Nazi initiation: No one is laughing

Admittedly, the Second World War is fertile ground for comedy and entertainment. The list of uplifting works based on one of the darkest chapters of human history is extensive: Dad’s Army, Mel Brooks’ The Producers and Art Spiegelman’s graphic novel Maus, to name but a few of those produced since the end of the conflict. But who can forget that perhaps the greatest satire of the Third Reich was filmed before its most appalling atrocities even began?

In 1940, Charlie Chaplin’s The Great Dictator opened to cinema audiences at the most perilous moment for European democracy in modern times. France had capitulated under the onslaught of Blitzkrieg, and a wary American public kept a watchful eye on events in Europe, but refused to become involved. For a long, dark year just two countries stood in defiance of Nazi tyranny: little Greece, and the United Kingdom, now cut off from her empire.

Mr Chaplin’s film—his first "talkie," and his greatest commercial success—drew heavily on the slapstick comedy that had brought him fame and popularity. However, at a time of apathy and denial in Hollywood, where the depiction of the plight of Jews in Europe was an unbroken taboo, it was excoriating in its condemnation of fascism and antisemitism. "Half-way through making The Great Dictator I began receiving alarming messages from United Artists ... but I was determined to go ahead, for Hitler must be laughed at,” Mr Chaplin is reported as having said.

An associate of Mr Chaplin later claimed in a 1983 interview that US president, Franklin D. Roosevelt a sent personal envoy to encourage the comic to complete his project – suggesting that President Roosevelt predicted the effect the film would have on an apathetic American public. The Great Dictator cast in accessible terms the evil which was spreading across Europe and, when the attack on Pearl Harbour made US entry into WWII a political possibility, the public was ready to shoulder its share of the burden of defeating fascism.

There can be no question that rendering ridiculous that which is worst in our society is a laudable, even useful goal. However, there can equally be no mistaking the crass mimicry of the imagery of hate for that more noble purpose – a mistake made by some students at the University of Gloucestershire whose "initiation ceremony" involved being lead around by a costumed SS officer. Nothing is gained by wearing a Nazi uniform as a figure of fun – not in the name of free speech, nor as blow against so-called "political correctness."

As much as the trappings of fascism should be ridiculed, they should equally be considered with utter sobreity and seriousness. In the words of Craig Gottlieb, an expert trader and collected of antique Nazi militaria, “artifacts from Hitler’s Germany must be steadfastly preserved in order to bear witness to the evils that transpired during his regime’s twelve year incursion onto the world stage.”

Mr Gottlieb speaks with commendable accuracy. Bearing witness is the one activity which the symbolism of hateful regimes such as Adolf Hiter’s should be deployed for. This might be in the satirical style of Mr Chaplin or Mr Brooks, a heavyweight investigation along the lines of Costa Gavras’ Amen, or in survivors’ testimonials such as those of Primo Levi or Elie Wiesel. Such testimonials have done so much to educate and enlighten the world regarding the depths of human depravity that we have been capable of.

The behaviour of students at the University of Gloucestershire was neither clever nor useful; it was not, as described by Leslie Bunder of SomethingJewish, a harmless prank; it made light of bestial disregard for human life and dignity in a pathetic plea for attention. The students involved might want to reflect on being outdone by the 70 year-old, black-and-white masterpiece of mime. Back then, Charlie Chaplin got it right. This time, no one was laughing.