The author and journalist Hannes Bahrmann studied History and Latin American Studies in Rostock in the 1970s and published, inter alia, several books on socialist/communist societies (Cuba, German Democratic Republic, Nicaragua, Venezuela), mostly in cooperation with Christoph Links and his publishing house. Bahrmann’s latest book is sensationally entitled Rattennest, alluding to the “ratlines”, a common term to describe escape routes for Nazis. It is published on the 60th anniversary of the Eichmann trial in Jerusalem. The author, however, does not explicitly mention the trial as the book’s incentive, noting only a personal interest in Nazis in Latin America for more than 40 years (p. 256).

Bahrmann’s central question is: Why did so many Nazis flee to Argentina of all places? (p. 19, 257) He wanted to provide more than a mere actualization of what is already known, namely to find out what made Argentina the “center” for escaping Nazis (p. 257), that is, their “nest”. This statement, somewhat hidden in the editorial postscript, unfortunately implies that no one has tried to answer that question before, even though Bahrmann himself cites well-known authors who have done so, for instance Uki Goñi, Holger Meding, and Gerald Steinacher. Perhaps it would invite less criticism to state that a culturally knowledgeable treatise about Nazis in Argentina is needed, and not only because the escape of Nazis is still an understudied area. Bahrmann’s immersion into the socio-cultural history of Argentina since its independence and the personal relations of powerful people makes up the strongest element of his book. Offering a wealth of detail, he adds analytically important facets to the otherwise well-described setting of Argentina as destination for Nazis.

The book comprises about 230 pages of text amounting to an array of fragments, occasionally of very small scale: Besides the prologue, epilogue and an editorial postscript detailing sources, the book is composed of 27 chapters interspersed with 50 illustrations, i.e., photographs, maps, postcards et cetera. The chapters are thematically diverse, ranging in scope from three to fifteen pages. Due to the focus on Nazi refugees, the main emphasis of the book is on Juan Perón’s political career and his first presidencies (1946-1955). Addressing cultural-historical developments – primarily within Argentina’s economy, military, and population –, political processes including three coups d´état (1930, 1943, 1955), particular groups such as Jews, German-Argentines or Nazi organizations, prominent individuals (Juan Perón, Friedrich Mandl, Eva Perón, Ronald Richter, Adolf Eichmann), incidents and subjects like the scuttling of the battleship Admiral Graf Spee or Nazi espionage, the book resembles a mosaic of intertwined histories connecting Argentina and Germany. The focus on the significance of socio-cultural processes and personal relations enabling Argentina to become one of the most sought for countries among fleeing Nazis is important and truly innovative.

Bahrmann’s style of writing history consists of organizing data along a roughly chronological axis, beginning in the 19th century and ending with the hanging of Eichmann in 1962, incorporating, however, offshoots that interrupt the time-line. For example, when he speaks about the Viennese “Patronenkönig” Friedrich Mandl, who had to flee to Argentina in 1938 after having been classified as a “half-Jew” and who then appointed Waldemar Pabst, one of the persons responsible for the killings of Rosa Luxemburg and Karl Liebknecht, as his trustee, Bahrmann’s story goes back to 1887 and ends in 1940. Other examples include the Ustasha, the “T4 action” or gerrymandering with references to the United States of America and Venezuela (cf. p. 166, 169, 212).

According to Bahrmann, a confluence of aspects made Argentina a safe haven for Nazis. First, he describes a kind of cultural-intellectual affinity between Argentina’s and Germany’s elites and armed forces. Here, he convincingly details the importance of eugenics, anti-Semitism and the admiration of Argentinian soldiers, including Juan Perón, for the Prussian military and their complex collaboration, highlighting the instruction in Prussian military culture. The systematic elimination of indigenous people beginning in 1878 as part of the ruling elites’ nation building process, a “genocide” according to Bahrmann, set the stage for eugenics as legitimizing narrative, prominently disseminated since the mid-19th century by Domingo Faustino Sarmiento. Further aspects that helped to facilitate the influx of Nazis were a rather large community of German-speaking immigrants, among them many Nazis and Nazi-sympathizers. Not by chance, Argentina was the last country to declare war on Nazi-Germany, on March 27, 1945. Yet, the most important reason for Bahrmann lies in Perón’s presidency. Craving for the modernization of Argentina’s military and productive forces, Perón had a personal interest in taking in as many Nazis as possible, informed by the locally long-standing eugenic narrative of an inherent modernizing potency of “White” people. In practice, a kind of teamwork with the Catholic Church, namely with Bishop Alois Hudal, and the Red Cross which provided documentation enabled Argentina’s government, via its consulate general in Genoa, to attract Nazis.

The best parts of Rattennest, in my opinion, are due to Bahrmann’s relational and cultural perspective. He excellently conveys the astonishing intensity and scope of personal relationships between Argentinians and Germans which, inadvertently, illustrate at the very best Edward Said’s notion of intertwined histories.1 The discussion of Perón’s many personal relationships with German militaries as teachers and with various Nazis as personal advisors, is particularly important. Even though a systematic interpretation is lacking, the data provided indicate a disturbing presence of Nazis at the center of Argentina’s political power. Another great achievement of Bahrmann lies in his compelling analysis of local cultural processes that strengthened Argentina’s “pull factor” for Nazis, above all a kindred anthropological mindset built on notions of “racial superiority” connected to “cultural progress”, which in turn also contributed to the overlooking of Nazi atrocities.

Bahrmann’s book is thoroughly proofread, I found only three typos: Julio A. Roca’s second presidency began in 1898, not 1888 (p. 31), Quijada’s name is Mónica, not Moniqua (p. 258); the Wannsee conference was held on January 20, not on the 22nd (p. 237). Yet, Bahrmann’s dealing with sources is at times irritating. Probably for reasons of readability, sources are never cited with page references, or even at all, despite a rather elaborate 13 page-long editorial postscript listing more than 90 sources, mostly books but also articles, documentaries, and published interviews. The lack of detailed references renders source criticism more difficult. In one citation of Gerald Steinacher’s text written in German2, five errors are evident, including changes of wording (“illegal” instead of “schwarz”), omissions and additions (cf. p. 161f.). The first paragraph of Rattennest is an undisclosed translation of Tomás Eloy Martínez’ beginning in a text that is at least cited in the postscript (p. 266). A citation of a Wikipedia article about General Karl Litzmann, one of Perón’s teachers, is not indicated (p. 103). Gaby Weber is cited (p. 247, 250) but not mentioned in the postscript. A bit peculiar is the qualification of Eloy Martínez’ bestselling novel Santa Evita as a “biography” (p. 118, 265; see also p. 115).

As to the data analyzed, I was surprised that Bahrmann did not discuss Ricardo W. Darré, a German-Argentine, mentioning him in passing only (p. 116, 189). Darré’s biography would be a perfect case for a discussion of “local” culture and power relations and how they configure the intertwined histories of Nazi refugees. Another strange omission is the case of Oswald Menghin, who fled as a war criminal to Argentina, especially in light of the importance Bahrmann assigns to anthropology (chapters 1, 21, p. 159). Finally, it would have been very interesting to follow the topic beyond 1962, via the last dictatorship (1976–1983) and the many testimonies decrying Nazism and anti-Semitism among the perpetrators3, up until the present. For instance, when Bahrmann mentions a recent debate about a new banknote featuring a portrait of Perón’s former secretary of health Ramón Carrillo who had promoted Carl Værnet’s experiments in “curing” homosexuality (cf. p. 193ff.), the contemporary relevance of a culturally and relationally sensitive study of Nazi refugees becomes tangible.

In general, and despite a few shortcomings, Bahrmann’s book is enriching and important. He compellingly underlines the necessity of considering absorbing societies’ cultural-historical formations and power relations, thereby providing a significant path into a more intertwined global history of Nazi refugees.

Notes:
1 Edward W. Said, Culture & Imperialism, London 1993.
2 Gerald Steinacher, Argentinien als NS-Fluchtziel. Die Emigration von Kriegsverbrechern und Nationalsozialisten durch Italien an den Río de la Plata 1946–1955. Mythos und Wirklichkeit, in: Holger Meding (Hrsg.), Argentinien und das Dritte Reich: Mediale und reale Präsenz, Ideologietransfer, Folgewirkungen, Berlin 2008, p. 237.
3 Jacobo Timerman, Prisoner Without a Name, Cell Without a Number, New York 1981.