Once We Were Brothers

By the end of Chapter 28, Otto’s transformation into a monstrous figure is largely complete. His theft of the Solomons’ property, his refusal to give back Abraham’s life savings, and his violent retribution against Elzbieta all indicate to Ben and the reader that Otto can no longer be relied upon in good faith. This transformation is slow and echoes much of what political theorist Hannah Arendt wrote in her oft-referenced 1963 book, Eichmann in Jerusalem: A Report on the Banality of Evil. Arendt writes that Adolf Eichmann, despite being one of the chief facilitators of the extermination of Jews across Europe, was not a psychopath or even a fanatical believer of the Nazi cause. Rather, Eichmann was largely motivated by a desire for professional promotion that was utterly ordinary. She writes:

“The trouble with Eichmann was precisely that so many were like him, and that the many were neither sadistic or perverted, that they were, and still are, terribly and terrifyingly normal. From the viewpoint of our legal institutions and of our moral standards of judgment, this normality was much more terrifying than all the atrocities put together.” (Arendt, Hannah. Eichmann in Jerusalem: A Report on the Banality of Evil. Viking Press. 1963.)

This characterization of Eichmann could also apply to Otto. His actions as a young teenager—particularly his heroic rescue of Beka—indicate that he is neither a psychopath nor a sadist. He does not enjoy committing atrocities, yet he deeply enjoys his professional status and the benefits that come with it. When Ben begs Otto for Abraham’s life savings, Otto’s response is to brag about his latest sexual conquest, afforded to him in large part because of his relatively high rank: “She’s a wild tiger, I tell you. She has my little soldier saluting her all night” (168). That Otto’s mind is preoccupied with such creature comforts at a moment of desperation for his best friend is deeply telling of his mental state and motivations. Like Eichmann, Otto thinks little of the consequences of his actions and those of his Nazi compatriots. He commits atrocities not in the name of evil but in the name of careerism. This truth doesn’t make Otto or Eichmann any less of a monster. It does, however, reveal how an otherwise ordinary individual is persuaded to commit crimes against humanity.

Later, when Otto decisively denies Ben his family’s life savings, he does so not on moral grounds but legal ones. He tells Ben, “It’s against the law for you to have it. If they change the law, then I’ll give it to you. But mind this warning: you and your family must obey the laws or face severe punishment” (204). Otto’s decision to relinquish his own moral and ethical standards in favor of a patently unjust system of laws reveals another way otherwise good or civilized people are persuaded to behave like monsters. Here, Arendt’s words are again deeply relevant. She writes, “In the Third Reich evil lost its distinctive characteristic by which most people had until then recognized it. The Nazis redefined it as a civil norm.” (Arendt, Hannah. Eichmann in Jerusalem: A Report on the Banality of Evil. Viking Press. 1963.) In other words, when the laws and actions of the state normalize evil, normal people like Otto are tacitly permitted to engage in it.

In Chapter 26, which focuses on Ben’s attempt to save Beka from Rabka, the book examines a less well-known reality of Nazi cruelty: the forced prostitution of young girls and women in German military brothels. Throughout Poland and the rest of Nazi-occupied Europe, Jews and non-Jews alike were kidnapped and conscripted into sexual slavery. Women between the ages of 15 and 25 were particularly common targets for Nazi sex rings. When Ben says, “I thought it was forbidden for SS officers to have relations with Jews,” Otto curtly replies, “Don’t be naive” (174). This again reflects the extent to which Nazi officers are motivated less by ideology and more by base yet ordinary human desires twisted into ugly predation by the state’s mass dehumanization of non-Germans.

Meanwhile, the way Balson frames Beka’s specific experience at Rabka reveals something about the book’s gender politics. Rather than submit to Rolf’s sexual appetite, Beka prefers to die, throwing herself out the window and thus preserving her purity for all eternity. Before doing so, Beka tells Rolf, “This is one Jewish girl you won’t violate” (186). While this is undoubtedly a noble act of resistance, one could argue that it reflects a tacit accusation of shaming leveled at the women who do submit to the officers because they have no other choice if they hope to survive.

Finally, along with Otto’s transformation, these chapters depict the end of Catherine’s transformation from disinterested skeptic to fully invested ally to Ben. The turning point comes when Catherine learns of Beka’s suicide, which deeply affects her. She tells Ben, “I need to stop here. I’m exhausted—physically and emotionally. I feel like I lost a friend today. I want you to finish your story, but I can’t absorb any more today” (191). With this newfound passion, however, comes great self-doubt in her ability to serve Ben as her client. Catherine tells Liam, “I don’t have [Ben’s] strength of character. This is too lofty an assignment for me” (193). Her commitment is steeled, however, when her boss Walter Jenkins tries to force her to drop the case. She tells him, “Mr. Jenkins, I’m ashamed of you. For what? For justice, that’s what! I’m not abandoning this case. I’ll work the file out of my house if I have to. Fire me, if you want to. For now, I’m on leave” (200). From this point forward, Catherine’s chief internal conflict is no longer between careerism and ethics, but rather between trusting and doubting herself.