Free Worldly Philosopher: The Odyssey of Albert O. Hirschman by Jeremy Adelman Page A

night fearing for OA and Ursula’s safety. On February 27, the Socialists had called fora mass rally at the Sportpalast. It was to be the largest—and last—such gathering. Otto Albert and Ursula went and watched as the seams of the Socialist movement came apart: wait or confront, let the government implode or bring it down, let the threat pass or resort to armed resistance? The leadership dug in its heels: Hitler was a mere demagogue, it insisted; he was doomed to fail. More-radical militants jeered and bellowed from the seats: they must take action! When the rally was over, despondent Socialists filed out of the arena only to be greeted by columns of police and storm troopers. By that time it was evening. As Otto Albert, Ursula, and friends made their way home, shouting broke out in the streets, the crowds pushed and yelled. Over Berlin’s rooftops, something lit up the night sky. Otto Albert looked up to see smoke plumes rising against the crimson horizon. Then came the flames, creating dark silhouettes out of the mounted policemen. 27
    Soon came the riptide of rumors: the Reichstag was burning!
    “Things did not change fundamentally,” recalled Hirschman, “until the Reichstag fire, which really marked the beginning of the political horror.” 28 The next day, the chancellor, alleging a Red uprising, issued emergency decrees abolishing fundamental rights and promising harsh punishments for anyone threatening the health of the Reich. Four thousand Sturmabteilung (SA) troopers scattered across the city to begin roundups. Eventually, all opposition parties were banned and assemblies forbidden; left-leaning newspapers closed shop. In one night the pretext was laid for abolishing the political culture and institutions in which OA and his mates had immersed themselves. Not surprisingly, such a radical change to the rules of the political game was utterly bewildering to those on the ground, no matter how much “theoretical” reading they had done.
    The stage was set for a final campaign by Socialists. With Communists by then out of the chamber and Catholics caving to Hitler, it fell to the hobbled SPD to try to stop the Nazi juggernaut. Hitler proposed a law that would allow him to govern for four years without constitutional constraints, legislation needing a two-thirds majority from the parliament. Socialist activists met in homes, union halls, and universities to debate how to get the message beyond private circles in the absence ofa free press or public assemblies. Duplicating machines were the tool of preference, but they posed an additional question—where to keep them? For Hirschmann’s SAJ group, the solution presented itself in the form of an Italian philosophy student, Eugenio Colorni, who had spotted the attractive Ursula at the library of the University of Berlin. At the time, he was working on a thesis on Leibnitz with a well-known Leibnitz specialist, Erich Auerbach, at the University of Marburg. Ursula and Otto Albert plucked up the courage to ask Colorni to keep a printing machine in his room in a hostel in Charlottenburg. There they could compose their broadsheet; since he was a foreigner, the Nazis would not suspect his involvement. Thus began a formative influence; for a short while, until Colorni returned to Marburg, his hotel room “became a nerve center for antifascist activities and publications” in the final weeks of the new regime’s consolidation. 29
    Socialist militants fanned out to the streets, their bags full of leaflets, urging people to rally to the opposition of the new bill. Otto Albert joined small cells of activists for safety. They would go the top of apartment buildings and work their way down floor by floor, leaving leaflets under tenants’ doors and talking to whomever they could. Working from top to bottom made it easier to flee in case they were sighted by the police or brownshirts. Amid paranoia about moles and break-ins, Hirschmann’s group worked furiously to embolden