Note: In my most overtly political post, I discuss the Nazi decrees that led my father and a relative by marriage to become stateless. I consider this topic in the context of my ongoing German citizenship application process permitted by German law as a descendant of my father who was “deprived” of his German nationality in 1941.
Related Posts:
POST 26: “APATRIDE” (STATELESS)
After many years contemplating applying for German citizenship, I recently started assembling the notarized documents to make this a reality. I had always intended to do this as a practical exercise that I could then write about on my blog. However, the current uncivil body politic here in America makes this more imperative than ever. To those who say, “fascism can never happen in America,” I merely remind readers this is what many German Jews said after Hitler was appointed Chancellor by President Paul von Hindenburg on the 30th of January 1933. The phrase “those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it” comes to mind. I choose to be prepared.
The initiation of my German citizenship application has me thinking about how my father, Dr. Otto Bruck, and Ernst Mombert, subject of my previous Post 165, came to be referred to as “apatride,” the French word for stateless. This term is used on both of their official contemporary French documents.
Some context is helpful.
Germany’s Federal Office of Administration provides information on the statutory basis for “naturalization on grounds of restoration of German citizenship after deprivation.” Pursuant to Article 116(2) of the Basic Law (Grundgesetz, GG) of the Federal Republic of Germany, persons who were “deprived” of their German citizenship by the National Socialists between 1933 and 1945 are entitled to naturalization. This means that the persons had been German citizens and were deprived of this citizenship in the National Socialist era or that a naturalization that had taken place between 1918 and 1933 was revoked.
As defined in Article 116(2) GG (Grundgesetz), persons are deemed to have been “deprived” of their German citizenship on political, racial, or religious grounds whenever this citizenship was either:
- lost automatically pursuant to Section 2 of the 11th Decree Implementing the Reich Citizens Act of 25 November 1941; or
- deprived on an individual basis under the Act on Revocation of Naturalizations and Deprivation of German Citizenship of 14 July 1933.
Such people and their descendants have been entitled to naturalization by the GG since 24 May 1949.
In the case of the 1933 act, individual cases of deprivation of German citizenship were published in the Reich Gazette (Reichsanzeiger). With respect to the 1941 decree, this applied to all German citizens of Jewish faith who had their habitual residence abroad when the ordinance entered into force or later resided abroad. It’s on this basis that I qualify to apply for German citizenship through descent from my father.
As a sidebar, I would note that incorporation of “revocation of naturalizations” in the title of the 1933 Act is particularly pertinent as I listen to the current vitriol being spewed from fascist-loving cultists anxious to return to the past. I’m reminded of another saying, often attributed to Edmund Burke, “The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.”
As mentioned above, Hitler was appointed German Chancellor on the 30th of January 1933. It’s not clear precisely when Ernst Mombert, a relative by marriage, left Germany nor what profession he was engaged in at the time. However, by November 1933, Ernst had purchased a fruit farm in Fayence (Var), France, and essentially became a farmer. Because the circumstances related to the application of the 1933 Act all related to naturalizations that took place between 1918 and 1933, this Act would not have applied to Ernst Mombert nor deprived him of his German citizenship. I think he would not have lost his citizenship until the 25 November 1941 Act was passed.
My father’s circumstances were different though I think he too became stateless under the Reich Citizens Act of 25 November 1941. In the early 1930s, my father Dr. Otto Bruck (Figure 1) was a dental apprentice in the Free City of Danzig, and I believe was briefly living with his aunt Hedwig Loewenstein, nee Bruck (Figure 2), and cousins in Danzig [today: Gdansk, Poland]. By April 9, 1932, he had opened his own dental practice in nearby Tiegenhof [today: Nowy Dwór Gdański, Poland], also located within the Free City of Danzig. My father’s surviving 1932 Day Planner gives the precise day he arrived in Tiegenhof.
Just a brief footnote. While “Free City of Danzig” and “Free State of Danzig” are often used interchangeably, the key difference lies in the level of precision. “Free City” is generally considered the more accurate term, as it specifically refers to Danzig as a self-governing city-state under the protection of the League of Nations after WWI, whereas “Free State” implies a slightly larger, more autonomous territory encompassing the city and surrounding areas, though this interpretation is less common in historical context. Throughout this post, I use “Free City.”
By my calculation, my father lived in the Free City between ca. 1930-1932 until 1937. Theoretically, he would have had two options vis-à-vis citizenship. He could have retained his German citizenship or opted to become a citizen of the Free City, a so-called Danziger. Given that he lived and worked in the Free City, logically he would eventually have become a citizen there, but for the war. However, Free City citizenship does not appear to have been a precondition for owning and operating a business there. More on this below.
The gentleman at the German Embassy assisting me with my German citizenship application sent me a copy of a so-called “Optionsurkunde” that documented the switch from Danziger to German Reich for another individual applying for German citizenship. (Figure 3) He asked me to look for such a document among my father’s surviving papers, but if he ever switched nationality no such document survives. According to the official from the German Embassy, copies of these Optionsurkunden in the archives were likely destroyed during the war making it impossible for me to know for sure whether my father became a Danziger.
Had my father become a Danziger, I presume he could have held dual citizenship. I base this assumption on the fact that he had driver’s licenses simultaneously from both the German Reich and the Free City in 1935, the pair of which are in my possession. (Figures 4a-b; 5a-b)
Curious whether the Optionsurkunden might have survived, I recalled a Ms. Regina Stein, a German provenance researcher of museum collections in Berlin, who’d assisted me in 2021 on another matter. I misremembered her as a forensic genealogist. Regardless, I contacted her asking whether she’d ever come across such documents. Unfamiliar with them, Regina reached out to her network of colleagues involved in genealogical research.
One of her associates, Ms. Sabine Ruks, responded. She provided information that at least in my mind clarifies my father’s situation with respect to whether he ever became a Danziger. Beyond that, however, her analysis places my father’s situation in terms of citizenship in a broader temporal and geopolitical framework. Let me explain.
My father was born in 1907 in Ratibor, Germany [today: Racibórz, Poland] in Upper Silesia. Following Germany’s defeat during WWI, the terms of the Versailles Treaty mandated that a plebiscite be conducted in Upper Silesia. This referendum was intended to determine ownership of the province between Weimar Germany, the constitutional federal republic that existed between 1918 and 1933, and Poland; the region was ethnically mixed with both Germans and Poles. The outcome of the plebiscite, which was marred by violence, was that Upper Silesia was divided. The eastern part of the province went to Poland, while the western part, including Ratibor, remained German. Therefore, the question of my father opting for German nationality following the plebiscite never arose.
My Bruck family lived in Berlin from at least 1927 onwards. Clearly, this would not have raised any option (Optionsurkunde). My father’s move to the Free City of Danzig should likewise not have raised this either, although this question requires further examination.
The Free City of Danzig was ceded by the German Reich on November 15, 1920, and placed under the protection of the League of Nations. Poland took over the foreign policy representation. Therefore, passports were marked with “Citizenship: Free City of Poland.”
The Free City of Danzig ceased to exist after Germany invaded Poland on the 1st of September 1939, followed shortly thereafter by the absorption of the Free City into the German Reich. Made up mostly of Germans and governed by a largely pro-Nazi government, Danzigers welcomed Nazi incorporation into the German Reich.
From September 1, 1939, the law on the reunification of the Free City of Danzig with the German Reich made them “Germans in accordance with detailed regulations.” As Sabine Ruks notes, “Until then, a foreigner could obtain Danzig citizenship if he or she had lived there for five consecutive years before applying (from January 11, 1920, at the earliest). Otto Bruck lived in the city-state from at least 1932 and could therefore have applied for the first time around 1938, in this case to the Danzig authorities. But even if that had been the case, he would have become German again by law on September 1, 1939.” (Sabine Ruks, personal communication)
Regardless, by September 1939, my father had long quit Tiegenhof and was in Algeria with the French Foreign Legion. While not relevant to my father since he had long-ago left Germany and had already become stateless as of 25 November 1941, the loss of Germany’s eastern territories after WWII did not affect the citizenship of Germans who’d fled from there: they continued to retain German nationality.
I want to end this post by discussing one of my father’s maternal cousins, a man named Ernst Berliner (i.e., Berliner was my paternal grandmother’s maiden name), who also became stateless. (Figures 6a-b)
Ernst was the subject of Post 92. In connection with that earlier post, years ago I came upon his name in an ancestry database, entitled “Germany, Index of Jews Whose Nationality was Annulled by Nazi Regime, 1935-1944.” This database is described as follows in ancestry:
“This is a collection of individual index cards of Jews who had their German nationality annulled by the Nazis. The records were created when German citizenship was revoked because of the anti-Semitic Nuremberg Laws of 1935. The laws spelled out exactly who was considered Jewish and who was allowed German citizenship and its accompanying rights. The Nuremberg Laws also prevented Jews from marrying those of German descent.
These records were filmed from index cards at the Berlin Document Center in 1959. The records have some suffix names added, Israel for men and Sara for women, which were used to readily identify Jews. The records include information on:
- Name
- Birth Date
- Birthplace
- Occupation
- Last address”
Confused as to the overlap in dates and the varying authorities depriving Jews of German nationality, I asked a German friend and my contact at the German Embassy about these things. They explained that while the names of Jews whose nationality was annulled between 1935 and 1944 because of the Nuremberg Laws of 1935 were ALSO published in the Reichsanzeiger, such individuals and their descendants claim restoration of German nationality under a different authority, specifically Section 15 of the German Nationality Act (Staatsangehörigkeitsgesetz, StAG). In the case of Ernst Berliner, his name was published on the 23rd of February 1938 issue of the Reichsanzeiger. (Figures 7a-b)
Pursuant to Section 15 StAG, persons who lost their German citizenship in some way other than because of the 1933 and 1945 decrees or who were never able to acquire German citizenship due to Nazi persecution and their descendants can become German citizens. Suffice it to say, this provision benefits in particular persons who lost their German citizenship after their flight, for instance, by virtue of a foreign citizenship or through marriage with a foreign national. Compared to naturalizations under the GG which have been in effect since 24 May 1949, naturalizations under StAG have only been permitted since 20 August 2021.
I know of several friends and relatives who’ve applied for German nationality, several successfully. An advantage I have stems from having worked and written about my family’s history for over ten years, so I am generally familiar where the original vital certificates are located that have not been digitized. Case in point, as we speak, I’m trying to obtain a certified copy of my father’s birth certificate from the archives in the town where my father was born. I’m also eligible to apply for French nationality through my mother. A German passport would allow me unrestricted stays in countries that are members of the European Union, so if the EU continues to exist there is no obvious advantage to obtaining French nationality. Still, as an intellectual exercise it might be an interesting challenge.
