Recruiting Schacht: The Spark of Political Warfare
The political campaign kicked off with the recruitment of Hjalmar Schacht. Ernst Hanfstaengl had indeed handled money in his days of financial dealings, which gave him ties to Hjalmar Schacht, the president of the Reichsbank. Thanks to him, Hanfstaengl bridged the gap between me and Schacht. And under the guise of "discussing retaliatory policies against the German-Polish trade war," I managed to bring him right to me.
To sum up my first impression of Hjalmar Schacht: he was far more emotional than I'd expected. He looked like a calm gentleman on the outside, but the moment he opened his mouth, feelings came bursting out—this peculiar man.
"At last, I meet someone who understands me. Germany must pressure Poland from all sides so they can never rise again. Poland's already reeling from the war with the Soviets—what can they possibly do if we come down hard?"
Schacht was also a staunch anti-Poland hardliner. He took an extremely tough stance in this German-Polish trade war, and I had no choice but to nod in agreement. In truth, the conflict between Poland and Germany had been stoked by the victorious France and Britain, so Poland was a bit pitiable... But I was a politician, after all. I had to exploit this anti-Poland sentiment.
"I fully agree with you, Mr. Schacht. Right now, we need bipartisan cooperation more than ever to squeeze Poland. But unfortunately, the German government is incompetent, and politics is fractured."
I agreed with his view while laying bare the grim reality. Schacht adjusted his glasses.
"How can we forge that bipartisan cooperation?"
"If one party dominates overwhelmingly."
"But if one party shatters the balance of power, the others will form a coalition against it. Is that alright?"
"Exactly."
I clapped as soon as Hjalmar Schacht finished speaking. A single party's overwhelming strength breeds coalitions among the rest. It was the iron rule of an age of warlords. The alliance between Wu and Shu against the mighty Wei. Goguryeo's power prompting the Tang Dynasty and Silla to ally against it. Those were prime examples. And if you played it right, you could shape the board however you wanted. Flip the table. By funneling power to a specific party, in reverse.
"Let's be frank. Haven't you ever thought the German Social Democratic Party is the problem? They're joined at the hip with the German Center Party, effectively monopolizing German politics. But we need to sever that link. How do we turn the Center Party against the SPD?"
"I'm here today to discuss trade between Poland and Germany. I don't quite follow what the leader of Falkenrain is saying."
"No. You need to understand. Who blocked your path? Who tried to steal credit during the Rentenmark reform? Who's the main culprit behind Germany's wrecked economy? Who can't even raise their voice against Poland and spouts soft nonsense about improving relations?"
"..."
Schacht nodded quietly at my questions and spoke. The German Social Democratic Party. In fact, the SPD—short for Social Democratic Party of Germany—was remarkably sensible even from a modern perspective. When diplomatic issues arose, they'd compromise moderately for a smooth resolution. When economic troubles hit, they'd follow historical precedents to the letter. When Versailles reparations were deferred, they printed money. That sparked hyperinflation, but on a national scale, it was utterly rational. The Dawes Plan, the Rentenmark reform—they dragged dying Germany back from the brink, and in diplomacy too, the SPD played a key role. During the Ruhr occupation, they appeared weak publicly but supported Ruhr citizens behind the scenes, resisting France passively. They just lacked the power for open confrontation. Perfectly sensible. If the era had been sensible.
In an irrational time, common sense becomes the abnormality. In the land of one-eyed Cyclopes, the two-eyed man is the freak. That was the SPD. They were the rational party in an irrational era. But from the start, the German people didn't care for common sense. They craved extremes, the bold and fiery. They'd suffered too much...
"Without the SPD, your financial policies and reforms would have massive backing, Schacht. Let me ask: is your ultimate goal Poland's destruction? Or Germany's victory?"
"Not a tough question. Naturally, Germany's victory. Poland's just a step to climb—not worth burning everything down to punish."
"Precisely. You're a man I can talk to. Then let me ask again: do we need a bipartisan coalition to punish Poland?"
"Didn't you just bring it up? Sure, bipartisan support for policy decisions would let us skip steps— it'd help."
"Good. Then, if we can create that bipartisan coalition by eliminating the SPD... No—for Germany's future, are you prepared to sacrifice one party?"
By now, a sharp mind like Hjalmar Schacht would've grasped what I was driving at. Tie the SPD to Poland. Make the German people loathe them. How? By making them the strongest power, ironically. To illustrate with modern Korea: lots of people hate China. Now make the pro-China party the dominant force. People get pissed, and the furious masses strip their power. The situation flips in an instant. That was my scenario. Pump power into them, and you force a bipartisan coalition. Korea's two-party system wouldn't work, but Germany's patchwork of warlords? Perfect.
I'd recruited Hjalmar Schacht. He agreed to back the DDRAP for a while and to politically hammer the SPD alongside us. Regrettably, I couldn't make him a full party member. But this was enough.
The next phase was newspaper operations. The "Berlin New Germany Newspaper." Max Amann had set it up on my orders. The goal: undermine the credibility of all other papers except ours. I weaponized information overload. I churned out plausible political scandals and fake news en masse, seeding them to rival outlets. Some inquired about the sources; others played it safe without fact-checks. But sensational stories sell. Soon, papers were pumping out clickbait, plastering unverified or absurd tales on front pages.
But that wasn't the end.
"My Führer, some papers are upholding journalistic integrity. In fact, quite a few aren't biting on the fake news."
"They have a sense of mission. They won't snap at every juicy tidbit. The ones that did? They're done."
Papers didn't fold easily. So Plan B activated. I spawned dozens—no, hundreds—of new outlets in Germany. Their names mimicked Berlin's majors with sly twists. If there was "Berlin Central Newspaper," I rolled out "New Berlin Central," "Berlin Central Square News," wordplay like that. Then I copied layouts, fonts, styles wholesale. Filled them with unverified sensationalism, and blanketed Berlin. The masses barely noticed the subtle title tweaks. Some fakes even slipped between real issues or bundled to look identical, injecting disinformation straight into the public.
Mostly, fake news framing the SPD as the "pro-Poland party" flooded Berlin streets. That was Plan B.
"Plan C's ready too..."
I sucked my thumb, a tad disappointed we wouldn't need it. Plan C: buy them off with cash, then leak it to shatter their credibility—a self-destruct via whistleblower. We'd set up paper companies as kamikazes for profit anyway, but no need to execute. Too messy; tails could lead to investigations... Risk management fell to Max Amann; Goebbels handled the fake news agitation. They synced like battle-hardened comrades. Rudolf Hess and Hanfstaengl managed the paper companies; I threw Krichz on security. In a flash, fakes spread beyond Berlin to parts of Brandenburg.
In mere months, the SPD was branded "pro-Poland." And it wasn't entirely false—they were relatively conciliatory toward Poland. That "relative" meant retaliation within reason, not quite "pro-Poland." But compared to hardliners, their moderation let the frame stick easily.
Time was short, though. No internet era; fully framing the SPD would take ages.
"Provide fake papers free to subscribers of established local dailies. Like a long-term sub perk."
I even hijacked legacy papers' trust. Thus, the DDRAP hounded the SPD with dirty tricks. No bipartisan coalition yet, but the board was setting. Now it was time for party brass to step up—my cue next.