Historical Character: Otto Adolf Eichmann

The Social 6 is cold, very formal, [...] has a great love for precision and an intolerance for ambiguity. [...] Duty: It is more than just being concerned with duty, as Social 6s are concerned first and foremost with reference points. They have the mind of a legislator, with clear categories. And if they ever wanted to become human beings, they would first need to go crazy and forget all reference points. They need to forget duty—no duty—and connect with instinct and intuition, with life.

These words by Claudio Naranjo serve as a source of inspiration to examine a paradigmatic example of the imbalanced Social 6. We will delve into the psychology of Nazism and the "monstrous" figure of Adolf Eichmann (the coordinator of the deportation to the

extermination camps) as an embodiment of emotional uprooting, rigidity, and splitting that culminates in destructiveness. Someone whose passion for obedience and blind sense of duty turned him into a massive exterminator.

The fact that the mask is permanently worn also makes it invisible to its wearer. Being integral and unsuspected, it limits the scope of action, as it reduces the relationship with others to an ascending/descending line whose apex is, in this case, the Führer. He rules. The options: obey or be exterminated. In this rigid vertical dynamic, there is no room for any other movement, especially the horizontal one, from you to you. The only possible binding is submission.

Psychological and symbolic aspects appear in the destructive machinery of Nazism. A salvific cohesive vision is anchored in a static-aesthetic ideal of social Darwinism, elevated to the nth power by the force of the masses, which creates waves of security. Those attached to the mass feel fully safe on their journey toward that radical destination, which rejects any reflection or doubt.

Erich Fromm points out aspects such as authoritarianism, destructiveness, and automaton conformity, which are essential for understanding the suppression of freedom and sadomasochistic dynamics:

The first mechanism of evasion of freedom consists of a tendency to abandon the independence of one's individual self in order to merge with something or someone outside oneself, to acquire the strength the individual self lacks.

This ideal of strengthening will be symbolically represented, as a sacred totem, by the imperial eagle. The raptor that, at the top of the food chain, feels no compassion for its prey.

From the shadows of emotional uprooting, excluded fragility, and unbearable radical insecurity, destructive ideals, dogmas, and imperatives are born: absolutist certainties. The other arc of this voltage is a state of alert. The greatest threat is constant and can come from others or oneself. Eric Fromm points out:

The essence of the authoritarian character has been described as the simultaneous presence of impulsive sadistic and masochistic tendencies, understanding sadism as the exercise of unlimited power over another person and destructiveness to a more or less intense degree; masochism, on the other hand, as an impulse aimed at dissolving one's own self into an omnipotent power, in order to participate in its glory.

Thus, a polar dynamic is generated between an inflated ego (the Führer and the Nazi machine) and a mass of "normal" individuals, where the person ceases to be themselves and becomes an automaton.

The Nazi "machinery" (Hitler himself, Goebbels, etc.) knew that yearning for submission and obedience, as shown by their propaganda and management of the masses. The Nazi ideology, with its submission to leaders and symbols, and hatred of ethnic groups to project resentment and feel important and omnipotent, generated great adherence. Admiration for supreme entities and contempt for weakness were dynamics of social cohesion.

The extermination strategy known as the "final solution," designed with absolute precision by Eichmann, requires an affective absence toward the other, with a radical, ontological lack of listening.

It is an empowerment that excludes doubt and shadow. Imbued with an ideal—pure social Darwinism—of being superior, like the eagle or the lion, and, of course, with the education. First, the individual is taught to sacrifice themselves for something greater: the whole. The Führer himself expresses it: "Only idealism leads men to the voluntary recognition of the privilege of force and power, transforming them into a particle of that order that constitutes the entire universe and gives it shape."

The aim of education is, therefore, to teach the individual not to assert themselves. In the words of Goebbels: "Already in school, the boy must learn not only to remain silent when he has been justly reprimanded, but also to bear injustice in silence." Here is the seed of submission to authority, the essence of the shadow of duty.

An example of this destructive germ is the SS officer Adolf Eichmann. This well-known "monster" is portrayed by Hannah Arendt as the organizer of the slaughter of multitudes of human beings from a perspective that claims an astonishing innocence of duty.

This is what Arendt refers to when she introduces the concept of the banality of evil, as unconsciousness: what Eichmann did was simply in line with duty.

Regarding the Jerusalem trial, which ended with Eichmann's death sentence, the author highlights the absolute incapacity of the Nazi deportee to consider anything from the interlocutor's point of view. His language was bureaucratic, unable to string together two words that were not a set phrase. Arendt wonders if it was these clichés that led to the consideration of Eichmann, by psychiatrists, as someone terribly "normal."

Eichmann, who had never made a decision, who always tried to act on orders received, who (as those who worked under him attested) did not even like to make suggestions and always asked for orders, took, for the first and last time, an initiative that contradicted the orders received: instead of sending the deportees to Russian territory, they were sent to the Lodz ghetto. [...] Himmler protected Eichmann and the matter was forgotten. As he noted, "In this case, I had, for the first and last time, the possibility of choosing."

Arendt points out that for Eichmann, the idealist was the man who lived for his idea and was ready to sacrifice anything for the sake of his idea, that is, a man willing to sacrifice everything and everyone for his idea. When, during a police interrogation, he said that he would have sent his own father to his death if he had been ordered to do so, he did not only mean to emphasize the extent to which he was obliged to obey orders and how much he fulfilled them with pleasure, but also wanted to indicate what a great "idealist" he was.

The author, seeing him wrapped in that aura of normality, with a feeling of satisfaction for the duty fulfilled, reflects:

He probably also thought that the new method of killing indicated a clear improvement in the Nazi government's attitude toward the Jews, since, at the beginning of the death-by-gas program, it was expressly stated that the benefits of euthanasia were the privilege of the true Germans... In addition, from 1942, there were teams dedicated to euthanasia operating in the East, with the mission of helping the wounded. And even though these massacres were top secret, many knew about them, including the executors of the final solution.

Eichmann stated during the trial: "No one came to see me to reproach me for a single act performed by me in the performance of my duties. Not even Pastor Grüber, who came to see me and asked me to alleviate the sufferings of others, but did not raise any objection to the acts I performed, in the line of duty."

And at another time: "I did not persecute the Jews with avidity or with pleasure. It was the government that did it. The persecution, on the other hand, could only be decided by a government, but in no case by me. I accuse the rulers of having abused my obedience. At that time, obedience was required, just as it was later on from subordinates."

The author points out that even on the day of his execution, a few meters from the gallows and minutes from his death, his effort was aimed at maintaining an upright position and a pose of dignity, to express a trivial set phrase before death:

"Long live Germany. Long live Austria. Long live Argentina. These are the countries with which I identify the most and I will never forget them. I had to obey the rules of war and those of my flag. I’m ready."

Arendt explains the banality of evil:

"I limit myself to pointing out a phenomenon that, in the course of the trial, became evident. Eichmann was not a Lago, nor was he a Macbeth [...] he would have been incapable of murdering his superior to inherit his position; we can say that he simply never knew what he was doing. And it was precisely this lack of imagination that allowed him to stand in front of the German Jew in charge of his police interrogation and speak to him with his

heart in his hand... It was only pure and simple thoughtlessness that predisposed him to become one of the greatest criminals of our time."

We are facing outrages against humanity caused by a "bureaucratic" duty, in blind obedience to a destructive authority, which rides on the back of an illusory "destiny" made of ideals and symbols of omnipotence.

A duty that assumes collective authority with earmuffs, where individuality is severed. Masochism, sadism, and the desire for power intertwine in a destructive spiral.

An ignorant duty, absent of ethics, of the minimum listening to oneself, generates madness and massive unconscious participation. An irresponsible duty that, in the absence of its own decisions or criteria, places itself at the mercy of brutality, and feeds it.

An icy duty, where the other is only a superior to whom radical submission is due, or an inferior being to be eliminated or in whom to deposit the darkest and most destructive impulses.

An idealistic duty that aspires to unattainable suns, completely hiding the heart, leaving it without a heartbeat, compassion, or the slightest empathy. As our "bureaucratic monster" points out, he would have even sacrificed his own father, first for obeying orders, and second for loyalty to ideals, which are the priority and essential. A banal duty, which generates cruelty in abundance from the most absolute absence of pity, wrapped in innocent irresponsibility.

Arendt concludes:

"In fact, one of the lessons that the Jerusalem trial gave us was that such a process of detachment from reality and such thoughtlessness can cause more harm than all the evil instincts inherent, perhaps, in human nature. But it was only a lesson, not an explanation of the phenomenon, nor a theory about it."

This acute realization that irresponsible ignorance can generate destructiveness as dangerous as, or more so than, perverse instincts is terrifying.

We conclude with two sentences. One, from the agent who arrested the SS officer in Argentina: "The most disturbing thing about Eichmann is that he was not a monster, but a human being." Another, from the philosopher Francis Bacon: "He who does not want to think is a fan; who cannot think is an idiot; who does not dare to think is a coward."

Film Example: Other People's Lives

Director: Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck Year: 2005 Country: Germany Cast: Ulrich Mühe, Martina Gedeck, Sebastian Koch, Ulrich Tukur, Thomas Thieme, Hans-Uwe Bauer, Volkmar Kleinert, Matthias Brenner, Charly Hübner, and Herbert Knaup.

Plot

German Democratic Republic, 1984. Captain Gerd Wiesler (Ulrich Mühe), a lonely man, is a competent officer in the intelligence service of the Stasi, the all-powerful secret police of the communist regime. When he is commissioned to spy on the couple formed by the prestigious writer Georg Dreyman (Sebastian Koch) and the popular actress Christa-María Sieland (Martina Gedeck), he cannot even imagine to what extent this mission will influence his conception of life. (Scenes that indicate a process of change are marked with an asterisk: *)

One hundred thousand employees (Security) and two hundred thousand confidants safeguard the dictatorship of the proletariat. Goal: "Know everything." The Party is a paranoid structure; it's "either with me or against me." Its purpose: self-preservation at all costs. Those who are inside are forced to work the same way. If not, they will be excluded as traitors. And exclusion means losing everything.

Captain Wiesler teaches at the Stasi Academy. He uses a recording of an interrogation to teach how it should be done, highlighting what must be considered. A student remarks that keeping a detainee awake for forty-eight hours is inhumane, and Wiesler checks the student's name off a list. He explains the possible reactions of a detainee, to know if they are guilty or not, expressing indifference to their signs of suffering: "In an interrogation, they face enemies of socialism."

This first scene reflects the paranoid aspects of Wiesler's character: general mistrust, arbitrariness, persecutory-conspiratorial ideas, suspicion, hypervigilance, and the adaptation of facts to preconceived ideas, with extreme rigidity when it comes to changing them, even though the facts contradict them. The rest is rationalism, regulations, and compliance with duty. He works like the Party, and in order to do so, he has to believe in it. "Knowing everything" justifies any method (the destruction of others, the one who is "outside," paranoically identified as an enemy).

His particular idealism is also evident. He does not identify with socialism as an abstract theory, but with the Party that embodies it. An institution in which one can be included, to belong, in exchange for uncritical fidelity. That brings together what the Wieslers of the world need: Security (there are no doubts, everything is well defined... by others), rules (knowing what to do at all times), inclusion (a sense of belonging to something bigger, beautiful, an idealized family megasystem), protection (livelihood, work, impunity, a mother/father role), and power (hierarchies are important, everyone needs someone below to compensate for having someone above).

His observation of "the others" begins in the theater, where he contemplates what is happening on stage through binoculars. Condemned to be an eternal observer, he watches the actress Christa-Maria Sieland (CMS), and for a moment, her expression seems to change. He then follows the movements of the writer Dreyman (D.), who greets an official suspect, which automatically makes him, in Wiesler's eyes, a suspect himself.

Along with his usual hypervigilant bloodhound demeanor, for a moment, he seems disturbed. The "others" that he is going to have to spy on become significant to him. They live, move, interact, and act. Wiesler observes, from passivity, the activity of others.

After a day of work, he arrives at his house, furnished austerely, with a dinner consisting of a few simple furniture pieces, almost without decorations. He prepares dinner while discussing the “soundness of the Party's economic policy” and brings it to the room. He turns on the TV, where the news plays. He sits down to eat alone.

His private life seems like a continuation of his professional life. Here we see his personal identification with the Party (representative of his socialist ideals). There is no boundary between private and public space. He does not grant himself any luxury, and he does not seem to have material privileges. He is consistent with "socialist" sobriety. It is noteworthy that he does not improve his private life because, in reality, he does not have one. He is guided by a sense of duty—normative, inexpressive.

The writer's surveillance begins. Wiesler enters the house with the police, who set up the bugs. The neighbor watches through the peephole as they leave the apartment. Wiesler notices and threatens her with serious harm to her daughter if she tells anyone what she has seen. His ability to command, authoritarianism, hypervigilance, and systematic observation are evident. He is hyper-controlling and self-controlled.

Wiesler listens to the activity of the writer D. and his partner. He writes the report with distance and meticulousness. "They open the (birthday) presents, and from the noises, they seem to be having sex." He reproaches his replacement for being four minutes late, and when jokes are made about the frequency with which those spied on make love, Wiesler

gestures in acknowledgment, showing impatience. He observes private lives, an intimacy he lacks. It doesn't seem entirely indifferent.

A superior accompanies Captain Wiesler to the office dining room. When they arrive, the boss tells him that the place where Wiesler has sat is not for the bosses, and Wiesler replies that "socialism has to start somewhere."

His superior informs him that the minister is related to one of the people Wiesler is spying on (harassing CMS) and forbids him to mention it in his reports. Wiesler protests, saying, "We swear to be the shield and sword of the Party." "What is the Party, but its members? And the more influential, the better," the boss replies.

Here, two opposing visions of the Party are evident: Wiesler's idealism and loyalty versus the pragmatism of his superior. Wiesler's ambiguous attitude toward authority is apparent. He does not openly rebel; when he disagrees, he is silent and obedient but does not seem to accept the orders internally.

Orderly, systematic, disciplined, tenacious, loyal to the supposed ideals of the Party, dogmatic, obedient to authority (00:38:41). Wiesler draws a plan of the writer D.'s house with chalk on the floor of the room where he listens. He marks one of the rooms with the letters CMS (the name of the bride).

He becomes more embedded in a virtual house, increasingly within the privacy of others, and his own lack of privacy becomes more evident.

*(00:41:30) The minister takes CMS in his car to the writer D.'s house after abusing her. Wiesler watches him and manipulates the doorbell of the writer D.'s house so that it rings. He steps out onto the street and watches his girlfriend get out of the minister's car. "The time for bitter truths has come," he says.

He is beginning to get personally involved, beyond what is required by his work. It is an ambiguous attitude, unclear if it is due to a sense of justice (or duty) or incipient envy. Perhaps the second, subtly; there is little self-awareness. It can also be understood as a way of rebelling against the explicit order not to report on the minister. He does not mention him in his reports but causes a conflict that could harm him.

*(00:45:18) Wiesler listens with special interest to what follows after the previous scene, which he himself has provoked: the couple's reaction to what happened. He is seen leaning to one side, as if to hear better, highly attuned to any sound. He is upset, reproaching himself for being late by five minutes. He appears angry, disappointed that the conflict he caused was resolved with the couple's reconciliation and a new sexual encounter.

This mixture of envy, subtle aggression, incipient awareness of need, and demand for satisfaction is manifested in his request for a prostitute, whom he welcomes into his home.

The relationship seems to satisfy him at first but leaves him empty. When she makes a move to leave—when the time is up—Wiesler asks expressively for her to stay a little longer. He needs contact beyond the sexual. He is alone and begins to realize this.

Emotionally cold, psychologically and physically rigid, Wiesler has great difficulty expressing affection and desire.

*(00:49:09) Wiesler enters the writer D.'s house, he observes the unmade bed and the desk where he has some books. Later, D. will ask for a Brecht book that he cannot find. Wiesler is seen reading that book in his own home; he has taken it. "It was a day in blue September when, under the shade of a young plum tree, I held my pale love in my arms..." he reads, lying on the sofa, his head resting on one side, without a cushion. Clearly an uncomfortable position.

The expression on his face is the opposite of his usual, much warmer and more sensitive as he reads. He has breached a security rule by entering the house and taking an object; it could raise suspicions. There is a certain stoicism in trying to be physically comfortable. He is used to physical rigor—giving and receiving punishment.

D. receives a phone call. A writer friend who was on the blacklist has committed suicide. Moved, he takes a piece of music that his suicidal colleague gave him and plays it on the piano. Wiesler listens. The camera pans around the captain as his expression changes with the music.

The writer, while playing, recalls some words by Lenin about Beethoven's Appassionata: "If I keep listening, I won't finish the revolution." D. wonders: "Can a man listen to this music, really listen to it, and be a bad person?" Wiesler has listened to "for real."

(00.52.50) Wiesler meets a boy in the elevator, who asks him if he is from the Stasi. The boy explains that according to his father, the Stasi are bad men who put people in jail. With this clear definition, the captain begins by asking the boy: "What is your name...?" but he is interrupted and finishes the question with "<...ball?"

This marks a shift in Wiesler's behavior. He lets the opportunity to catch a "traitor" pass by, signaling the beginning of his transition from heteronomous thought to autonomous thought.

Wiesler listens to a conversation between the writer and his girlfriend. D. asks him not to go to the meeting with the minister, insisting that he doesn't need him. CMS responds that he, too, is "sleeping with the System" and that "it decides who is interpreting, who acts, and

who can direct." Wiesler seems moved by this exchange. The moment is interrupted when his relief arrives, leaving Wiesler's reaction unresolved. Wiesler hands over his headphones reluctantly. The relief promises him a detailed report, aware of Wiesler's hesitation in letting go. Wiesler begins to humanize and realize the internal mechanisms of the Party, which are increasingly corrupt and authoritarian. His hidden rebellion against the Party, represented by the minister as a symbol of nepotism, is taking shape.

Wiesler maintains an ambiguous stance. On one hand, his apparent acceptance of the orders from his superiors keeps him from the severe punishment that non-compliance would bring (at best, exclusion). On the other hand, he manipulates actions in subtle ways, using the power of his position to undermine the authority he is meant to enforce.

(00.59.25) Wiesler leaves his shift, visibly disturbed, and finds himself in a bar, almost without realizing it, bumping into a passerby. Shortly after, CMS enters and sits down next to him. The captain approaches, speaking to him as if he were an admiring fan. "I am your audience," he tells him.

He returns to his shift and reads the report: CMS has returned home without seeing the minister. A personal victory for Wiesler, against both authoritarianism and his own feelings.

(01.09.51) Wiesler overhears a conversation about a plan to smuggle someone across the Wall in the trunk of a car. The conversation jokes about the Stasi's incompetence in stopping such acts. It's a test to check if the house is bugged. If they catch the escapee, they’ll confirm that they were right. Teasing the Stasi's inefficiency riles Wiesler up, and he makes a call to the border guard. However, he doesn't complete it—at least not this time.

This scene illustrates Wiesler’s response to provocations. If his competence is doubted, especially if mocked, he becomes reactive, striving to prove his capability while punishing those who challenge him. However, in this instance, he is able to contain his impulse, and the action-reaction dynamic is interrupted.

In subsequent scenes, Wiesler omits important details in his reports.

Wiesler has an argument with his subordinate, questioning the meaning of a conversation where D. plans to write an article that will be censored in the GDR. Wiesler tries to downplay the situation, and when his colleague grows suspicious, Wiesler remarks, "You think too much. Aren't you an intellectual?" The other strongly denies it (there was no need), and Wiesler advises him: "Let your superiors do the thinking."

He is authoritarian with his subordinate, though his tone is far from what he would use with his superiors. This highlights Wiesler's dual nature: submission and authoritarianism. He uses the System’s tools to favor the weaker party while subtly rebelling against it.

(01.19.52) Wiesler visits a superior to report on a seditious plot involving the conspirators. At the last moment, after discovering the harsh punishment D. would face upon arrest, Wiesler changes his stance. He requests less surveillance, taking the wiretapping into his own hands. His superior becomes suspicious, sensing Wiesler is withholding something. The captain maintains the tension but says nothing more.

Wiesler's quiet rebellion continues as he withholds key information, manipulates facts, and operates outside official instructions. He begins to protect individuals who, from a non-paranoid viewpoint, haven't actually done anything dangerous to the System. Slowly, he begins to move away from the preemptive paranoia of persecution.

Self-control, reserve, defensiveness, and rumination define his inner state. His focus shifts, but his attitude remains the same: sacrificial, yet no longer unconditionally loyal.

Wiesler is called to interrogate CMS, who has been arrested for possessing illegal drugs—a trap set by the vindictive minister. He is ordered to extract information on the location of the typewriter used for the article that was illegally published outside the country. His superior asks if he still supports the right side. Wiesler responds, "Yes."

The interrogation is effective. Wiesler musters all his manipulative skills to force CMS into revealing the information. This demonstrates Wiesler's ambivalence toward authority. He works diligently to get CMS to confess but doesn't seem pleased. He maintains his role as a loyal official while secretly planning to prevent D.'s arrest from the tip-off. Though successful, Wiesler is suspected and demoted.

In the final scene, Wiesler is shown working in a post office—a mundane and repetitive job. His posture is impassive, his expression neutral. He performs his task robotically, devoid of any visible rebellion. He remains obedient, fulfilling his duties with a sense of detachment.