I like Germans; I like Americans. I’m even quite fond of the English. But when I look at the reactions to the Lancet study on Iraqi deaths. I am reminded of a photograph reproduced in Tony Judt’s Postwar. A small boy, in a knitted sweater and shorts that come down to his knees, walks down a sandy heathland road. In the background are birch trees and a couple of pines. The boy has a pained, determined expression, and is looking away from the verge, where perhaps a hundred corpses have been laid down in rows. They are former inmates of Belsen, just up the road.
Judt’s caption says "Like most adult Germans in post-war years, he averts his gaze."
One of the surprises of this really excellent history has been just how little the Germans came to terms with Nazism. When I lived there, as a teenager, between 1969 and 1971, approx, all the Germans I knew at all well were of my own generation; and the man from whom we hired our house had survived captivity after Stalingrad, and so might be considered to have expiated his crimes and then some. But Judt is full of acid little notes about the extent to which the Germans were not, as we would now say, good. "In Bavaria in 1951, 94 percent of judges and prosecutors, 77 percent of finance ministry employees and 60 percent of civil servants in the Agriculture ministry were former Nazis … Of the newly constituted West German diplomatic service, 43 percent were former SS men, and another 17 percent had served in the SD or the Gestapo."
At about the same time, a poll found that 37% of Germans thought it would be better for Germany to have no Jews on its territory, and 25% of them had a good opinion of Hitler.
This doesn’t prove the unique depravity of Germans, only their depravity. It is very hard for countries, as for individuals, to admit wrongdoing sincerely; perhaps it is harder for countries: if a language is just a dialect with an army, a nation is a dialect with defence mechanisms. We may be fairly certain that the little boy in Judt’s picture didn’t himself kill any of the corpses by the roadside, any more than you or I killed anyone in Iraq.
But it does suggest that the reaction to the Lancet’s study will be, overwhelmingly, that of George W. Bush. We won’t find it credible, because to do so would make us accomplices in something entirely ghastly. For all the people saying they predicted this horror (and I have just gone back and looked at my own predictions) I don’t think many of us thought 600,000 excess deaths were a remotely credible result of the invasion. To give an idea of what 600,000 people means, suppose that half of the people who went on the last big anti-war demo in London had died since then, as a result … that feels entirely different, even to 600,000 foreigners (of course, proportionate to Britain’s population the number should be much higher. Suppose everyone who went on the anti-war marches had died since then. That would be about the death rate proportionately.)
I doubt that even convinced opponents of the war want to believe something that terrible has happened as a result of our actions, or inactions. I don’t know whether it is worse to think now that we could have done more to stop the war, or to reflect that we could do no more than we actually did. But if we opponents must look away as they pass the rows of corpses, why should we expect that supporters of the war should face the facts when they have so much more at stake.