This story was co-produced with Latterly
As a teenager in the 1960s, Israel Kaunatjike joined the fight against apartheid in his native Namibia˳ He couldn’t have known that his activism would take him across the globe, to Berlin—the very place where his homeland’s problems started˳
Back then, Europeans called Kaunatjike’s home South-West Africa—and it was European names that carried the most weight; tribal names, or even the name Namibia, had no place in the official taxonomy˳ Black and white people shared a country, yet they weren’t allowed to live in the same neighborhoods or patronize the same businesses˳ That, says Kaunatjike, was verboten˳
A few decades after German immigrants staked their claim over South-West Africa in the late 19th century, the region came under the administration of the South African government, thanks to a provision of the League of Nations charter˳ This meant that Kaunatjike’s homeland was controlled by descendants of Dutch and British colonists—white rulers who, in 1948, made apartheid the law of the land˳ Its shadow stretched from the Indian Ocean to the Atlantic, covering an area larger than Britain, France, and Germany combined˳
“Our fight was against the regime of South Africa,” says Kaunatjike, now a 68-year-old resident of Berlin˳ “We were labeled terrorists˳”
During the 1960s, hundreds of anti-apartheid protesters were killed, and thousands more were thrown in jail˳ As the South African government tightened its fist, many activists decided to flee˳ “I left Namibia illegally in 1964,” says Kaunatjike˳ “I couldn’t go back˳”
He was just 17 years old˳
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Kaunatjike is sitting in his living room in a quiet corner of Berlin, the city where he’s spent more than half his life˳ He has a light beard and wears glasses that make him look studious˳ Since his days fighting apartheid, his hair has turned white˳ “I feel very at home in Berlin,” he says˳
Which is a bit ironic, when you consider that in the 1880s, just a few miles from Kaunatjike’s apartment, the German Kaiser Wilhelm II ordered the invasion of South-West Africa˳ This makes his journey a strange sort of homecoming˳
The battle that Kaunatjike fought as a teen and arguably still fights today, against the cycle of oppression that culminated in apartheid, began with a brutal regime established by the German empire˳ It ought to be recognized as such—and with help from Kaunatjike, it might˳
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Germans first reached the arid shores of southwestern Africa in the mid-1800s˳ Travelers had been stopping along the coast for centuries, but this was the start of an unprecedented wave of European intervention in Africa˳ Today we know it as the Scramble for Africa˳
In 1884, German chancellor Otto von Bismarck convened a meeting of European powers known as the Berlin Conference˳ Though the conference determined the future of an entire continent, not a single black African was invited to participate˳ Bismarck declared South-West Africa a German colony suitable not only for trade but for European settlement˳ Belgium’s King Leopold, meanwhile seized the Congo, and France claimed control of West Africa˳
The German flag soon became a beacon for thousands of colonists in southern Africa—and a symbol of fear for local tribes, who had lived there for millennia˳ Missionaries were followed by merchants, who were followed by soldiers˳ The settlers asserted their control by seizing watering holes, which were crucial in the parched desert˳ As colonists trickled inland, local wealth—in the form of minerals, cattle, and agriculture—trickled out˳
Indigenous people didn’t accept all this willingly˳ Some German merchants did trade peacefully with locals˳ But like Belgians in the Congo and the British in Australia, the official German policy was to seize territory that Europeans considered empty, when it most definitely was not˳ There were 13 tribes living in Namibia, of which two of the most powerful were the Nama and the Herero˳ (Kaunatjike is Herero˳)
Germans were tolerated partly because they seemed willing to involve themselves as intermediaries between warring local tribes˳ But in practice, their treaties were dubious, and when self-interest benefitted the Germans, they stood by idly˳ The German colonial governor at the turn of the 20th century, Theodor Leutwein, was pleased as local leadership began to splinter˳ According to Dutch historian Jan-Bart Gewald, for instance, Leutwein gladly offered military support to controversial chiefs, because violence and land seizure among Africans worked to his advantage˳ These are all tactics familiar to students of United States history, where European colonists decimated and dispossessed indigenous populations˳
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When Kaunatjike was a child, he heard only fragments of this history˳ His Namibian schoolteachers taught him that when the Germans first came to southern Africa, they built bridges and wells˳ There were faint echoes of a more sinister story˳ A few relatives had fought the Germans, for example, to try and protect the Herero tribe˳ His Herero tribe˳
Kaunatjike’s roots are more complicated than that, however˳ Some of his relatives had been on the other side—including his own grandfathers˳ He never met either of them, because they were both German colonists˳
“Today, I know that my grandfather was named Otto Mueller,” says Kaunatjike˳ “I know where he’s buried in Namibia˳”
During apartheid, he explains, blacks were forcibly displaced to poorer neighborhoods, and friendships with whites were impossible˳ Apartheid translates to “apartness” in Afrikaans˳ But many African women worked in German households˳ “Germans of course had relationships in secret with African women,” says Kaunatjike˳ “Some were raped˳” He isn’t sure what happened to his own grandmothers˳
After arriving in Germany, Kaunatjike started to read about the history of South-West Africa˳ It was a deeply personal story for him˳ “I was recognized as a political refugee, and as a Herero,” he says˳ He found that many Germans didn’t know their own country’s colonial past˳
But a handful of historians had uncovered a horrifying story˳ Some saw Germany’s behavior in South-West Africa as a precursor of German actions in the Holocaust˳ The boldest among them argued that South-West Africa was the site of the first genocide of the 20th century˳ “Our understanding of what Nazism was and where its underlying ideas and philosophies came from,” write David Olusoga and Casper W˳ Erichsen in their book The Kaiser’s Holocaust, “is perhaps incomplete unless we explore what happened in Africa under Kaiser Wilhelm II˳”
Kaunatjike is a calm man, but there’s a controlled anger in his voice as he explains˳ While German settlers forced indigenous tribes farther into the interior of South West Africa, German researchers treated Africans as mere test subjects˳ Papers published in German medical journals used skull measurements to justify calling Africans Untermenschen—subhumans˳ “Skeletons were brought here,” says Kaunatjike˳ “Graves were robbed˳”
If these tactics sound chillingly familiar, that’s because they were also used in Nazi Germany˳ The connections don’t end there˳ One scientist who studied race in Namibia was a professor of Josef Mengele—the infamous “Angel of Death” who conducted experiments on Jews in Auschwitz˳ Heinrich Goering, the father of Hitler’s right-hand man, was colonial governor of German South-West Africa˳
The relationship between Germany’s colonial history and its Nazi history is still a matter of debate˳ (For example, the historians Isabel Hull and Birthe Kundrus have questioned the term genocide and the links between between Nazism and mass violence in Africa˳) But Kaunatjike believes that past is prologue, and that Germany’s actions in South-West Africa can’t be disentangled from its actions during World War II˳ “What they did in Namibia, they did with Jews,” says Kaunatjike˳ “It’s the same, parallel history˳”
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For the tribes in South-West Africa, everything changed in 1904˳ Germany’s colonial regime already had an uneasy relationship with local tribes˳ Some German arrivals depended on locals who raised cattle and sold them land˳ They even enacted a rule that protected Herero land holdings˳ But the ruling was controversial: many German farmers felt that South-West Africa was theirs for the taking˳
Disputes with local tribes escalated into violence˳ In 1903, after a tribal disagreement over the price of a goat, German troops intervened and shot a Nama chief in an ensuing scuffle˳ In retaliation, Nama tribesmen shot three German soldiers˳ Meanwhile, armed colonists were demanding that the rule protecting Herero land holdings be overturned, wanting to force Herero into reservations˳
Soon after, in early 1904, the Germans opened aggressive negotiations that aimed to drastically shrink Herero territory, but the chiefs wouldn’t sign˳ They refused to be herded into a small patch of unfamiliar territory that was badly suited for grazing˳ Both sides built up their military forces˳ According to Olusoga and Erichsen’s book, in January of that year, two settlers claimed to have seen Herero preparing for an attack—and colonial leaders sent a telegram to Berlin announcing an uprising, though no fighting had broken out˳
It isn’t clear who fired the first shots˳ But German soldiers and armed settlers were initially outnumbered˳ The Herero attacked a German settlement, destroying homes and railroad tracks, and eventually killing several farmers˳
When Berlin received word of the collapse of talks—and the death of white German subjects—Kaiser Wilhelm II sent not only new orders but a new leader to South-West Africa˳ Lieutenant General Lothar von Trotha took over as colonial governor, and with his arrival, the rhetoric of forceful negotiations gave way to the rhetoric of racial extermination˳ Von Trotha issued an infamous order called the Vernichtungsbefehl—an extermination order˳
“The Herero are no longer German subjects,” read von Trotha’s order˳ “The Herero people will have to leave the country˳ If the people refuse I will force them with cannons to do so˳ Within the German boundaries, every Herero, with or without firearms, with or without cattle, will be shot˳ I won’t accommodate women and children anymore˳ I shall drive them back to their people or I shall give the order to shoot at them˳”
German soldiers surrounded Herero villages˳ Thousands of men and women were taken from their homes and shot˳ Those who escaped fled into the desert—and German forces guarded its borders, trapping survivors in a wasteland without food or water˳ They poisoned wells to make the inhuman conditions even worse—tactics that were already considered war crimes under the Hague Convention, which were first agreed to in 1899˳ (German soldiers would use the same strategy a decade later, when they poisoned wells in France during World War I˳)
In the course of just a few years, 80 percent of the Herero tribe died, and many survivors were imprisoned in forced labor camps˳ After a rebellion of Nama fighters, these same tactics were used against Nama men, women, and children˳ In a colony where indigenous people vastly outnumbered the thousands of German settlers, the numbers are staggering: about 65,000 Herero and 10,000 Nama were murdered˳
Images from the period make it difficult not to think of the Holocaust˳ The survivors’ chests and cheeks are hollowed out from the slow process of starvation˳ Their ribs and shoulders jut through their skin˳ These are the faces of people who suffered German rule and barely survived˳ This is a history that Kaunatjike inherited˳
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German colonial rule ended a century ago, when Imperial Germany lost World War I˳ But only after Namibia gained independence from South Africa in 1990 did the German government really begin to acknowledge the systematic atrocity that had happened there˳ Although historians used the word genocide starting in the 1970s, Germany officially refused to use the term˳
Progress has been slow˳ Exactly a century after the killings began, in 2004, the German development minister declared that her country was guilty of brutality in South West Africa˳ But according to one of Kaunatjike’s fellow activists, Norbert Roeschert, the German government avoided formal responsibility˳
In a striking contrast with the German attitude toward the Holocaust, which some schoolteachers start to cover in the 3rd grade, the government used a technicality to avoid formally apologizing for genocide in South-West Africa˳
“Their answer was the same over the years, just with little changes,” says Roeschert, who works for the Berlin-based nonprofit AfrikAvenir˳ “Saying that the Genocide Convention was put in place in 1948, and cannot be applied retroactively˳”
For activists and historians, Germany’s evasiveness, that genocide wasn’t yet an international crime in the early 1900s, was maddening˳ Roeschert believes the government avoided the topic on pragmatic grounds, because historically, declarations of genocide are closely followed by demands for reparations˳ This has been the case with the Holocaust, the Armenian Genocide, and the Rwandan Genocide˳
Kaunatjike is a witness and an heir to Namibia’s history, but his country’s story been doubly neglected˳ First, historical accounts of apartheid tend to place overwhelming emphasis on South Africa˳ Second, historical accounts of genocide focus so intently on the Holocaust that it’s easy to forget that colonial history preceded and perhaps foreshadowed the events of World War II˳
This might finally be changing, however˳ Intense focus on the centennial of the Armenian Genocide also drew attention to brutality in European colonies˳ A decade of activism helped change the conversation in Germany, too˳ Protesters in Germany had some success pressuring universities to send Herero human remains back to Namibia; one by one, German politicians began talking openly about genocide˳
Perhaps the greatest breakthrough came this summer˳ In July, the president of the German parliament, Norbert Lammert, in an article for the newspaper Die Zeit, described the killing of Herero and Nama as Voelkermord˳ Literally, this translates to “the murder of a people”—genocide˳ Lammert called it a “forgotten chapter” in history that Germans have a moral responsibility to remember˳
“We waited a long time for this,” says Kaunatjike˳ “And that from the mouth of the president of the Bundestag˳ That was sensational for us˳”
“And then we thought—now it really begins˳ It will go further,” Kaunatjike says˳ The next step is an official apology from Germany—and then a dialogue between Namibia, Germany, and Herero representatives˳ Germany has so far balked at demands for reparations, but activists will no doubt make the case˳ They want schoolchildren to know this story, not only in Germany but also in Namibia˳
For Kaunatjike, there are personal milestones to match the political ones˳ 2015 year marks 25 years of Namibian independence˳ In November, Kaunatjike plans to visit his birthplace˳ “I want to go to my old village, where I grew up,” he says˳ He’ll visit an older generation of Namibians who remember a time before apartheid˳ But he also plans to visit his grandfather’s grave˳ He never met any of his German family, and he often wonders what role they played in the oppression of Namibians˳
When Kaunatjike’s journey started half a century ago, the two lines of his family were kept strictly separate˳ As time went on, however, his roots grew tangled˳ Today he has German roots in Namibia and Namibian roots in Germany˳ He likes it that way˳
Kaunatjike sometimes wishes he spent less time on campaigns and interviews, so he’d have more time to spend with his children˳ But they’re also the reason he’s still an activist˳ “My children have to know my story,” he says˳ He has grandchildren now, too˳ Their mother tongue is German˳ And unlike Kaunatjike himself, they know what kind of a man their grandfather is˳