In a recent non-fiction book, In the Garden of Beasts, author Erik Larson recounts the story of William E. Dodd, the U.S. ambassador to Germany from June of 1933 until December of 1937. What is so surprising about the story is that it has not been told before, at least to my knowledge. Within months of his posting to Berlin, Dodd was reporting on the beatings and detentions of American tourists by the Nazis, the beatings and torture of Germans who failed to salute storm troopers or who dated Jewish people, and other clear signs of a police state deteriorating into a world menace. Yet, Dodd’s reports were mocked and derided by colleagues and superiors in the State Department in Washington, D.C., and he was chastised when he finally refused to meet with German officials because such meetings were a total charade. In late 1937, he was forced to resign and was replaced by Hugh Wilson, who described Hitler as the “man who has pulled his people form moral and economic despair into the state of pride and evident prosperity.” Dodd returned to the U.S. and toured widely, reporting on what he had witnessed in Germany. Then his wife died, and he died in February 1940, well before Pearl Harbor.
It’s clear that the U.S. government knew for years of the atrocities of the Nazis, long before the attack on Poland and the outbreak of war and more than a decade before U.S. soldiers uncovered the horrors of the concentration camps. It’s also clear that they didn’t really want to know what was happening in Germany.
What’s most discouraging about this is that, almost 75 years after Dodd’s death, we still have a government – and a great number of citizens – who “don’t want to know.” No one really wanted to know about genocide in Cambodia, the former Yugoslavia, or Ruanda, or Darfur. No one really wanted to know about the financial disaster lurking in sub-prime mortgages. No one really wants to know about the dangers of global warming… the list of denials and deniers is almost endless… and all of them had what they believed to be good reasons… and all of them were wrong.
You can’t fix a problem you don’t recognize or one whose existence you deny. It may make you feel more comfortable… until it can’t be denied, until hundreds of thousands or millions have died, or the bombs are falling around you, or the storms get worse and worse…
So… what’s exactly so good about our not wanting to know, both individually and as a society? That we don’t have to do anything… and we can secretly hope that it will miraculously go away or that someone else will deal with it?