Evolving Memory Narratives: The Transformations of Ruth Kluger’s Autobiographical Writing197 Hauntings of the Traumatic Past in Maas’s Film Two Lives: Individual and Collective Memory Margarete Landwehr West Chester University Abstract: Based on the novel Ice Ages by German journalist Hannelore Hippe, Georg Maas’s thriller Zwei Leben / Two Lives (2012) was inspired by the stories of Lebensborn children with German fathers and Norwegian mothers, who were taken from Norway and raised in East German orphanages. The film’s protagonist represents those “orphans” who returned to Norway as Stasi spies. The film’s key theme, the return of the repressed, plays a central role both in individual and collective memory. In this article, an overview of the Lebensborn program, particularly in Norway, and the Stasi exploitation of Lebensborn orphans, will provide the context for a discussion of the film. An analysis of the repression of individual traumatic memories and of the appearance of involuntary memories (flashbacks) is based on recent neurobiological findings. The cinematic depiction of flashbacks will be examined and followed by a discussion of the collective postwar amnesia of the Norwegian collaboration in the program and the reprehensible treatment of Lebensborn children and their mothers by the Norwegian government and its citizens in the postwar years. Keywords: Lebensborn program, Norwegian collaboration, trauma, collective memory, “Two Lives,” (title of film) Stasi spies Georg Maas’s thriller Zwei Leben / Two Lives (2012) explores the history of the Lebensborn or war children, born from unions between German SS or army officers and Germanic or Nordic women during the Nazi era. It is based on a then-unpublished novel, Ice Ages , by German journalist Hannelore Hippe. The story was inspired by cases of Lebensborn children taken from Norway and raised in East German orphanages, who returned to Norway as Stasi spies, and of other GDR citizens who ’stole’ the identity of a Lebensborn child in order to infiltrate western societies such as Norway. The film depicts the traumatic life of 198 Margarete Landwehr a German orphan indoctrinated as a Stasi spy who poses as a Lebensborn child in Norway. The film’s key theme, the return of the repressed, plays a central role both in individual and collective memory. An overview of the Lebensborn program, particularly in Norway, and the Stasi exploitation of Lebensborn orphans, will provide the context for a discussion of the film. An analysis of the repression of individual traumatic memories and its cinematic depiction will be followed by a discussion of the collective postwar amnesia of the Norwegian collaboration in the program and the reprehensible treatment of Lebensborn children and their mothers by the Norwegian government and some of its citizens. Lebensborn , which means “fountain or well(spring) of life,” was a state-sponsored project founded by Heinrich Himmler in December 1935, the year the Nuremberg Laws outlawed intermarriage between so-called “ethnic” Germans and Jews. Promoting extramarital relations between “Aryan” partners and large families for women who were considered “racially worthy” while preventing the birth of “undesirable” children through abortions, sterilizations of “unfit” persons, banning of relations between “Aryans” and “racially inferior” partners, and euthanasia constituted two aspects of the Nazi eugenics plan for a so-called “Master Race” ( Joshi 834). With Munich as its administrative center, the Lebensborn office was part of the SS Rasse- und Siedlungshauptamt ( SS Ancestral Office of Race and Settlement) that was transferred in the fall of 1936 to the Hauptamt Persönlicher Stab Reichsführer-SS (Personal Staff of the Reichführer-SS). Himmler required all officers attached to the four central SS departments to join the program and to make monthly payments to it. By January 1939, the society reported 13,000 members of whom 8,000 members were in the SS (Thompson 62). Funds also came from the party and Reich Finance Minister. Himmler’s goal was to reverse the decline in the birthrate among Germans after World War I and increase the Nordic / Germanic population of Germany. Thus, the Lebensborn program constituted racial engineering towards a “desired stock” in which the German Reich was supposed to reach a population of 120 million by 1980 (Henry and Hillel 56). In order to achieve this goal, the program was to give welfare assistance to SS families with a large number of “racially valuable” children and to create maternity and childcare facilities for single and married expectant mothers. SS (Schutzstaffel) and Wehrmacht (army) officers were encouraged to have children with chosen “Aryan” women. Both parents needed to pass a “racial purity” test with a physical examination, a detailed family history and a medical record. Blond hair and blue eyes were preferred traits and family lineage had to be traced back at least three generations. The racial requirements for mothers were so stringent that only forty of every one hundred applicants were accepted (Thompson 66). The Lebensborn homes deliv- Hauntings of the Traumatic Past in Maas’s Film Two Lives 199 ered children and provided preand post-natal care, and protected the mothers by offering privacy, psychological support, and economic security ( Joshi 838). The majority of mothers in these homes were unmarried. As Joshi (837) reports, the percentage of unwed mothers ranged from 47 % (1938) to 56 % (1939) to 58 % (1941) and reached a high point in 1942 of 71 %. Many Lebensborn mothers were also relocated and provided with jobs, often within the Lebensborn homes ( Joshi 839). Between 1936 and 1944 there were nine Lebensborn maternity clinics in Germany. The Lebensborn agency also developed foster child and adoption programs. While supporting a child’s right to stay with its biological mother, the agency, however, would not allow a mother to keep her infant unless she met certain moral and economic criteria. If she was judged morally unfit to be a mother, lacked the financial means to support her child, or, if she worked and couldn’t provide adequate childcare, Lebensborn would house an infant for at least a year in children’s homes that were built for this purpose. If the mother still was considered unqualified to take care of the child after a year, the agency placed the child in an SS foster home. Speculation that the Lebensborn program sponsored illicit sexual liasons, i. e., “breeding farms,” have proven to be unfounded as stated in the “Ru SHA Case,” Case 8 of the Nuremberg Trials. With the outbreak of war, German soldiers were encouraged to fraternize with native women of occupied countries as well as Germans. On 28 October 1939, Himmler sent a message to the members of the German Police and his SS men encouraging them to leave their mark in occupied territories not only as soldiers, but also as fathers ( Joshi 833). Rudolf Hess, Hitler’s deputy for Party affairs, dealt with the topic of illegitimate births through the German News Agency ( DNB ) in the form of a letter to a German mother that was published in the 1939 Christmas edition of newspapers: “Thus, if racially impeccable young men who go into the battlefield leave behind children who transmit their blood to future generations, children of equally genetically healthy girls of equivalent age with whom marriage is for some reason not immediately feasible, this will secure the maintenance of this valuable national possession. Scruples, which in normal times might be justified, must be put aside” ( Joshi 835). Because of this fraternization between occupying forces and native women, Lebensborn homes were established in occupied Europe including the Netherlands, Belgium, Luxembourg, France, and Norway (Henry and Hillel 207). If both parents received racial certification, then the foreign mothers were forced to enter Lebensborn maternity homes or were sometimes transported to homes in the Reich to have their children. These Lebensborn homes received an unstipulated number of children between two and six years old who were considered to have a suitable ethnic German background for “re-Germanization” for eventual 200 Margarete Landwehr placement in German foster homes. (These children were described as “Wiedereindeutschungsfähige.” When they learned that their illegitimate children were to be placed in foster homes by Lebensborn , most mothers refused to cooperate (Thompson 72).) One of the worst aspects of this program was the kidnapping of children deemed “racially valuable” (rassisch wertvoll) in the eastern occupied territories, particularly from Poland, Russia, and Ukraine after 1939, although children were also taken from France, the Benelux countries, Denmark and Norway. Although some were orphans whose parents died during military operations or who were executed by the occupation forces (Thompson 73), many were stolen from their parents. Between 1939 and 1945 about 250 children were kidnapped from Eastern Europe and brought to German Lebensborn homes (Schmitz-Koester 214). They were “reeducated” and then Lebensborn found foster or adoptive parents for them. A vigorous procreation campaign with intensive propaganda was established among German troops who occupied Denmark and Norway in spring 1940 as Nazi race theorists placed great value on Nordic women for reproductive purposes (Henry and Hillel 118). Himmler believed that Norwegians (and Danes), as direct descendants from the Vikings, were genuine “Aryans,” genetically predisposed to being physically and mentally strong and courageous; desirable traits for future German warriors (Macolo and Schumacher 72). Thus, many of the over 400,000 German soldiers who occupied Norway after the invasion on 9 April 1940 had relationships with Norwegian women (Macolo and Schumacher 73). In accordance with the slogan “After the victory on the battlefield comes the victory in the cradle,” the Germans began planning a mother and child welfare program primarily for unwed Norwegian mothers during the autumn of 1940 as few German fathers married their Nordic partners (Olsen 19). In February 1941 Himmler met with Reichskommissar Josef Terboven, the chief of the German civil administration in Norway; German SS leader in Norway Wilhelm Rediess; and Max Sollmann, the director of the Lebensborn program in Germany, and launched the Lebensborn program in Norway. The first Lebensborn home opened near Oslo in August 1941 and nine to ten maternity homes were established in Norway, the most of any German occupied territory (Olsen 20). As in Germany and other occupied countries, the mothers and children were cared for and the Germans paid for their medical expenses. (Kunst 2; Olsen 19—20). The European Human Rights Court has estimated that between the end of 1940 and 8 May 1945 approximately 10,000 to 12,000 children were born with Norwegian mothers and German fathers (Koop 224). Total estimates run as high as one million in Europe of such children who were born from German fathers (Grover 25). Hauntings of the Traumatic Past in Maas’s Film Two Lives 201 The German authorities considered all children of German fathers and Norwegian mothers as German citizens (Olsen 22). Thus, the Nazis deprived Norwegian courts of jurisdiction over cases in which the child’s father was German, and Norwegians could not adopt a child with a German father without the permission of the Lebensborn (Henry and Hillel 120). When their mothers agreed to give the children up for adoption, the Germans sent the children they deemed “less valuable” to Norwegian families and those regarded as “more racially valuable” to German families for adoption (Olsen 22). Hundreds of Norwegian women also sought refuge from hostile families and neighbors, who despised them for fraternizing with the enemy, in Lebensborn homes in Germany (Henry and Hillel 120). Most abandoned their babies willingly or unwillingly there. Because of their “racial quality,” Nazi families eagerly adopted these babies. Between 1943 and 1945 about 200 to 250 children arrived in Germany from Norway (Schmitz-Koester 215). Vidkun Quisling’s wartime regime in Norway played a significant role in this aspect of the Norwegian Lebensborn program. No other occupied country worked with the Germans so well in this program as his collaborationist government. Sverre Riisnæs, the Norwegian Minister of Justice, signed an agreement with the Germans that essentially legalized the kidnapping of children and their transfer to Germany (Henry and Hillel 125). German and Norwegian postwar societies shunned Lebensborn children or krigsbarn (war children) and their mothers. It took decades for West German society to accept illegitimate children and to view them as morally and legally equal to legitimate ones (Schmitz-Koester 220). They often suffered from humiliation, insults and badgering because of their illegitimate birth, not their Lebensborn origins ( SK 220). In Norway, Lebensborn mothers were stereotyped as “Deutschenflittchen,” as indecent, and were regarded as betraying their country for voluntarily having sexual relations with an enemy soldier. About 14,000 women were arrested after the war and 5,000 were interned in camps where there was forced labor (Koop 222; Olsen 26). After the war, many with German boyfriends were “punished” for fraternizing with the enemy by having their hair cut off, losing their jobs, and / or being ostracized from their communities and forced to leave (Ericsson and Ellingsen 97). Some even were tarred and feathered or had a swastika cut or burned into their foreheads. Norwegian Lebensborn children also suffered humiliation and abuse. Orphans sent to Norwegian orphanages were sometimes ridiculed and sexually abused (Kammerer). The hostile attitude of the Norwegian government and some Norwegians towards the Lebensborn children was evident during the first European meeting for child relief and aid after the war. At this meeting, Norway was the only country that publically portrayed the children of German soldiers as a specific problem and as objects of national and local hatred, contempt, and suspicion 202 Margarete Landwehr (Simonsen 278). In an editorial in a daily paper, Lofotposten , from May 1945 one reads: “All these German children are bound to grow up and develop into an extensive bastard minority in the Norwegian people. By their descent they are doomed in advance to take a combative stance. They have no nation, they have no father, they just have hate, and this is their only heritage. They are unable to become Norwegians” (Ericsson and Ellingsen 94). However, in November 1947, under pressure from the Allies, the Norwegian government decided to bring back Lebensborn children with the help of the Red Cross in Germany and United Nations organizations. Of about 230 children, only 50 were brought back before the early 1950s. 24 were reported dead, 50 were not found, and 83 stayed in Germany as the authorities found them living under “good” conditions in German families or because they lived in the Russian zone, later the German Democratic Republic (Olsen 30). In the GDR some Lebensborn children, who had a right to passports from their mothers’ countries, were recruited from orphanages, along with others, by the Stasi (Staatsicherheitsdienst), the East German espionage agency, as spies. The Stasi sometimes gave those who were not Lebensborn offspring identities of Lebensborn children in order to acquire passports and infiltrate the countries of the Lebensborn mothers. In the latter case, the GDR Lebensborn children whose identities were “stolen” were prevented from investigating their origins in order to protect the false identity of the Stasi spy. The sending of spies with authentic or falsified Lebensborn identities to the West continued into the 1970s. The exact number of Stasi spies with stolen identities is unknown as most files were destroyed (Mascolo and Schumacher 73). Neither Stasi leader Erich Mielke, nor Markus Wolf, the director of the Stasi’s foreign operations, has admitted to this spy program (Mascolo and Schumacher 73). Not until after the Fall of the Berlin Wall did GDR Lebensborn children discover their identity and their mothers. In Two Lives , Vera, a woman who grew up in a GDR orphanage, takes on the identity of Katrine Evensen, a Lebensborn child, and is trained as a Stasi spy. She fakes an “escape” from the GDR to Norway, finds Katrine’s Norwegian mother Ase, and infiltrates herself into the Norwegian navy where she steals classified information, and, eventually, marries a Norwegian captain. Her deception is almost exposed when the real Katrine escapes from the GDR and arrives at her mother’s home in Norway, but is killed by a Stasi agent. This episode marks a double trauma for Vera who is brutally attacked by Katrine, yet is also indirectly responsible for her Doppelgänger’s murder. The death of this alter-ego also marks the “death” of Vera’s Stasi identity and Socialist beliefs and her eventual rejection of her Stasi mentor, who also served as a surrogate father to her. Decades later, after the Fall of the Berlin Wall, an investigation by the European Hauntings of the Traumatic Past in Maas’s Film Two Lives 203 Union that seeks compensation for Lebensborn children and mothers forces Vera, whom they believe to be Katrine, and Katrine’s mother Ase to testify in court. Vera’s false but convincing testimony triggers the revelation of her Stasi past and false identity that eventually ends her double life, but also alienates her from her chosen family. Thus, the film’s title, Two Lives , refers not only to Ase and her Lebensborn child and to Katrine and her alter ego Vera, but also to the two lives that Vera must lead: her secret past life as a former spy, which she cannot escape, and her everyday life as a Norwegian citizen. Severe trauma marks Vera’s existence, first as an orphan and then as a young recruit, who, under the control of the Stasi, witnessed their violence. The film, which filters events mostly through Vera’s perspective, does not portray her childhood, but does consist of two narratives in which memories of her Stasi past are intercut with scenes from her present life. In particular, the film narrative oscillates between an investigation into the discrimination and abuse of Lebensborn children and mothers by the European Union’s Human Rights Court with its eventual uncovering of the truth and Vera’s memories that are triggered by the investigation. These fragmented, but vivid flashbacks of her Stasi indoctrination, journey to Norway, deception, and alter-ego’s murder torment her not just because of her guilt regarding her past actions, but also from fear of the future consequences if these actions are discovered. Revelation of her secret past could destroy her relationship with her family and her life in Norway. Cinematic images and sound serve as a particularly appropriate medium in depicting these hauntings—both personal and collective—of the past. The use of montage, that is, the juxtaposition of past scenes, often depicted as the protagonist’s memories, with present ones, portrays an ever-present past lurking behind the everyday present. Vera’s detailed memories of her Stasi “life” and meeting with Katrine are portrayed as stark black and white film sequences. The grainy film stock constitutes a suitable means of portraying Vera’s flashbacks as it contrasts with “present” scenes in color, which enables viewers to distinguish between recollected past events and present ones. Such intercutting of scenes from the past into the present cinematically depicts the intrusion of her previous into her current life and the psychic splitting of traumatized survivors who live in two different worlds, the secret realm of the (past) trauma and their current, ordinary lives. Pierre Janet was the first to recognize dissociation, which Freud called “depersonalization,” as the mental mechanism responsible for this psychic splitting. Dissociation usually refers to a process or condition in which mental processes are separated from the conscious personality. For example, Janet describes a severe case of a young patient, Irene, who cared for her dying mother, yet, after her death had no conscious recollection of the death even though she automatically repeated her 204 Margarete Landwehr actions of caring for her mother after her death. In a similar vein, Freud wrote in 1936 that: “Depersonalization leads us to the extraordinary condition of double consciousness, which is more correctly described as a split personality” (Kolk and Hart 166). Irene’s amnesia of her mother’s death offers the most extreme case of dissociation, but a psychic split often manifests itself when someone has a sudden, inexplicably intense reaction to an occurrence that appears out of proportion to the event that triggered it. In such an instance, usually an aspect of an experience provokes an implicit (emotional or physical) memory of a past trauma, but may not activate a conscious memory of it. For instance, an adult who was sexually abused as a child may recoil from a sexual overture from his / her partner, but may not consciously remember the origins of his / her revulsion. Contemporary research has shown that dissociation of a traumatic experience occurs even as the trauma itself is happening. Most survivors report that they were / are automatically removed from the traumatic scene, that they look at it from a distance (Kolk and Hart 168). As Vera’s memories demonstrate, this psychic splitting can continue years, even decades after the trauma. The survivor lives these parallel lives simultaneously, because traumatic memory is, in a sense, timeless and ever-present, if not in consciousness, then in the recesses of the subconscious. Traditional psychoanalytical theories and recent discoveries in cognitive psychology and neurobiology that analyze the differences in the creation and recall of mundane and traumatic experiences offer valuable insights into Vera’s traumatic flashbacks. In “The Intrusive Past: The Flexibility of Memory and the Engraving of Trauma,” Bessel van der Kolk and Onno van der Hart distinguish narrative memory from traumatic ones. They cite Janet who was the first to make the distinction between these two types of memory. Janet had claimed in 1928 that mundane experiences are integrated into one’s memory of the past, whereas traumatic ones may be remembered with great vividness, but often resist integration into one’s understanding of oneself and one’s life (Kolk and Hart 160). “Lack of proper integration of intensely emotionally arousing experiences into the memory system results in dissociation and the formation of traumatic memories” (Kolk and Hart 163). Thus, as Judith Herman observes in her landmark study Trauma and Recovery , the traumatic event is not transformed into a verbal, linear narrative that is assimilated into one’s life story, but is experienced as frozen in time: “It is as if time stops at the moment of trauma. The traumatic moment becomes encoded in an abnormal form of memory, which breaks spontaneously into consciousness, both as flashbacks during waking states and as traumatic nightmares during sleep” (Herman 37). Herman further observes that this “encoding” of traumatic memories in the form of vivid sensations and images gives the traumatic memories a “heightened reality” (Herman 38). Hauntings of the Traumatic Past in Maas’s Film Two Lives 205 Gestalt psychology, cognitive psychology, and neurobiology elucidate these two very different ways of forming memories. In the early twentieth century, Gestalt psychology “emphasized that all experiences consist of integrated structures or patterns that must be apprehended as wholes rather than as their disconnected parts” (Kolk and Hart 170). It is now widely acknowledged that memory constitutes an active and constructive process and that remembering depends upon existing mental schemas. “A schema is formed on the basis of past experience with objects, scenes or events and consists of a set of (usually unconscious) expectations about what things look like and / or the order in which they occur” (Kolk and Hart, quoted in Mandler 263). Cognitive psychologist Daniel Schacter elaborates on this theory in his article “Implicit Memory”; Kolk and Hart summarize: “Only after an experience is placed in a meaningful context can inferences and suppositions about the meaning of an event be made” (170). In short, the mind organizes new information into preexisting patterns. The new science of neurobiology or neural networks supports this view and is based on the assumption that neurons work together to discriminate patterns (Kolk and Hart 171). Cognitive psychologists have drawn upon the theory of memory of Gestalt psychology in their explanation, important for this discussion, of why a survivor’s memory of a traumatic experience is, often, more accurate than that of a mundane one. On the one hand, everyday memories can become inaccurate when new ideas and information are combined with old knowledge to form flexible mental schemas (Kolk and Hart 171). (Much of the processing of incoming information generally remains outside of conscious awareness.) When a specific event or piece of information becomes integrated into a larger scheme, it is no longer accessible as an individual entity. Thus, memory can be distorted during the constant process of reworking or re-categorizing the specific memory into a schema. However, “[…] when there are problems with categorization [as in the case of traumatic experiences; my addition] because of difficulty in interpreting the nature of the incoming stimulus,” consciousness can be activated (Kolk and Hart 171). Thus, traumatic memories can become “fixed” in the mind and not altered in time. In studies on post-traumatic nightmares, for example, van der Kolk (1994) found that traumatic scenes were re-experienced again and again without modifications. Consequently, victims’ relived memories of traumatic experiences of ten, twenty, or thirty years ago in the form of flashbacks such as Vera’s were unchanged. However, a trauma that was experienced during childhood, such as Vera’s abandonment as a baby and any abuse she may have experienced in the orphanage, either will not be remembered or remembered differently from a trauma that one experiences as an adult. Recent research shows that chronic amnesia usually occurs after 206 Margarete Landwehr repeated traumatization in childhood whereas hypermnesia (vivid or detailed memories) is more common after one-time traumatic events, particularly in adults (Kolk and Hart 173). Drawing upon recent discoveries in neurobiology, cognitive psychologists can understand why certain traumatic experiences, particularly those in childhood, are not remembered. They have identified three ways of encoding information in the central nervous system ( CNS ): inactive, iconic and symbolic / linguistic, which, in turn, reflect various stages of CNS development. As they mature, children shift from primarily sensorimotor (motoric action), to perceptual or iconic representations to symbolic and linguistic modes of organizing mental experience. In particular, whether as a child or an adult, when someone is exposed to a severe traumatic experience, that is, a frightening, often life-threatening event outside of ordinary human experience, one experiences intense arousal, strong emotions that can interfere with proper information processing and that, consequently, “fix” memories (Kolk and Hart 173). Thus, “the experience cannot be organized on a linguistic level and this failure to arrange the memory in words and symbols leaves it to be organized on a somatosensory (corporeal) or iconic level: as somatic sensations, behavioral reenactments, nightmares and flashbacks” (Kolk and Hart 172). Children, who tend to feel more helpless than adults when confronted with an event outside their control, will more frequently react in this manner; however, depending on the intensity and duration of the trauma, adults can react in a similar way. Such implicit memories, whether emotional or physiological, are not accessible to the conscious part of the mind yet often control one’s behavior. As van der Kolk has observed, “[…] the rational, executive brain, the mind […] has a very limited capacity to squelch sensations, control emotional arousal, or change fixed action patterns” (Kolk 2006, 281). Thus, it appears likely that Vera’s inability to talk about her dishonorable past and the horrific death of an innocent young woman may stem from a physiological incapacity to formulate into words, into a narrative, the traumatic events of her previous existence. Van der Kolk (2006) has demonstrated that reminders of traumatic experiences activate brain regions that support intense emotions and decrease activation in the CNS regions that are involved in inhibition of emotions and in the translation of experience into language. Therefore, when one is reliving a trauma, there is a deactivation in an area of the left anterior prefrontal cortex called Broca’s area, which is the expressive center in the brain that enables one to communicate what one is thinking and feeling. Furthermore, under stress, one often reverts to a fixed habit in confronting a crisis. For example, in Two Lives , when Vera’s secret life as a spy threatens to be exposed, she reverts to her usual response in a crisis and contacts her Stasi superior for instructions on how to handle her dilemma instead of confessing to her family. Only when Hauntings of the Traumatic Past in Maas’s Film Two Lives 207 a decades-old television interview with the real Katrine surfaces is Vera forced to admit her deception to them and confess the truth. Finally, it is common knowledge that traumatic memories are activated by triggers, experiences that contain some similarity to the traumatic event, and are believed to be mediated through neural pathways that originate in the locus coeruleus in the brain. This part of the brain serves as the “alarm bell” of the CNS , which usually goes off only in situations of threat, but, in traumatized survivors, it is likely to respond in any triggering situation. Animal research has demonstrated that once the memory tracts have been activated under conditions of severe stress, subsequent high-intensity stimuli will preferentially travel along the same neural pathways and activate the memories that were laid down under similar conditions (Kolk and Hart 173). It is likely that in people, as in animals, long-term reinforcement of these neural connections made during intense hyperarousal is at the core of repetitive, fixed, intrusive reliving of traumatic memories when survivors find themselves in a state that resembles the traumatic episode (174). In some traumatized individuals only one aspect of a traumatic event can trigger a strong response. Triggers of an explicit (conscious) or implicit (emotional, physical) memory of a trauma include the following: The survivor is in the same location or one similar to the site of the trauma or hears a sound or melody or smells an odor that was present during the traumatic event. The survivor witnesses an action that, in some way, resembles the traumatic event. To sum up, memories are reactivated when a person is exposed to a situation or to a specific aspect of a situation (location, sounds, smell, etc.) or is in a somatic state reminiscent of the one when the original traumatic memory was stored. The most significant and intense triggering episode in the film centers on the discovery of the real Katrine’s existence and arrival in Norway, which leads to the revelation of her murder and Vera’s involvement and deception. An EU investigator who is involved in the Lebensborn case discovers a tape of a television news report in which the real Katrine Evensen, who escaped the GDR , is interviewed. With this discovery, Vera, whose name means truth, is forced to reveal her deception to her family. Her ability to break her long silence and finally narrate her story suggests the possibility of growth through acknowledging her traumatic past and true identity. As van der Kolk and Ducey observe in “The Psychological Processing of Traumatic Experience,” a sudden and passively endured trauma is relived repeatedly, until a person learns to remember simultaneously the affect and cognition associated with the trauma through access to language” (271). Indeed, the discovery of the tape and its viewing by Vera’s family triggers memories of her involvement with Katrine’s murder and its cover-up and compels Vera to reveal her Stasi past. This confession also enables her to act in an independent and responsible manner. Instead of 208 Margarete Landwehr following instructions from her former Stasi boss, her usual response when her past threatens to be exposed, she chooses an ethical course of action, that will ultimately destroy her familial relationships, but that also demonstrates a free, authentic expression of her true self. At the film’s conclusion, Vera has decided not to cooperate with the Stasi’s plan to send her to Cuba, but to turn herself in to the Norwegian authorities and reveal the truth. Yet this noble attempt to integrate her past life into her present one is tragically cut short when she dies, like her alter ego, at the hands of the Stasi. Her car brakes do not function as they, apparently, have been tampered with. Her vehicle veers off a steep road and bursts into flames. Vera’s vain attempts to stop the car’s ever faster trajectory serve as an apt metaphor for her own lack of control over her fate, which is evident during the last weeks of her life. As the EU investigation progresses, her efforts to “put the brakes” on the inquiry are futile, and the exposure of her secret identity seems inevitable. Maas’s muted cinematic portrayal of Vera’s death as an ordinary, everyday occurrence contrasts starkly with the spectacle so common in Hollywood films and actually adds to the poignancy of the scene and the viewer’s empathy with Vera. Filmed from a distance, the burning car on the deserted country road underscores Vera’s isolated, lonely existence in which she never fully belonged to either her German past or her present life in Norway. She dies as she was born, without a family or a country. When she confessed her deception to her husband, daughter, and “mother” Ase, they reacted with (understandable) shock and reject her. Vera also has cast aside her Stasi identity by refusing to cooperate any longer with her Stasi mentor, who also served as a father figure. Katrine’s and Vera’s lives reflect that of many wartime orphans just as Ase’s fate represents the lives of many Lebensborn women and partners of German occupying forces. Thus, these individual tragedies represent the collective wartime and postwar suffering of some women and children in occupied territories. Vera’s and Katrine’s life stories reflect a much larger narrative of unacknowledged and ungrieved loss and collective silence about shameful, communal “sins” that are exposed in the EU investigation. Vera’s public testimony of her (albeit falsified) past as a Lebensborn child mirrors a collective narrative of the past and offers the possibility of restitution for past communal “sins.” (One of the goals of the EU investigation is to pay reparations to Lebensborn mothers and children.) The return of the traumatic past that haunts Vera and Ase spans two generations and three political states—Nazi Germany, the German Democratic Republic, and democratic Norway. The EU investigation uncovers not only the Nazi Lebensborn program, but also the reprehensible treatment of Norwegian mothers and their children by the Norwegian government and some of its citizens after World War II . Furthermore, the GDR exploited Lebensborn children Hauntings of the Traumatic Past in Maas’s Film Two Lives 209 and other orphans in service of the state as spies. However, the mistreatment of Lebensborn mothers (and some children) is not limited to Norway, the GDR , and Nazi Germany. The revelation of the Lebensborn program and the postwar abuse of its women and their offspring also indict all wartime, collaborative governments and point to a collective need to come to terms with their past. The EU investigation with its testimony, news coverage, and reparations to victims portrays a collective obligation to confront national guilt, to admit governmental and communal responsibility for reprehensible deeds and / or neglect, and to offer an ethical response, in this case restitution to the victims. Moreover, the indoctrination and exploitation of Lebensborn offspring (and other orphans) as Stasi spies serve not only as the final chapter of the Lebensborn program, but also as a haunting repetition of the past. In particular, Vera’s Stasi involvement serves, in some aspects, as a replay of her mother’s past. In both instances, children (or women) were exploited by totalitarian regimes and given new identities for a political goal. The Lebensborn project was to increase the so-called “Aryan” population of the Third Reich; Lebensborn children, whether kidnapped or not, were to adopt a new German identity. In a similar way, the Stasi indoctrinated orphans to embrace the state as their family and to give up their identities in order to serve as spies abroad. In both instances, secrets of the past haunt individuals as well as societies. The film’s portrayal of an EU investigation into the abuse of Lebensborn children (and mothers) is based on an historical event. In 2007, the European Court of Human Rights ( ECHR ) heard the merits of the case of Thiermann and Others vs. Norway. Werner Hermann Thiermann and six other war children ( krigsborn ) born between 1940 and 1945 of Norwegian mothers and German fathers had filed a complaint that centered on the discrimination against them and the legislation regarding war children that Norway instituted in the five years immediately following the war (Grover 25—26). On 9 July 1945, the Norwegian government had set up a “War Children’s Committee” to examine the possibility of deporting the Norwegian war children and their mothers to Germany vs. integrating them into Norwegian society (Grover 27). In the autumn of 1945 the Committee’s report recommended against deportation and, instead, proposed a public education campaign to foster an accepting climate in Norway towards these mothers and children. In particular, a “War Children’s Act” would allow government assistance for the children. But the Norwegian government failed to implement these recommendations and justified this decision by arguing that such government assistance would draw attention to the children, which would not be in their best interest (Grover 27—28). However, as Sonja Grover argues, “sometimes the failure to advocate for the basic human rights of a vulnerable group is, ironically allegedly justified using rights rationales and rhetoric (i. e., 210 Margarete Landwehr that children’s rights / best interests will allegedly be better protected by not intervening to provide special protection as drawing too much attention to the identified group of children may further stigmatize them […])” (28). Grover further argues that “special protective measures, for example, for especially vulnerable child groups, serve to reduce the children’s marginalization by the government’s demonstrating to the community at large the positive duty of the society for the children’s well-being and inclusion” (28—29). Initially the war children had filed a lawsuit in 1999 against the Norwegian government in which they claimed that Norway had violated their human rights by failing to protect them from inhumane and degrading treatment (Grover 26). They were unsuccessful in attaining a favorable outcome. The Oslo City Court ruled on 16 November 2001 that their European Convention rights were not violated prior to 1953 because Norway was not a party to the European Convention of Human Rights until 1953 (Grover 26). The complainants appealed to the Norwegian Borgating High Court, which again ruled on 21 June 2002 that the case was inadmissible and rejected their claim that they suffered continuing European Convention violations (Grover 27). Finally, they brought their case to the ECHR , which decided on 8 March 2007 that the case was inadmissible for a hearing on the grounds that the complainants failed to exhaust domestic (state) law remedies. The ECHR accepted the Norwegian government’s “best interests of the child” rationale. However, as Grover points out, in earlier cases the ECHR commonly rejected such justifications for government non-intervention and failure to protect vulnerable children (29). Furthermore, systemic “persecution” and “degrading treatment” of war-affected civilians, especially children, are prohibited under international law and considered international crimes under the Rome Statute (Grover 30). Finally, Article 7 of the European Convention on Human Rights does not admit any time limits on the guilt of government delegates (and others) who have committed serious violations of citizen rights such as “crimes against humanity” (Grover 30). Why did all three courts fail to acknowledge the Lebensborn children’s valid claim of restitution for violation of their human rights? Was the legal argument based on a (deeper) motive to dismiss the reprehensible governmental neglect and maltreatment of these children and their mothers? Acknowledgement of a shameful past, whether in the form of an official history or as collective memory, often doesn’t occur for a generation or more. In the case of Lebensborn children and women in Norway it took over forty years for an official recognition of their poor treatment and the need for reparations by the Norwegian government. It was not until 2000 that the Norwegian Prime Minister Kjell Magne Bondevik apologized on behalf of Norway for its discriminatory legislation and policies in the immediate postwar years and for later governments’ Hauntings of the Traumatic Past in Maas’s Film Two Lives 211 lack of protective intervention. Although a compensation system was set up for individual war child victims, the Norwegian courts did not find the Thiermann case legally admissible (Grover 32). (One can compare this to the several generations that passed before there was an official recognition by the United States government of its shameful treatment of Native Americans, African-Americans as slaves, or Japanese-Americans who were interned in camps during World War II .) Even the ECHR itself acknowledged that Norwegian public officials, particularly clergymen and doctors, publicly denounced the war children and claimed that they were mentally and genetically defective and potential Nazi sympathizers (Grover 32). This collective “repression” of violent or other reprehensible deeds occurs both in official historical narratives, such as history textbooks, museum exhibits, or legal proceedings (for example, the Lebensborn cases), as well as in collective memory, as portrayed in works of popular culture such as films, television programs, or works of art. In order to explain this social process, I will examine the evolving views of historians regarding the distinctions between history and collective memory and then analyze explanations for this biased narrative in both. In his essay “Collective Memory,” James Wertsch distinguishes between history and collective memory (127). (Wertsch emphasizes that his descriptions of the two genres refers to “tendencies” or “aspirations” rather than “ironclad attributes.”) If history tends to be “objective” and distanced from a particular perspective, and differentiates past from present, then collective memory is more likely to be “subjective,” to reflect a committed perspective and to link the past with the present. (Wertsch’s use of quotation marks acknowledges that there is no purely objective viewpoint; conversely, a “subjective” view is often based on facts. Rather, he is presenting the two genres of narrative as on opposite ends of a continuum.) Wertsch emphasizes that a historical narrative should not reflect any particular social framework, whereas collective memory portrays a particular group’s framework. According to Wertsch, collective memory often consists of unquestionable “heroic narratives,” simple, unilinear stories that usually put the group in a positive, heroic light. In order to understand Wertsch’s concept of heroic narratives, one must grasp his distinction between specific narratives and schematic narrative templates. Wertsch defines specific narratives as the “stock of stories” that shapes a society (128). Schematic templates, on the other hand, are schematic as they “concern abstract, generalized functions,” such as the generalized functions of characters and elements of plot that the Russian folklorist Vladimir Propp analyzed in fairy tales. A template consists, according to Wertsch, of “abstract structures that underlie an entire set of specific narratives” (129). These templates are specific to particular narrative traditions (such as national narratives), are closely 212 Margarete Landwehr linked to a group’s (or nation’s) identity, and operate at a level of “deep collective memory”. For example, American narratives often contain the underlying template of the “mystique of Manifest Destiny,” whereas the central narrative of Russian collective memory embodies “the expulsion-of-foreign-enemies” template, which has had a powerful influence on the state-sponsored official history of Soviet-era and post-Soviet Russia (Wertsch 131). The conservative nature of “deep memory” depicted in schematic national templates suggest that these narratives offer a distinct way of representing the past as opposed to specific memories (Wertsch 132). For example, the official history of the Molotov-Ribbentrop non-aggression pact has remained intact despite the discovery of archival information that contradicts the official story. In a similar way, the Manifest Destiny template justifies the US government’s appropriation of land from indigenous inhabitants. In a similar vein, David W. Blight discusses the differences between history and collective memory that focuses on the question of communal identity and the need for a heroic national narrative. Blight claims that “if history is shared and secular, memory is often treated as a sacred set of absolute meanings and stories, possessed as the heritage or identity of a community” (242—43). This memory “carries the more immediate authority of community membership or family experience” and has an “emotional” appeal as opposed to history’s more “intellectual” attraction (243). Craig W. Blatz and Michael Ross appear to question these distinctions between history and collective memory in their essay “Historical Memories.” They claim “historical memories are skewed” partly because children and adults “are presented with selective and biased depictions of the past. Educators, religious leaders, politicians, and media play an important role by influencing the knowledge available.” Historians employ the term “presentism” when explaining these biased depictions of the past. As a consequence, the official history of a nation or people will “justify and glorify the actions of their own national, ethnic, and religious groups. Episodes that highlight the superiority of the present group are emphasized; whereas episodes potentially damaging to the group’s image are deemphasized or omitted” (224). Blatz and Ross argue that this selective presentation of history occurs not only in works of popular culture (films, legends, television programs, novels), but also in official narratives such as school textbooks, museum exhibits, or legal cases. For instance, older American history books failed to mention the American government’s poor treatment of Native Americans and the appropriation of their land and the slaves’ forced abduction from their homes and the abusive conditions of their servitude. Facts are distorted or eliminated in historical narratives in order to present the “in-group” in a more favorable light. For example, only in the past few months of 2016 have Hauntings of the Traumatic Past in Maas’s Film Two Lives 213 prestigious universities admitted to their holding and selling of slaves in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. I agree with Blatz and Ross’s argument that the same bias is operating in both history and collective memory (as presented in works of popular culture). However, Wertsch’s concept of a heroic narrative as well as the idea of “presentism” offer a convincing explanation of the apparent collective amnesia of the Quisling government’s collaboration with the Nazi occupation forces in the Lebensborn program or the Norwegian government’s not acknowledging its culpability (until 2000) in the horrific treatment of the Lebensborn women and children in the postwar era. As with other official histories, the heroism of the resistance movement against the occupation forces is emphasized whereas the details of Norwegian collaboration are expunged from or minimized in national histories. (One can make the same statement about official French history minimizing the Vichy Regime’s collaboration with the Nazi regime, or the Japanese government’s refusal to publicly acknowledge and apologize for the exploitation of “comfort women” in occupied territory by its soldiers.) Thus, in the heart of Oslo there exists a museum that documents the Norwegian Resistance Movement during the German occupation that supports the “heroic narrative” of the underground fight against the occupation forces. Indeed, Syne Corell points out that Norway’s “master narrative” as a “nation in resistance” against the German occupation hardly mentions the fate of the Norwegian Jews who were deported to camps. A similar explanation can be made for the denial of the brutal treatment of Lebensborn victims. Both the Lebensborn program and the deportation of Jewish Norwegians remind one of Quisling’s collaborationist government and undermine Norway’s heroic narrative. A study done by Norwegian psychiatrists in the postwar era that intended to explain quislingism (Norwegian collaboration with the Nazis) reveals the mechanisms of this collective repression of reprehensible behavior and the emphasis of positive traits inherent in Wertsch’s heroic narratives and in historians’ concept of “presentism.” A newly liberated Norway regarded the legal settlement of the collaborators as one of its most urgent tasks in the postwar era. Most quislings or collaborators were members of the Norwegian National Socialist Party (Nasjonal Samling or NS). The NS was a legal, but small political party, which became the only legal political party during the German occupation. It is estimated that a total of only 60,000 people (about two percent of the Norwegian population) were members of this party during the occupation (Gioever 268). In the postwar reckoning with collaborators, the Norwegian government focused on NS members, propagandists, SS volunteers, informers, and Norwegian women who “fraternized” with Germans. (The informers had disclosed crucial information on the resistance whereas the Norwegian SS was comprised of 6,000 young 214 Margarete Landwehr men who volunteered for military service mostly on the eastern front [Gioever 268]). At the first annual meeting of the Norwegian Psychiatric Association after World War II on 4 September 1945, the chairman Gabriel Langfeldt presented the “most pressing” tasks for Norwegian psychiatry, which included: “Scientific investigations of the traitors, especially informers, SS volunteers, members of the Hird (a paramilitary suborganization of the NS , similar to the German SA ; my addition), torturers and fraternizers” (Gioever 269). Langfeldt viewed psychiatry as the only science capable of explaining Nazism and collaboration. Studies were done on male Nazi party members, female collaborators, SS volunteers, and “fraternizers.” The study on the NS members concluded that mental disease was much more prevalent among traitors than the average population (273), whereas the SS volunteers were found to be healthy, but under the dangerous influence of unscrupulous propaganda (276). Of the 310 “fraternizers” tested by Dr. Augusta Rasmussen, only 3 % of the women were considered to have a normal IQ , 37 % were considered “dull,” and as much as 60 % were labeled as “retarded” (278). In a similar manner, Ornulv Odegard, who acted as an expert advisor on the Government policy concerning the “War children issue,” stated that a high proportion of this group had mental defects “that not even the most thoughtful upbringing or the best of environments can improve much” (280). Odegard’s estimate of the feeblemindedness among the fraternizers was also extremely high, about twothirds (280). As Gioever points out, the Norwegian project that sought to reveal the mental “defectiveness” of most traitors had a questionable methodology that didn’t hold up to later scrutiny, which may have been the reason for the missing final report. In contrast to this study, similar Danish studies on traitors found that the frequency of abnormal mental conditions among traitors did not exceed what one might expect of an average population (285). One of these studies concluded that the collaborator problem was a “predominantly social” one. Why did Norwegian psychiatrists attempt to demonstrate the viability of their working hypothesis that a large percentage of collaborators were psychiatric cases? Gioever speculates that, when the relatively high membership figures of the Norwegian National Socialist Party was revealed, it may have been considered a threat to the new Norwegian democracy. (As a matter of fact, Norway stood alone among the former collaborationist governments to prosecute almost every single member of its Nazi party [Giover 288]). However, if it could be proven that the traitors were insane, then they could be regarded no longer as a dangerous element against democracy, but rather, as a problem for the psychiatric health service. The interesting case of the popular Norwegian author and Nobel laureate Knut Hamsun suggests another explanation. During the war Hamsun expressed his Nazi sympathies and even wrote an obituary a day after Hitler’s death prais- Hauntings of the Traumatic Past in Maas’s Film Two Lives 215 ing Hitler as a “great statesman.” Although the Hamsun case legally would have been clearly one of collaboration, he was never sentenced because forensic psychiatrists Gabriel Langfeldt and Ornulv Odegard declared that he had “poorly developed or chronically weakened mental capacities” (Giover 287). It has been suggested that Hamsun’s diagnosis may have been motivated more by political concerns than psychiatric criteria (Giover 288). However, I would like to suggest that declaring this beloved author and other Norwegian collaborators as mentally insane or, at least, defective, served another purpose. Hamsun’s diagnosis and the Norwegian psychiatric studies that linked collaboration to insanity also may have served to exculpate the general Norwegian population for any responsibility in the collaboration, because the collaborators and Norwegian “fraternizers” and their children functioned as scapegoats upon which Norwegians could project any residual sense of guilt for the Quisling government. The heroic narrative of the Norwegian resistance could remain intact and any counternarratives of collaboration or betrayal could be explained by the insanity defense. Thus if collaborators and fraternizers were regarded as not “normal” Norwegians, but defective both mentally and morally, then the rest of the population could be excused from any responsibility for the “sins” of their nation. In the case of the fraternizers and their offspring, it is a familiar tactic of blaming the victims that also rationalizes treating them poorly. Furthermore, could the demonizing, brutal treatment and neglect of fraternizers and their offspring, painful reminders of the Norwegian collaborationist government, serve as a cathartic purging of the country’s own dark past? One could pose the same question in other occupied countries such as France, in which Germans’ lovers were publicly ridiculed and tormented. However, the demands of Lebensborn children for recognition of past maltreatment and the need for reparations as well as works of popular culture such as Hippe’s novel and its film adaptation confirm that past trauma continues to haunt the survivors on an individual and collective level. As Faulkner claimed, “The past is never dead. It is not even past.” Works Cited Blatz, Craig W., and Michael Ross. “Historical Memories.” Memory in Mind and Culture � Ed. Pascal Boyer and James V. Wertsch. New York: Cambridge UP , 2009. 223—37. Blight, David W. “The Memory Boom: Why and Why Now? ” Memory in Mind and Culture . Ed. Pascal Boyer and James V. Wertsch. New York: Cambridge UP , 2009. 238—51. Clay, Catrine, and Michael Leapman. Master Race: The Lebensborn Experiment in Nazi Germany . London: Hodder and Stoughton, 1995. 216 Margarete Landwehr Corell, Syne, “The Solidity of a National Narrative: The German Occupation in Norwegian History Culture.” Nordic Narratives of the Second World War: National Historiographies Revisited . Ed. Henrik Stenius, Mirja Oesterberg and Johan Ostling. Lund: Nordic Academic Press, 2011. 101—26. Drolshagen, Ebba D. “Besatzungskinder and Wehrmachtskinder: Germany’s War Children.” Children of World War II : The Hidden Enemy Legacy . Ed. Kjersti Ericsson and Eva Simonsen. Oxford / New York: Berg, 2005. 229—48. Ericsson, Kjersti, and Dag Ellingsen. “Life Stories of Norwegian War Children.” Children of World War II : The Hidden Enemy Legacy . Ed. Kjersti Ericsson and Eva Simonsen. Oxford / New York: Berg, 2005. 93—111. Gioever, Oyvind. “The Psychiatry of Quislingism: Norwegian Psychiatric Research on the Collaborators of World War II .” Science in Context 17.3 (2004): 267—92. Grover, Sonja. “The Lebensborn Children of Norway and the Silencing of their Voices by an International Court: An Analysis of the 2007 European Court of Human Rights Decision in Werner Hermann Thiermann and Others v. Norway.” The International Journal of Interdisciplinary Social Sciences 5.8 (2010): 25—36. Harder, SS -Obersturmführer. “Übersicht über das Arbeitsgebiet der Abteilung C2 [Ru- SHA ] (Wiedereindeutschung).” Sept. 25, 1942. Misc. SS Files / SS -1597 / Box 5. Henry, Clarissa, and Marc Hillel. Of Pure Blood . Trans. Eric Mossbacher. New York: McGraw-Hill, 1976. Herman, Judith. Trauma and Recovery: The Aftermath of Violence from Domestic Abuse to Political Terror. New York: Basic Books, 1997. Janet, Pierre. L’évolution de la mémoire et la notion du temps . Paris: Cahine, 1928. Joshi, Vandana. “Maternalism, Race, Class and Citizenship: Aspects of Illegitimate Motherhood in Nazi Germany.” Journal of Contemporary History 46.4 (2011): 832—53. Kammerer, Steffi. “Verdammt, deutsch zu sein. Lebenslänglich Lebensborn : Wie die Kinder deutscher Besatzer in Norwegen unter ihrem Schicksal zu leiden hatten.” Süddeutsche Zeitung 7 July 2001. Web. 4 Jan. 2016. Kolk, Bessel van der. The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma . New York: Random House, 2014. —. “The Body Keeps the Score: Memory and the Evolving Psychobiology of Post-traumatic Stress.” Harvard Review of Psychiatry 1.5 (1994): 253—65. —. “Clinical Implications of Neuroscience Research in PTSD .” Annals of the New York Academy of Sciences 1071 (2006): 277—93. Kolk, Bessel van der, and Onno van der Hart. “The Intrusive Past: The Flexibility of Memory and the Engraving of Trauma.” Trauma: Explorations in Memory . Ed. Cathy Caruth. Baltimore / London: Johns Hopkins UP , 1995. 158—82. Kolk, Bessel van der, and Charles P. Ducey. “The Psychological Processing of Traumatic Experience: Rorschach Patterns in PTSD .” Journal of Traumatic Stress 2.3 (1989): 259—74. Koop, Volker. “Dem Führer ein Kind schenken: Die Ehe, satanisch.” Süddeutsche Zeitung 19 May 2010. Web. 4 Jan. 2016. Hauntings of the Traumatic Past in Maas’s Film Two Lives 217 Kunst, Lothar. “45 Jahre, kriegsbeschädigt: Über das Schicksal norwegischer Kinder deutscher Soldaten.” Zeit Online 11 Sept. 1987. Web. 4 Jan. 2016. Macolo, Georg, and Hajo Schumacher. “Kinder für Führer und Stasi.” Der Spiegel 25 (1997): 72—73. —. “Das ist wirklich bodenlos: Wie die DDR drei norwegischen Lebensborn Kindern ihre Biographie raubte.” Der Spiegel 25 (1997): 74—85. Mandler, J. M. “Categorical and Schematic Organization of Memory.” Memory—Organization and Structure . Ed. C. Richard Puff. New York: Academic, 1979. n. pag. Noakes, Jeremy, ed. Nazism 1919—1945, Vol. 4: The German Home Front in World War II . Exeter: Exeter UP , 1998. Olsen, Kare. “Under the Care of Lebensborn : Norwegian War Children and their Mothers.” Children of World War II : The Hidden Enemy Legacy . Ed. Kjersti Ericsson and Eva Simonsen. Oxford / New York: Berg, 2005. 15—34. —. Schicksal Lebensborn : Die Kinder der Schande und ihrer Mütter . Munich: Knaur, 2004. Puff, C. Richard, ed. Memory—Organization and Structure . New York: Academic, 1979. Schacter, Daniel. “Implicit Memory: History and Current Status.” Journal of Experimental Psychology: Learning, Memory and Cognition 13.3 (1987): 501—18. Schmitz-Koester, Dorothee. “A Topic for Life: Children of German Lebensborn Homes.” Children of World War II : The Hidden Enemy Legacy . Ed. Kjersti Ericsson and Eva Simonsen. Oxford / New York: Berg, 2005. 213—28. Simonsen, Eva. “Children in Danger: Dangerous Children.” Children of World War II : The Hidden Enemy Legacy . Ed. Kjersti Ericsson and Eva Simonsen. Oxford / New York: Berg, 2005. 269—86. Thompson, Larry V. “ Lebensborn and the Eugenics Policy of the Reichsführer- SS .” Central European History 4.1 (1971): 54—77. Wertsch, James V. “Collective Memory.” Memory in Mind and Culture . Ed. Pascal Boyer and James V. Wertsch. New York: Cambridge UP , 2009. 117—37.