Sophie Scholl: Somebody had to make a start.
Let’s talk about Sophie Scholl. You’ve probably heard her name before, as she gets dragged out every time someone spots burgeoning tyranny in the mist. Or perhaps you’ve never heard of her, or The White Rose. Let me explain:
Sophia Magdalena Scholl was a young philosophy student in Munich in Nazi Germany. With her older brother Hans, a handful of their friends, and a professor, she helped distribute subversive “Leaflets of The White Rose” exhorting the German people to speak out and fight back against the Nazis. In February 1943, she and Hans were caught and executed by guillotine. Sophie was only 21 years old. Their entire story is fascinating and I strongly recommend reading about it.
It’s easy to understand why the story of The White Rose captures our imaginations, especially in times of social strife: it’s the romantic tale of brave, doomed young idealists who fought back against the greatest evil modern man has known. But it’s a story I often find twisted to suit the needs of a propagandist, and this is a great shame because the truth has so much more to teach us than the sensationalized version.
One of the main goals of Sophie’s interrogator was to discover her motives, or rather to get her to confess that she had no idea what she was doing and had been coerced by her brother and his friends into treason. In the decades since her death, a number of biographers have also tried to divine what motivated this girl to do what almost no one else in Germany would. On the surface, it can seem hard to explain: she didn’t come from a very political family. Except for a few (fairly typical, unfortunately) family members spending days in Gestapo custody on occasion, she was not a target of Nazi aggression. She came from a large and loving family and lived fairly comfortably for most of her childhood. Sophie had been a part of required Nazi indoctrination programs from a young age, and her brothers and friends were soldiers. She showed no rebellious streak and was actually quite shy, except in her letters. An intelligent girl, she knew had many loved ones and comforts to risk with foolish behavior. By all accounts, it seemed she should have gone along with the prevailing winds just as all of her peers did.
And yet, when questioned by the confused Gestapo interrogator (and later the court), she calmly and firmly insisted that she knew the risks and willingly accepted them, explaining simply “Somebody, after all, had to make a start.” What’s remarkable in this statement is the implicit acknowledgement that her efforts probably didn’t have much effect. There’s little evidence that the leaflets of The White Rose affected much public opinion, at least enough to motivate any kind of significant resistance. And Sophie knew that, even facing her death. Yet still, it was worth it to her because SOMEBODY HAD TO BE FIRST. Someone had to take the first stand, futile though it may seem. And that person might lose everything, but it had to be done. She presents her actions as a moral imperative: Sophie Scholl could not have done otherwise.
The best explanation I’ve seen of the Scholls’ actions are this: they were, simply, decent people. Not political firebrands, not glory-seekers with a hero complex, not even coherent theologians (although their religious beliefs were a factor in their moral development); just good people who felt a responsibility to stand against bad people. What’s even more remarkable is the form their resistance took: they wanted not just to stop the Nazis, but to restore the moral conscience of the German people. Over and over, their leaflets appeal to the better natures of their countrymen, begging them not to debase themselves by following the cancer of fascism. From the fifth leaflet: “Cast off the cloak of indifference you have wrapped around you. Decide before it is too late! …. Separate yourselves in time from everything connected with National Socialism. In the aftermath a terrible but just judgement will be meted out to those who stayed in hiding, who were cowardly and hesitant.”
Sophie herself has more to teach us about resistance: she deeply loved nature and art, and even in the worst days of the war, she would go on camping trips or to the opera to enjoy beauty in all its forms. Yes, fighting oppression was a priority, but it was important to remember WHY she was risking everything, and appreciate life’s joys as she could. She kept up a persistent correspondence with her childhood friend (and probable crush or boyfriend) Fritz Hartnagel, even though they had extremely opposing political views. Fritz often argued with Sophie about the value and morality of the Nazi’s actions, but rather than cut him off in righteous rage, or politely avoid the subject, Sophie maintained a warm tone toward him, writing hopeful, excited letters filled with genuine concern and a passionate defense of the good. Later, Fritz would credit her with changing his mind and turning him to resistance, as well.
Perhaps most importantly, Sophie was not perfect. Her letters include bouts of self-doubt, petty sniping, and self-centered rambling. And yet, it’s easy to imagine that their author is the same girl who serenely faced a horrific death. And this is the point: Sophie Scholl was just a girl who knew that “somebody” had to be first to fight back, and she decided she would be that somebody, even if she failed. This is not to take any credit away from Hans, who after all was working on the leaflets well before his little sister became involved, and who likely agonized over his role in her fate. He was extraordinarily brave and deserves to have his story told, as well. But whereas Hans was always going to take the fall when The White Rose was discovered, Sophie didn’t have to. The State gave her every opportunity to deny or minimize her role in the tiny resistance, but she refused. She would not sway from her convictions, even unto a brutal death.
Today, the price of resistance is so low compared to then…. We might get the attention of social media trolls or, at worst, an uncomfortable conversation with the boss who noticed our political activity. But really, most of us risk very little. And there are those who would argue that there’s no comparison to the atrocities, either. I disagree on that point, but regardless, if our conscience is pricking, then it’s time for somebody to make a start. To have an impact, we have to be willing to risk everything for very little gain. We have to be compassionate toward even those who would argue against us. And we have to take joy where we can. Do what you can, where you can, because somebody has to. Might as well be you.
As for this special day - February 22 - let that sink in...