Another perspective on ‘The Flat’

Posted

Rabbi James Rosenberg’s recent column (“The cost of denial,” January 2019) was wonderfully insightful about how an Israeli film, “The Flat,” pertains to us. He feels it is a story about denial and its costs; how suppression hurts us as human beings.

 

But for me, the story told in “The Flat” is about forgiveness and reconciliation. That message is relevant for us today in America.

I sympathize with the filmmaker’s grandmother, Gerda Tuchler, who left Germany when she was young, and life was good for her. She came from a cultured, upper-middle-class family. Her husband, Kurt, was a judge. The Germany of her early life was a beautiful dream to her, and the culture of yesteryear something to cherish. 

My parents were also German and loved the culture. The music of the classical composers and the poetry and art of the Romantic period can enchant people.

The friendship Gerda and Kurt Tuchler had with the Nazi official, Leopold von Mildenstein, and his wife, is understandable. The couples traveled all over Israel for many months and in the process became good friends. Europeans of past generations could develop deep friendships of respect, trust and loyalty that few of us today ever achieve or even understand.

Evidence from beyond the film suggests that the two couples helped each other. Kurt Tuchler was asked by the Jewish Federation in 1933 to make contact with Zionist sympathizers within the Nazi Party, such as von Mildenstein, to facilitate immigration to Palestine. A year later, the German government created a money-laundering system to help Zionists get to Israel with much of their assets, despite British restrictions, according to online sources.

An article at Wikipedia (en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Leopold_von_Mildenstein) explains that von Mildenstein admired Israel’s pioneers, was enthusiastic about Zionism, and studied Hebrew. But he fell out of favor and was demoted to a minor job.

Knowing the whole story, it’s possible that the Tuchlers saw the von Mildensteins not as fanatical Nazis, but as idealistic true believers in national rejuvenation (sadly conned by a snake-oil sell job), and as desperate job seekers during a worldwide depression. They came to see them as, deep down, decent human beings and sympathizers with the Jewish cause, and as cultured friends.

After the war, the Tuchlers may have felt: “It is time for forgiveness and reconciliation. They were our good friends then. Let us be friends now.” But in postwar Israel, that was not something their daughter or grandson could understand. And talking about it could make life very difficult, meaning loss of income and the apartment they cherished. This is not denial, but self-preservation.

For me, the message of the film is the Jewish principles of forgiveness and reconciliation.

The Tuchlers can be a good example for Americans once political acrimony ends: on both the right and the left, we need to forgive and reconcile. We all love our American culture. Some of us have unique views about how to preserve and enhance it. But let’s become friends again. Let’s make America really great again. 

Postscript: My mother lost five brothers and sisters in Auschwitz, together with spouses and children.  Eventually, my parents also forgave, and reconciled with relatives who once subscribed to the Nazi aim to “make Germany great again.” Ironically, now that Germany has become multiracial and multi-ethnic (and Americanized), humor and a diverse culture are back – and Germany really is a great place again. 

GARY LEIB is a retired director of community development in Bristol. Currently, he is a volunteer for The Providence Village and on its board. He is also working with friends to create co-housing in Providence.