tried so hard to ignore. I still could not fathom what confidence allowed the National Front to push austerity so stubbornly.
Those who called themselves democrats defended the economic dictatorship of the capitalist elite and the exploitation of workers while suppressing any attempt to place real power in the hands of the working class and the people.
“Government, listen to the people’s will immediately! End dictatorial politics! Abolish weighted suffrage and introduce universal suffrage!”
There was still time before the sitting began, so I stopped to speak with the demonstrators.
“We listened to your speech yesterday, Deputy Heinz. It was magnificent.”
“Speech? It was only a few words. Someone had to say them.”
“But you were the one who actually said them. You are the last hope for a crumbling German democracy.”
“Indeed. The centrist parties were elected because capitalist votes flooded to them. There are far too few seats for those who can truly represent the overwhelming majority of the people.”
“Only the left truly speaks for the people. In any case, we support you, Deputy!”
“Please keep fighting! Only when people like you raise the people’s voice directly can that voice be reflected even under this broken system.”
After exchanging a few more words with the protesters, I entered the parliament building. This was my second time attending the Reichstag… yet it still felt fresh.
The moment I stepped inside, the German National People’s Party benches erupted.
“Boo! Red! A Red! The Russian Bolsheviks’ puppet has arrived!”
“Young enough to think the world belongs to you? The world is cruel, little girl!”
Yeah, you pathetic virgins. I had no idea whether such a term existed in Germany at the time. Besides, even counting only this body, Emilia Heinz was twenty-four years old. Before that—though the memories had grown hazy—I had lived well past thirty.
“Here we go again. They are idle fools with nothing better to do. Ignore them, Heinz.”
Thälmann spoke as I walked toward the far-left benches through the uproar.
“Of course.”
“Did you enter politics by selling your body? You two seem awfully friendly!”
“But that son of a bitch…”
“Heinz! At least watch your language.”
“One moment, Thälmann.”
I was not angry. Not angry at all. My pride was not hurt. I had simply decided that trash talk deserved an answer in kind.
“How are your mother and wife these days~? Hm? Or are they busy amusing themselves with the servants in that fine mansion of yours?”
A mother-in-law jab is the ultimate weapon.
“That insane bitch…!”
“Order! This is the Imperial Parliament under the watchful eye of His Majesty Kaiser Karl I! Conduct yourselves properly and take your seats at once.”
Perfect timing. I saw no reason to treat the far right with civility—especially after they had opened with sexual slurs. Did these men really want to harass a woman who had once been a man?
The red-faced deputy who looked ready to leap from his seat and assault me sat down again, his expression twisted with rage at the chairman’s rebuke.
Heh. A chuckle escaped me before I could stop it.
The chairman continued, “You now stand as elected representatives of the German people, embodying the will of the nation under His Majesty Kaiser Karl I. You are here to deliberate and decide upon the affairs of Germany. Chancellor Brüning will begin. Those wishing to speak should request the floor.”
As I had felt the day before, the German parliament seemed both rigidly formal and strangely violent.
Brüning rose, took the microphone, and once again explained the guiding principles of the policy he had outlined yesterday.
“And…”
His gaze drifted slowly leftward.
“Today I would like to hear first from Deputy Emilia Heinz of the Labor Party. Would that be acceptable, Mr. Chairman?”