On 'First They Came'

Why Martin Niemöller’s famous warning isn’t being heeded.

First they came for the Socialists

And I did not speak out

Because I was not a Socialist

Then they came for the trade unionists

And I did not speak out

Because I was not a trade unionist

Then they came for the Jews

And I did not speak out

Because I was not a Jew

Then they came for me

And there was no one left

To speak out for me

It would be wrong to say that Martin Niemöller’s poem has been “making the rounds” in light of Donald Trump’s pitiless approach to deporting undocumented immigrants. Niemöller’s words don’t have to “make the rounds.” They’re burned in. We think about them even when we aren’t thinking about them. There may be no better known caution against allowing a repressive government to mistreat out-groups.

The hair-pulling frustration felt at Trump’s actions, and at his supporters’ inaction in the face of them, is informed by so many having internalized ‘First They Came.’ Here we are, living through the poem’s first lines, while many of our neighbors appear to have forgotten how it ends.

This confusion comes from a misunderstanding of context and perspective. It’s a matter of point of view. We assume audiences will cast themselves as “me” in the last line. But “me” isn’t the poem’s only character.

“First They Came” wasn’t a poem drafted in the conventional sense. It wasn’t recited during a sermon or submitted for publication by a literary magazine. Instead, Niemöller, a theologian and Lutheran minister, reptead the themes that ultimately formed “First They Came” in a series of speeches he gave after the Second World War. He’d spent the war years as a prisoner of the Nazis, owing to his fiery agitation against them from his pulpit. Niemöller’s “me” was indeed him.

Several versions exist. In perhaps the best known construction, the progression of groups “they” come for goes: socialists, trade unionists, then Jews. Other variants swap communists for socialists, or get to Jews sooner. Some add Jehovah’s Witnesses, homosexuals, or the disabled. Niemöller himself changed the targets according to his audience, and we, the interpreters, are always invited to make our own substitutions. Niemöller may never have specifically referenced “undocumented immigrants,” but their inclusion now would be neither inappropriate nor thematically inconsistent.

The message resonates across all iterations: what “they” can do to your neighbors, “they” can do to you. You are not exempt. “They” will get around to you. This isn’t a misreading of the poem, per se, but it somewhat is a misreading of Niemöller, and of his “me.”

Martin Niemöller was not merely an ordinary German caught up in the Third Reich’s bloody consolidation of power. He was a vocal and powerful activist, one initially sympathetic to the Nazi cause. He grew skeptical only when, as he saw it, the Nazis began overstepping their mandate. His particular grievance was that they had begun to interfere with the Church, an action he regarded as a betrayal.

When he ultimately spoke out, he did so knowing that he would be arrested, or worse; a great credit to his personal bravery and conviction. Though his biography may also help us understand why not all listeners come away from his poem having learned the same lesson.

Niemöller could easily have avoided his fate. He was warned many times that he was getting on the Nazis’ bad side, yet continued to poke the tiger in the eye. Even upon his predictable arrest, he was given an initially light sentence, only to suffer lengthy detainment after Hitler intervened to make him his personal prisoner: quite the distinction.

In light of this though, a studious reading of “First They Came” could suggest something other than just the importance of speaking out early against oppression. It might, less romantically, be considered an instruction manual for how to avoid becoming “me” in the first place. Stay mum, keep your head down, and “they” might not come for you at all, is a not illogical way to interpret this narrative in view of its actual history.

This alternate take is disappointing, dangerous even. But a yet more sinister analysis exists in reaction to “First They Came,” born also of disagreement over terms, perspective, and casting.

Niemöller meant “came for” literally; arrest, imprisonment, perhaps execution. Our own threshold for recalling his words is much lower. “Came for” needn’t involve handcuffs or cells, it might mean unfavorable legislation or legal restriction. It could be discrimination, real or perceived, or even just unkind words spoken by the powerful. This is intentional and encouraged. Like substituting in and out the targeted groups to suit the moment, we are expected to interpret “came for” loosely, so as to lengthen the broadcast range of the alarm.

Niemöller also assumed - correctly, in the desolate context of postwar Germany - that his audience included few members of the groups already “come for” by the time “me” realizes their mistake. The first lines of “First They Came,” describe any group that “me” - or we, the readers - presumably did not care enough about to defend.

In this negotiability is the poem’s brilliance. Also, its greatest weakness.

For what happens when a listener interprets “came for” to mean a thing they have already experienced? If, by the time they are asked to place themselves in the shoes of “me,” they feel they’ve already been dealt with?

A reader who sees themself in the first, rather than the last lines is ruined too early for “me’s” awakening to matter to them. “Me,” by having failed to speak out, has already let them down.

This discrepancy does more than just limit the poem’s appeal for those who feel victimized. To an audience regarding itself as already maligned, the story doesn’t ring hollow, so much as offer testimony to the value of becoming “they.”

After all, “they” are the only characters to survive intact. Nobody ever comes for “they.” “They” do the coming. “They” are, in the eternal words of Walter White, “the ones who knock.”

It couldn’t be less relevant whether we consider the underlying claim of victimization to be valid or not. As we’ve established, our terms - Niemöller’s terms - are elastic.

Donald Trump is presumed to have at his back an army of the angry and aggrieved. Perhaps they too have read “First They Came.” Perhaps they just understood it differently.