August Landmesser: The Story Of The Man Behind The Crossed Arms Who Stood Defiant Against the Tide of Tyranny

In the Face of Tyranny: August Landmesser’s Symbolic Resistance

There are moments captured in time that speak volumes about the human spirit’s capacity for courage in the face of overwhelming odds. One such moment is crystallized in a photograph taken on June 13, 1936, at the Blohm+Voss shipyard in Hamburg. Amidst a sea of arms raised in Nazi salute, one man stands apart, his arms defiantly crossed. This man was August Landmesser, and his story is a testament to the power of individual conscience and the strength of love in the darkest of times.

As philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer once observed, “What the herd hates most is the one who thinks differently; it is not so much the opinion itself, but the audacity of wanting to think for themselves, something that they do not know how to do.” Landmesser embodied this audacity, choosing love and moral conviction over the safety of conformity.

Landmesser’s journey is a cautionary tale of how easily one can be swept up by the currents of authoritarianism, and how profound personal experiences can awaken our moral compass. He joined the Nazi Party in 1931, seeking a sense of belonging and purpose in a fractured society.

Yet, love would prove to be his salvation and his crucible. In 1934, he met Irma Eckler, a Jewish woman, and their relationship would set him on a collision course with the regime he once embraced.

The Landmesser family’s story is a poignant testament to the human cost of totalitarianism and the enduring power of love in the face of unspeakable adversity. August Landmesser and Irma Eckler’s attempt to marry in 1935 was thwarted by the infamous Nuremberg Laws, a cruel edict designed to preserve so-called “racial purity.” Undeterred, they welcomed their daughter, Ingrid, that same year, their love a quiet rebellion against an increasingly oppressive regime.

It was against this backdrop of personal defiance that Landmesser made his silent protest, refusing to salute Hitler at the shipyard rally. This act of nonconformity was more than mere rebellion; it was a profound assertion of human dignity. In that moment, Landmesser chose to honour his love for Irma and their child over the demands of a tyrannical state. His crossed arms spoke louder than any shouted slogan, declaring to the world and to history that one man’s conscience could stand firm against the tide of hate.

The consequences of their defiance were severe and far-reaching. Arrested on July 28, 1937, while attempting to flee to Denmark, Landmesser was separated from Irma just days before the birth of their second daughter, Irene. Though initially acquitted in May 1938 due to insufficient evidence, August’s return to Irma led to his re-arrest in July for another act of Rassenschande, “racial disgrace”.

The family was torn apart. August was sentenced to two and a half years and sent to Börgermoor Prison Camp, where inmates were used for forced labour in armament factories and shipyards, while Irma was sent to the concentration camps.

Their children faced a harrowing journey through orphanages and foster care. Ingrid, classified as “Mischling” (mixed race), was eventually raised by her grandmother. Irene, classified as Jewish, endured physical abuse, narrowly escaped deportation, and spent years in hiding.

Irma continued to be shuttled between various internment camps: Oranienburg, Lichtenburg, and Ravensbrück. Irma was eventually transferred to the Bernburg death camp in 1942, where she was murdered in the gas chamber.

Meanwhile, Landmesser was discharged from prison on 19 January 1941. He worked as a foreman for the haulage company Püst. The company had a branch at the Heinkel-Werke (factory) in Warnemünde.

In February 1944 he was drafted into a penal battalion, the 999th Fort Infantry Battalion. After fighting in Croatia on 17 October 1944, August Landmesser was killed in action. Both August and Eckler were declared legally dead in 1949.

Their legacy lived on through their daughters. Ingrid Eckling (later Landmesser) was born in 1935 before the Nuremberg Laws went into effect, so she was classified as Mischling (half-cast). She therefore escaped much of the anti-Jewish persecution of the Nazi era. Ingrid stayed with her maternal grandmother until adulthood.

Ingrid’s younger sister Irene, born in 1937, was classified as a Jew, which meant she was eventually subject to carrying an ID card and wearing a yellow star at all times. After a period in an orphanage in which she suffered physical abuse, Irene was taken in by a foster family named Krause in 1940 and then by the Proskauer family in 1941.

She was unofficially renamed Reni Proskauer. Around this time, the father, Erwill Proskauer, who was Jewish, was made to perform forced labour. In 1942 Irene, who was five years old, was picked up by a group of Jewish orphans and was to be sent to the camps.

However, an acquaintance grabbed her out of the group and disappeared into the crowd. “Auntie Schneemann” took Irene to Austria for several months. She was the only survivor of the group of orphans.

Upon her return to Hamburg, Irene was hidden in a hospital ward, during which time her Jewish ID card was “lost.” In 1943, Frau Proskauer, afraid her daughter “Reni” would be exposed as a Jew, absconded with the girl to Calvörde in Brandenburg and hid until the end of the war. Erwill Proskauer had no idea where his wife had gone.

After the war, the Proskauers never officially adopted Irene, and turmoil in the family caused her to move in and out of an orphanage. She eventually contacted her sister Ingrid and began to research the family history.

The tragedy of the Landmesser family serves as a stark reminder of the human cost of totalitarianism. Yet, paradoxically, it also stands as a beacon of hope. In an era where it’s easy to feel powerless against the machinations of governments and the pressures of society, Landmesser’s example reminds us of the impact one individual can have.

Today, as we face our own challenges to freedom and human rights, Landmesser’s defiant stance continues to resonate. It calls us to question, to think critically, and to stand firm in our convictions, even when it seems the whole world is marching in lockstep in the opposite direction.

The photograph of August Landmesser is more than a historical curiosity; it is a challenge to each of us. In our daily lives, in ways big and small, we are called to decide whether we will raise our arms in blind obedience or fold them in principled dissent. Will we succumb to the comfort of conformity, or will we have the courage to stand apart when our conscience demands it?

As we reflect on Landmesser’s legacy, let us remember that the most profound acts of heroism often come not in grand gestures, but in small moments of moral clarity. In a world that often seems to be spinning out of control, we each have the power to be an August Landmesser – to stand tall, to think for ourselves, and to choose love and humanity over hatred and division.

The choice is ours. Will we salute, or will we stand with Crossed Arms refusing to conform to authoritarianism?

The Landmesser family’s tragic history under the Nazi regime is chronicled in Irene Messer’s book “A Family Torn Apart by “Rassenschande,“ of which a large part is available online in English.