This article is based on this german article of Martijn Benders: https://martijnbenders.substack.com/p/die-wahre-bedeutung-von-musks-hitlergru
The True Meaning of Musk’s Hitler Salute
It’s exactly the same discussion that emerged years ago when I spoke about the logo of the Vlaamse Canon der Letteren. On the building that Leopold gifted, I see a swastika in the logo. Still do.
See: Literaire canon.be
Marc van Oostendorp responded to that. Either he had truly bad eyesight – which I’m willing to believe – but his core message was: “That wasn’t the intention, and therefore it isn’t so.”
This is where we part ways. What Elon Musk “intended” with his salute is absolutely irrelevant. And then there are people who throw in other dubious politicians, like Hillary Clinton, who make the same gesture, as if that somehow proves it’s not a Nazi salute “because they did it too.”
Not at all! It actually proves that we live in a system that only vaguely resembles a democracy, but is fundamentally totalitarian in the background.
Speaking of Congo: Did you know it was NATO itself that involved SS members in the cruel, racist massacres there? Feel free to take a look for yourselves:
Of course, we could pretend this is a minor issue. But why would it be? And for whom exactly is this a minor issue?
When I see a swastika, I call it a swastika. When I see that swastika on a building gifted by Leopold, the war criminal, to some professors – professors who seem so proud of it, it ends up in the logo – well, I find that appalling. So appalling that I refuse to read another word from these people, let alone endure their censorship games. And these are the people supposed to determine literary canon? Chilling.
No, a Hitler salute remains a Hitler salute. What you “intend” with it is completely irrelevant. That many American politicians routinely make such a salute doesn’t surprise me, but it does not render the gesture an empty symbol.
This brings us to a fundamental problem of symbolic power and its interpretation. Symbols are not neutral entities. They are signs charged with their historical usage, contexts, and consequences. The statement “The black and white is no proof” from Laibach’s Geburt einer Nation could not be more fitting here. It is not the mere presence of a symbol that proves or disproves it; it is the context that shapes it. Yet it is exactly this contextualization that is often ignored in debates – whether intentionally or out of ignorance.
The philosopher Slavoj Žižek argues that ideology often operates where it is not recognized as such. The swastika on a logo or the Hitler salute in a political gesture becomes depoliticized when dismissed as a “misunderstanding” or “coincidence.” But as Žižek emphasizes, the real problem is not what is said but what is left unsaid. It is the silence that cements these symbols in their impact.
In psychology, particularly in archetypal analyses inspired by Carl Jung, it becomes clear that symbols possess a deeply rooted power that resonates with our collective unconscious. A symbol like the swastika is not merely an arbitrary graphic element. It is a manifestation of power, violence, and ideology burned into the psyche. Emptying it of meaning, calling it “neutral,” is an act of repression – a refusal to confront historical reality.
The question remains: Who benefits from excusing symbols? Who benefits from portraying them as “insignificant”? The answer lies in the power structures themselves. A system that tolerates such symbols does not prove its neutrality but rather its willingness to distort history to maintain its own power.
No, I want nothing to do with this canon of laughing men. And that will happen because ceasing to engage with poetry is the only meaningful act of protest against such blunt violence.
The end of this thought is not resignation but a form of resistance that exposes the deeper mechanisms of a totalitarian aesthetic. For the poet’s silence in a world that misuses language and symbolism for violence and oppression is not a sign of surrender. It is a cry louder than words.
The deliberate withdrawal, the refusal to participate in a system that hides behind symbols and strips them of meaning with blunt explanations, does not signify the end of thought or feeling. It creates space – for a new beginning, for a language that remains uncorrupted. Perhaps the poet who remains silent will one day return. But until that day, the silence itself remains a monument.
Martinus Benders, 23-01-2025