THE CONSPIRASPHERE
When German police foiled the Reichsbürger plot last year, it briefly made international headlines. NOEL ROONEY disinters the strangely vanishing tale of an unlikely threat to democracy...
SCREW THE PUTSCH
Kaiser Heinrich XIII of the Fourth Reich was always going to be a long shot. Even if you buy the contentions of the Reichsbürger movement
– that the Second World War never officially ended, because no peace treaty was signed between Germany and the Allied powers; that Germany as currently constituted is not a sovereign state but rather a corporate entity created by the war’s victors; and (presumably) that the Volk are eager to throw off the yoke of the foreign oppressors – the idea that a handful of individuals, however committed (or perhaps in need of committing) could raise two hundred divisions of paramilitaries and storm the ramparts of falsity, was, at the very best, quixotic.
In early December last year, the German police carried out what they described as the largest raid in their history. Over three thousands officers conducted raids on over 100 properties across the country, looking for arms, ammunition, literature, and other evidence of the coup attempt. Eventually, 25 people were detained, including Heinrich XIII Reuss, the putative king in waiting.
As for the weapons and materiel, it was a bit of a mixed bag. Initial reports spoke of a ‘number’ of pistols, swords and knives; not, in retrospect, necessarily adequate to the alleged ambitions of the coup plotters. Nonetheless, Germany’s gun laws, which are already among the tightest in Europe, were further strengthened in the wake of the raids.
Talking of mixed bags, some of the key personnel in the plot were, in any realistic appraisal, somewhat eccentric. Along with the unfortunate Heinrich, there was Birgit MalsackWinkemann, a judge and former parliamentarian representing Alternativ für Deutschland; Ms Winkemann was apparently slated to be the minister for justice in the new government. Another interesting pick was a celebrity chef, Frank Heppner; Heppner, an expert in oriental fusion cuisine, was allegedly going to run the movement’s canteens, according to an Austrian news outlet.
Quite how thousands of ultranationalist fighters would take to oriental fusion rather than Wiener schnitzel was not explained; perhaps because Die Presse was more concerned with Heppner’s daughter, who is the partner of a famous Austrian footballer, David Alaba. Alaba, and indeed Shalimar Heppner, his partner, are both mixed race; so the media interest was straining the context a little, if not crossing lines of prurience.
There were, no doubt, a few serious individuals in the cabal. Germany’s police force and army have long been seen as a haven for far-right sympathisers, and in the last 20 years or so, there have been a number of sinister incidents involving serving personnel, some of them with fatal repercussions. But once you count off the Kaiser, the judge, the chef, and (apparently) the stray Russian national, the number of potentially active (and therefore dangerous) members of the group would struggle to make up two full football teams. Perhaps that’s why Die Presse was promoting Mr Alaba’s connection.
The strangest aspect of the affair, for this writer at least, is that the story went – as far as the German media were concerned – from massive existentialist threat to nothingburger in a matter of 10 days. By mid-December, it had more or less completely disappeared from the media landscape. This is peculiar, given that the media were all over it, to the extent of being present for live-action reports of the raids. Perhaps it’s simply a matter of job well done by the security apparatus, but it does feel a little like a ‘move along, nothing to see here’ response. Particularly when the German interior minister, Nancy Faese, was quoted as claiming the country was “fighting back against the enemies of democracy”.
Democracy has its enemies; of that there is no doubt. And conspiracy theorists are collectively seen as such by many in the Establishment, even if the majority of the population is more likely to label them as harmless loonies. Perhaps the coup plotters really did believe that, armed with a few swords and exotic dishes, they could dismantle the state apparatus. The state apparatus certainly seems to have believed in them. That belief is, it transpires, far from universal.
Some commentators have expressed suspicion that the whole affair was either a case of overkill on the part of the authorities or, worse, a set-up. And it’s not just the conspiracists who think so, although the C-sphere cried foul first. There have been mutterings from journalists on all sides of the political divide.
The dilemma for those in authority is clear: should they ignore a potential plot to take over the country, even if, on the face of it, it’s palpably absurd? Having said that, there is something of the PR boondoggle about the way the security people went about it. Media were invited to some of the raids, names were released early, and the feeble cache of weapons was put on display without any apparent embarrassment.
It makes me wonder if the constant over-egging of conspiracy theory as a threat by opportunistic politicos, and their chums in the media, has begun to warp the collective mind to the extent that folks like Heinrich XIII actually look dangerous. The C-sphere has a different take, naturally; they point out that the German security forces have form when it comes to fitting up would-be revolutionaries. Back in 2003, an operation against the ultranationalist National Democratic Party collapsed when the court determined that at least thirty of the party’s most prominent people were in fact government agents or informers.
The group would struggle to make up two full football teams