Jones' Autobiography (1972)
Over the years I have kept a strange secret. I share this silence with 200 students. Yesterday, I ran into one of the students. For a moment of trance, I felt that time had returned to the past.
Steve Gonigio was a sophomore in my world history class. We met completely by accident. It was one of the most unexpected occasions for teachers - you were walking down the street, eating at a secluded little restaurant, or shopping for underwear, when a former student popped up to say hello. This time, it was Steve running down the street, shouting "Mr. Jones, Mr. Jones". We hugged awkwardly and greeted each other. I have to think back for a while. Who is this young man hugging me? He called me "Mr. Jones," which must have been a former student. But what's his name? Between my quick recollections, Steve sensed my doubts and took a step back. Then he smiled and slowly raised one hand into a sunken position. Omg! He is a member of the "Third Wave"! That's Steve, Steve Conigio. He sits in the second row. He was a sensitive student who played the guitar and loved the theatre.
We just stood there, smiling at each other, and I unconsciously raised my hand in a crooked position. This salute is flexible. The two colleagues met long after the war. The "third wave" still exists. "Mr. Jones, do you remember the 'Third Wave'?" Of course I do, and that was one of the most frightening events I've ever experienced in a classroom. That is also the source of the secret that I will share sadly with 200 students for the rest of my life.
For the next few hours, we laughed and talked about the "third wave." Then it's time to part. That feels weird. You meet former students in this way. You capture moments in your own life. Hold them tight. Then say goodbye. I don't know when you will even see each other next time. Oh, you promised to call each other, but you didn't. Steve will continue to grow and change. I am Mr Jones. Steve turned around and gave me a silent salute. Lift your arms up into a curved wave shape. I also bent my arms in a similar way and bowed back to him.
"Third Wave". Well, in the end it looks like it can still be talked about. Here I met a student and we talked for hours about this nightmare. The secret must eventually fade - it took three years. I can tell you, and tell anyone, about the "third wave." Now, it's just a dream, something to be remembered, not something we're trying to forget. That's how it started - I think it was a question Steve asked that happened to start the "third wave".
We were studying Nazi Germany at the time; my lecture was interrupted by this question: "Why do the Germans claim that they did not know about the slaughter of Jews? The facts about concentration camps and genocide? Why do some people who are neighbors or even friends of the Jews say they were not there when these things happened?" That's a good question, and I don't even know how to answer it.
There were still a few months left in the school year, and I had been through World War II. Under the circumstances, I decided to spend a week exploring this problem.
"Discipline Casts Strength"
On Monday, I introduced my sophomore history students to an experience that displayed a hallmark of Nazism—discipline. I explained the beauty of discipline. How does an athlete train hard and regularly to be successful in a sport? How hard does a ballet dancer or a painter work to make a movement perfect? And the patience of scientists in pursuit of an idea. This is discipline. It is self-discipline, control, the power of will, the physical hardships that go into attaining superior mental and physical abilities, and the ultimate victory.
To experience the power of discipline, I invited—no, I ordered the entire class to practice and adopt a new style of seating. I shed light on how good sitting posture can help enforce concentration and increase willpower. In fact, it is in this sitting position that I direct the class. This sitting position requires keeping your feet flat on the ground and placing your hands flat behind your back to enforce a straight spine. "Don't you feel that you can breathe more easily? You are becoming more alert and agile. Don't you feel better?"
We practice this same posture over and over again. In the aisles around the seated students, I paced up and down, pointing out their little flaws and making them improve. Good sitting posture becomes the most important aspect of learning. I dismissed the class, allowed them to leave their seats, and then unexpectedly called them back and took their seats in this correct sitting position. In this quick exercise, the class learned to go from standing to sitting in this sitting position in under 15 seconds. In a tight exercise, I constantly emphasize parallel feet, flat on the floor, ankles locked, knees square, hands crossed, flat behind your back, spine straight, jaw tucked, and head forward. We also did noise exercises, in which speaking could only be done during the next few minutes of practice tasks, and they continued to progress, and the class was able to go from standing outside to sitting in their own seat without a word. This maneuver takes only 5 seconds.
How strange - how quickly students embraced this uniform program behavior! I'm starting to wonder, how deep can they be driven? Is this display of obedience just a temporary game we are playing, or is it something else? Is this desire for discipline and consistency an instinctive need? A social instinct that we hide in franchised restaurants* and TV programming?
[*franchise restaurants: Originally titled franchise restaurants - Translator's Note]
I decided to push the class's endurance a step further into a tightly controlled movement. During the last 25 minutes of class, I introduced several new rules. Students must sit upright in the classroom before the bell rings; they must bring pencils and paper to take notes; students must stand at a desk and begin with "Mr. Jones" before asking or answering a question . We also practiced "silent reading" workshops. Those who answered slackly and slowly were reprimanded and repeated until they showed typical norms and respect.
The intensity and speed of the responses are more important than the content of the responses themselves. To reinforce this, I require that all responses be limited to 3 words (words). Students who made the effort to ask or answer questions were rewarded. Also, they are recognized and praised for their clean and well-mannered behavior. Before long, the whole class was actively asking or answering questions. The level of participation in the class has expanded from the few students who used to dominate the discussion process to the whole class. Even the first-time students have gradually improved in the quality of their responses. Everyone seems to be listening more attentively. Newcomers are also speaking. The responses began to lengthen, as students who were usually hesitant to speak also found support for their efforts.
As for my participation in this exercise - I'm just asking questions. Why didn't I think of this trick before? Students appeared to be more attentive to the tasks they were given, and were able to accurately retell facts and concepts. Even they asked questions at a higher level and treated each other more compassionately. How could this be? Here, I created an authoritarian learning atmosphere, which seemed very productive. Now I'm starting to ponder, not how deep this class can be driven, but how much my concept of open classrooms and self-selective learning will change. Are my beliefs about Carl Rogers about to wither and die? Where will this experiment go?
[*Carl Rogers: Carl Ransom Rogers (1902-1987), American psychologist, representative of contemporary humanistic psychology. --Translator's Note]
On
Tuesday, the second day of the experiment, I walked into the classroom and found that everyone was sitting quietly in that correct sitting posture. Some of them had relaxed smiles on their faces, a smile that came from pleasing their teachers. But most students are very serious, looking straight ahead. The neck muscles are stiff. No signs of a smile, no thoughts, not even a question. For this action, each bundle of fibers is taut. To ease the tension, I went to the chalkboard and wrote in capital letters: "Discipline Creates Strength." Below it, I wrote a second rule: "Unity Forge Strength".
As the class sat in this frozen silence, I began to teach my lesson on the value of group. At this stage of the game, I was debating intensely within me whether to end the experiment or continue. I hadn't planned for such a strong level of obedience before. In fact, I am amazed that this idea of discipline can be implemented in this way. While I was debating whether to stop or continue, I kept talking about the group. I make up stories based on my experiences as an athlete, coach and historian. this is very simple. A group is the bond that exists between individuals who work and struggle together. It's about building a barn with your neighbors. You feel like you are part of something other than yourself—a sport, a team, a game*, and a motivation, goal, or cause.
[*Contest: Originally in La Paza, in Spanish. --Translator's Note
: It's too late to step back. I now understand why astronomers always look to the telescope relentlessly. I probed deeper and deeper into the driving forces of group and individual behavior, and developed my own views. There is still much to see and to understand. Many questions lingered in my mind. Why are students able to accept the image of authority I impose on them? Where is their curiosity or resistance to this supreme commander-like behavior? When and how will this all end?
After I described things about groups, I reiterated to the class that, like discipline, unity must be experienced in order to understand it. To give them a chance to meet the group, I asked the class to recite: "Discipline creates strength" and "Unity creates strength." First, I asked two students to stand up and ask them to recall our motto. Then, join two more students until the whole class stands up and recites. It's interesting. The students began to look at each other and felt the power of belonging. Everyone is capable and equal. What do they do together. We devote the entire class to doing these simple movements. We recite the aphorisms in unison, in cycles; or, at different volumes. We always spoke together, emphasizing the proper way of sitting, standing, and speaking.
I started to think of myself as part of the experiment. I love the uniform movement that the students are showing. It's so rewarding to see them so content and motivated to do more. I find it harder and harder to separate myself from the kind of momentum and consistency that the class is developing. I am governed by this group, just as I am leading it.
Towards the end of class time, I created a class etiquette without thinking. This is for members of this class only. To perform this salute, raise the right hand in a bent position toward the right shoulder. I call it "the Third Wave salute" because the hand here is like a big wave about to break. The idea of "three" comes from the knowledge related to the seashore, that the waves come in a ring, and in each group of waves. The third wave is the last and the most powerful. Now that the etiquette is in place, I stipulate that it should be used to greet any member of the class outside of the classroom. When the bell rang, I kept the class in complete silence. Everyone sat solemnly, and I slowly raised my arms and saluted them in a crooked position. It's a silent identification mark, something special. There was no order, but the whole class returned the salute.
Students in this class will greet each other with this for the next few days. You may be walking down the hall when three students suddenly walk up to you, each giving a lightning-quick salute. In the library and gymnasium, students can also be seen doing this bizarre, hand-swinging dance. You may also hear the bumping of buffet food after two students salute each other. Thirty people do this strange swirling, and the mystery soon draws more attention to the class and to this experiment on German personalities. Many students outside the class asked if they could join.
Action Casts Strength On
Wednesday, I decided to give each student who wanted to continue what I called the experiment a membership card. No one has decided to leave this classroom. Now, on the third day of the event, there are 43 students in the classroom. Thirteen of the students skipped class to participate in the experiment. When the class was seated properly, I gave everyone a card. I marked each of 3 of them with a red "X" and told those who received the three cards that they had a special task - to report to me those who were not following class discipline. Next, I proceed to elaborate further on the meaning of the action. I told them that without action, discipline and unity would be meaningless. I discuss the beauty of taking full responsibility for an action. Because you believe so completely in yourself, and your family or team, you will do anything to maintain them, defend them, and expand them. I highlighted how hard work and mutual loyalty can lead to faster learning and achievement. I remind my students what it's like to be in a class when they get hurt and shame in a game; a situation where students are fighting each other from the gym to reading; The feeling of not being part of something, never supporting each other.
No one prompts them, but at this point the students all stand up and express their praise and gratitude. "Mr. Jones, I've learned so much for the first time." "Mr. Jones, why don't you teach like this all the time?" I was shocked! Yes, I've been feeding them messages in an extremely controlled setting, but the fact that they're comfortable and accepting of it is starting to show. It is perplexing and disturbing to realize that it takes time and energy to write homework on German personalities—tasks that are over-completed or even over-completed by students. Students' performance in study skills improved significantly. They are learning more. And they seem to want more. I started to think that the students might do whatever I assign them. I decided to find out.
To provide the students with a hands-on experience, I verbally assigned each one a task. "Your task is to design the 'Third Wave' banner." "You are responsible for not letting any non-'Third Wave' members into the classroom." "I want you to remember and be able to recite every 'Third Wave' member by tomorrow. The names and addresses of the Three Waves' members." "You are responsible for persuading at least 20 children in the nearby elementary school that our sitting position is necessary for better learning, and training them." "Your job is at the end of the class. Read this booklet before and report its entire contents to the class." "I want each of you to give me the name and address of a trusted friend you think might join the 'Third Wave.'"… …
To end this hands-on assembly, I instructed the students a simple step-by-step process for bringing in new members. It goes like this: a new member just needs an introduction from an old member and I issue a membership card. Upon receiving this membership card, the new member must immediately understand our various rules and pledge to obey them. My announcement sparked an enthusiasm.
The whole school was driven by speculation and curiosity. It affects everyone. School cooks ask what "third wave" cookies look like. I said, of course chocolate chips. Our code also made its way into an afternoon all-staff meeting where I received a "third wave salute"; I returned the salute. The librarian thanked me for the banner, which she hung above the library entrance as soon as she learned about it. *As of the end of the day, over 200 students have been approved to join the organization. I felt very lonely, even a little terrified.
[*Librarian...above: The original text is The Librarian thanked me for the 30' banner on learning which she placed above the library entrance. ——Translator's Note]
Most of my fears were under the influence of the "snoticing" incident manifested. Although I only officially designated 3 students to report misbehaving to me, about 20 students came to me and reported to me how Allan didn't salute or that Georgine said something critical of our experiments. This surveillance incident means that half of the students in the class have made it their duty to observe and report their classmates. In the midst of this sudden burst of reports, it seems a legitimate conspiracy is going on...
3 girls in the class told their parents about our classroom experiment. These three girls are by far the brightest students in the class. They are friends with each other. They have a silent trust and take pleasure in the background of the school that gives them academics and leadership. During the days of the experiment, I wondered how they would react to this egalitarian remodeling in the classroom. They were accustomed to being rewarded for success, and that reward no longer existed in this experiment. The intellectual capacity to question and infer was also absent from the experiments. In this belligerent atmosphere, they seemed stunned and gloomy. Looking back now, they acted a lot like those so-called "non-learning" children. They watch these activities and participate only in a mechanically indifferent way. Although everyone else rushed in, they controlled themselves and just watched.
After they told their parents about the experiment, there was a small chain of events. The Rabbi priest* of one of these parents called me at home. He was very polite and amiable. I told him that we were merely studying German personalities. He seemed pleasant and told me not to worry. He would talk to the parents to calm their concerns down a bit. After the call, I was reminded of similar conversations in history - pastors accepting or apologizing for untenable preconditions. How nice it would be if he lashed out, or simply investigated the situation! That way I could give the students examples of public defiance; but no. The Rabbi also became part of the experiment. He became a champion, an accomplice—and he kept me ignorant of the repressed sense of experimentation.
[* Rabbi priest: The original is rabbi. --Translator's Note:
By the end of the third day, I was exhausted. I am confused. The balance between role-playing and controlled behavior is indistinguishable. Many students have fully entered the state of being members of the "third wave". They demanded strict compliance from other students and intimidated those who took the experiment lightly. Others indulge in the activity, taking on self-assigned roles. I especially remember Robert. He is large for his age and hardly ever shows any learning skills. But to succeed, he tried harder than anyone else I knew. He turned in a very detailed weekly report, transcribed verbatim from reference books in the library. Like many of the kids at school, Robert was neither outstanding nor troublesome. They're not smart, can't play sports teams, and don't stand out for attention. They seem to disappear invisible and unnoticed. The only reason I came to know Robert was because I found him in the classroom for lunch. He always eats lunch alone.
And the "third wave" gave Robert a place in the school. At least he is equal to everyone. He can do something. participate. Significant. That's what Robert did. Late Wednesday afternoon, I found Robert following me and I asked him what the hell was he doing? He smiled (I don't think I've seen him smile before) and said, "Mr. Jones, I'm your bodyguard. I'm afraid something will happen to you. Can I do this, Mr. Jones?" Guaranteed with a smile, I couldn't refuse. I have bodyguards. He opens and closes doors for me all day. He always walks to my right, smiling and salutes the rest of the class. He follows me all the time and everywhere. In the staff lounge (no students allowed), he stood silently at the door while I gulped down my coffee. When a British teacher approached him and said he was a "student in the staff room," he simply smiled and told the staff he was not a student. He is a bodyguard.
"Glory forged Strength"
On Thursday, I began planning to end the experiment. I was tired and worried. Many students deviated. The "third wave" became the center of their lives. My own situation is pretty bad too. I now act instinctively as a sort of authoritarian commander. Oh, I am merciful. And, every day, I argue with myself about the benefits of this learning experiment. And just like that, on the fourth day of the experiment I started to lose my arguments. As I spent more and more time role-playing, I recalled less and less of the plausible origin and purpose of the experiment. I found that even when it wasn't necessary, I started to slide into the character itself. I wonder if there are many who are not like that. We take or assume a random role and then bend our life trajectory to fit that image. Before long, this image became the only identity others accepted. So we become this image. The problem with the situation and character I've created is that I don't have time to think about where it's going. Events around me are messy. I worry that students will do things they will regret. I also worry about myself.
I thought again, should I end the experiment, or let it go on its own? Both views are difficult to implement. If I stop the experiment, many students will be abandoned halfway. They have placed themselves ahead of their peers, caught up in radical behavior. Emotionally and psychologically, they have made themselves known. If I suddenly bring them back to the reality of the classroom, I'll be dealing with a bewildering group of students for the rest of the year. It's a pain to force students like Robert back into their seats and tell them it's just a game. They will be ridiculed by smarter students who engage in a measured way. I can't let the Roberts get lost again.
The other idea, letting it run its course, is even more unlikely. Things were already out of control. On Wednesday night, someone broke into the house and "looted" the place. I later found out that this was the father of a certain student. He was a retired Air Force colonel who had spent time in a German POW camp. As soon as he heard about our activities, he couldn't help himself, so he broke into the house at night and made a mess of it. I found him with his back against the classroom door in the morning. He told me about his comrades who died in Germany. He grabs me and keeps shaking. Intermittently, he begged me to understand him and send him home. I called his wife and he walked home with the help of a neighbor. For the next few hours, we talked about his feelings and behavior. But from that moment on Thursday morning, I became more concerned about what might happen at school.
I am increasingly concerned about how our activities will affect staff and other students at the school. The "third wave" disrupted the normal learning order. Students skipped class to attend, and the school counselor began questioning every student in the class. The real "Gestapo" at the school was working. Faced with this exploding experiment in every way, I decided to try an old basketball strategy. The best thing you can do when you're faced with great difficulty is the unexpected. That's what I do.
By Thursday, the class had grown to more than 80 students. The only place where they can reach agreement is the mandatory discipline of "sitting silently." A strange stillness occurs when an entire room is sitting in full concentration and anticipation. This allows me to approach them calmly. I speak of glory. "Glory is more important than manners and etiquette. It is something that no one can take away from you. Glory is knowing that you are the best...it is indestructible..."
climaxes in this passage In a speech at , I suddenly lowered my voice and announced the true origin of the "third wave". In a low, methodical tone, I articulate what's behind the "third wave." "The 'Third Wave' is not just an experiment or a classroom activity. It's much more than that. The 'Third Wave' is a national organization looking for students who are willing to fight for the reform of the country's political system. Yes . This activity we have been doing is doing for real Youth team of a good society. If we can reform the system in which schools are run, we can reform the system in which factories, shops, universities, and everything else is run. You are the young people who have been called to promote this. If you can Stand up and show what you've learned in the past four days...we can change the destiny of this country
....
we can give it a new meaning of discipline, unity, honor and action. A new purpose. Everything It 's all up to you and your will to take a stand."
To give some authenticity to my solemn words, I turned my attention to three girls in my class who I knew had questioned the "third wave." I asked them to leave the classroom. I explained the reason for this and assigned 4 escorts to escort them to the library and prevent them from entering the class on Friday. Then, in a dramatic tone, I informed the class that there would be a special midday assembly on Friday. It is a rally for "Third Wave" members only.
It's a wild gamble. I just kept talking there, worried that if I stopped, someone would laugh or ask a question and the whole plan would go to waste. I explained that at noon on Friday, the candidate for the organization's national presidency would announce the creation of the Third Wave Youth Program. At the same time, more than 1,000 youth teams from all over the country will come forward to show their support for such a campaign. I also revealed that they are the elected representatives of the region. I also asked if they could perform well, since the press has been invited to document the event. No one laughed. There was no murmuring of resistance. In contrast, a frenzied excitement swept the room. "We can do it!" "Want to wear a white shirt?" "Can I bring friends?" "Mr. Jones, did you see the ad in Time magazine?"
The comment was purely coincidental. A full-page color-page advertisement appeared in Time magazine on the spot, and it was some kind of wooden tool. Advertisers have dubbed the product the "third wave." "The third wave is coming," the ad reads in red, white, and blue capital letters. "Mr Jones, is this part of the movement too?" "Is it a code word? Or something else?" "Yes! Now listen carefully.
"It's all planned for tomorrow. Take a seat in the small auditorium ten minutes before 12:00. Be ready to demonstrate the discipline, unity, and glory that you have learned. Don't tell anyone about this. This rally is for members only. "
Understanding the power of casting
On Friday, the last day of the event, I was setting up the auditorium for the rally early in the morning. At 11:30, the students began to enter the house; at first a few students came to find their way, then more and more. The rows began to fill up. A secret silence covered the whole house. Above the crowd, banners of "Third Wave" hung like clouds. At twelve o'clock, I closed the doors and placed guards at each door. A few friends of mine dressed as reporters and videographers began interacting with the crowd, taking pictures and scribbling hurried descriptions. A set of photos was taken. More than 200 students crowded in the room. There isn't a single empty seat. The team appears to be made up of different categories of students. There are athletes, social luminaries, student leaders, misfits, kids who leave early, cyclists, fashionistas, representatives of school Dada artists, and some students living in dry cleaners. However, when they sat in an extremely upright posture, the whole group seemed to be an army, a force. Everyone's eyes were fixed on the TV I put in front of the room. Nobody moved. There was no sound in the whole house. As if we were all witnesses to a birth. This tension and anticipation is beyond belief.
"I'm going to show the media how well we've trained before changing the channel to the national meeting that's going to start in five minutes." With that, I saluted, followed by a 200-arm return salute. Then, I uttered the words "discipline creates strength", followed by the repeated recitation of the students in unison. We do it again and again. The voice of the response was louder each time. Journalists are constantly snapping pictures around the ceremony, but until now they have been ignored. I reiterated the importance of this event and once again asked students to show their allegiance to it. This was the last time I had someone recite it. The whole room trembled in the screams from the throat - "discipline casting strength".
12:05 now. I turned off the lights in the house and walked quickly to the TV. The air in the room seemed to be squeezed dry. Difficulty breathing and even more difficult to speak. It was as if the climax of these soul cries had blasted everything out of the house. I turn on the TV. I'm standing next to the TV now, facing the room full of people. The TV emits a bright phosphorescence. Robert is by my side. I whispered to him and told him to keep an eye on the next few minutes. The only light in the room came from the TV, which was facing the faces in the room. All eyes were fixed on the light, but its picture did not change in the slightest. The house fell into a dead silence. There seems to be a spiritual wrestling going on between the people in the house and the TV. And TV wins. The white light screen used for debugging did not suddenly turn into a political candidate. It kept "squeaking". And the viewers are still holding on. There must be a show. Must be coming soon. Where? People are still staring at the TV for hours. 12:07 now. Nothing. There was only a blank white light. won't start. The crowd fell into anxiety, followed by depression. Someone stood up and shouted, "There's no leader, is there?" Everyone was shocked, looking back at the frustrated student, then back to the TV. Doubt was written on their faces.
During this chaotic moment, I moved slowly towards the TV. I turned it off. I felt the room fill with air again. The room was still in solid silence, but for the first time I felt someone breathing. The students retract their arms from behind the chairs. I expected a flood of questions, but what I got was an extreme silence. I start talking. Every word seemed to be pulled out of the mouth and sucked away at once.
"Listen carefully, I have something important to tell you. Sit down. There are no leaders at all! There is no such thing as a 'third wave' national youth movement. It's just that you're used to it. Controlled. By your own Manipulated by desire, driven to the point where you are now discovering. You are no different from the German Nazis we have studied.
"You thought you were chosen, that you were stronger than those outside the house. You traded your freedom for a good sense of discipline and superiority. You chose to accept the collective will, and yourselves Big lie on a firm belief. Well, you think to yourselves, you're just getting in on it for fun, thinking you can get away at any time. But where are you headed? How far have you come? Let me show you what your future is."
After speaking, I turned on the projector behind me. It quickly illuminates a white cloth hanging behind the TV. Soon, a huge crowd appeared. The shouts of the Nuremberg Rally* burst into view. My heart was hit hard. In ghostly images, the history of the Third Reich is displayed in the house. discipline. huge lie. arrogant. Violence. fear. People were pushed into vans. The stench in the concentration camp seemed to be visible. A face without eyes. trial. Pleas and defenses ignored. I'm just doing my job. My job. Suddenly, the film freezes at one shot. "Everyone must take responsibility. No one can claim that he was not involved in it at all."
[*Nuremberg Rally: The German Nazi Party held many grand rallies in Nuremberg in 1933, 1937, 1938 and so on. Unknown in the text. Probably a reference to the 1937-09-05 rally, the largest Nazi rally ever. --Translator's Note:
When the final clip of the film flashed on the projector, the room was plunged into darkness. I feel pain in my stomach. The room was stuffy and smelled like a secret room. Nobody moved. It was as if everyone wanted to dissect the moment and figure out what was going on. As if awakened from a deep sleep and dream, the whole house began to slowly regain consciousness. I waited a few minutes for everyone to react. Finally, the question arose. All the questions questioned the hypothetical situation and hoped to discover the significance of this event.
In the still dark room, I began to explain. I confessed my ills and regrets. I told the attendees that it would take some time to fully explain. But right from the start, I felt like I was changing from being a self-reflecting participant to being a teacher. It's easier to be a teacher. I began to objectively describe what had happened before.
"Through our experience over the past week, we have all learned what it was like to live in Nazi Germany. We learned what it was like to create a social environment with strict discipline. To build a special society. To pledge loyalty to this society . Replacing reasons with rules. Yes. We will all make good (Nazi) Germans. We will wear uniforms. Will turn our heads when friends and neighbors are cursed until persecuted. Will be in 'defensive' factories Work. Yes, we've learned a little about what it's like to find an idol; what it's like to feel powerful and in control of one's destiny. We know the fear of being abandoned, the joy of being praised for doing the right thing. Number one. Be the right one. When taken to extremes, we see, maybe feel, where this behavior is going. Over the past week, each of us has witnessed something . We see that fascism is not just something made by someone else. No. It's here. In this room. In our own habits and ways of living. Wipe away the surface and it's Emerged. It's something that's lurking inside of us all. We carry it like a disease. It's the notion that 'human nature is evil' and therefore cannot be treated with kindness. It's the social order that requires strong leadership and discipline to bring about The notion of sustaining. And something else—the act of apology*.
[*The act of apology: Originally titled The act of apology.—Translator's Note]
"This is the last lesson we're going to experience. This last lesson is perhaps the most important. This lesson is the question that got us into the study of Nazi life. Do you remember that question? It was a questioning of the German public's claim that they had nothing to do with the Nazi movement and had no knowledge of it. If I could remember the question, it would be something like this: How could German soldiers, teachers, railroad conductors, nurses, tax collectors, and even the most common citizen, at the end of the Third Reich, claim to be responsible for what happened (referring to the genocide of the Jews) No knowledge? How can the citizens claim in the end that they are not really relevant when they are part of something in themselves? What allows people to erase their own (participation) history? In the next few minutes or years, you may have a chance to answer this question.
"If our practice of fascist mentality was thorough, none of you would admit to this final rally of the 'Third Wave'. Like the (Nazi) Germans, it's hard for you to admit to yourselves. , you have come this far. You will not let your friends and parents know that you are willing to give up individual freedom and power for verbal orders and invisible leaders. You cannot admit that you have been manipulated to become a follower, Can't admit that you embraced the 'third wave' and made it a way of life. You will not admit to taking part in this frenzy. You will keep this day, this rally a secret. This is a me and you Shared secret."
I took the film from the three cameras in the house and exposed the film. The operation is over. The practice is over. The "third wave" is over. I glanced back over my shoulder. Robert was crying. The students slowly rose from their chairs and silently filed into the outdoor light. I walked up to Robert and put my arms around him. He was sobbing, taking in the air uncontrollably. "It's over." "It's alright." We consoled each other, stagnant in the excited crowd of students. Some of the students turned back and briefly grabbed me and Robert. Others opened up and cried, then wiped away the tears that kept shedding. People surrounded each other, grabbed each other, and moved toward the door, toward the outside world.
During a week at school, we totally shared our lives. As might be expected, we also share a deep secret. In the 4 years I have taught at Cubberley High School, no one has admitted to attending a "third wave" rally. Oh, we discussed and studied our behavior vigorously; but as for the assembly itself, never. This is something we all want to forget.
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