In late 1945, a small self-styled fascist church established itself in southern England, where its members worshipped Adolf Hitler. For the war-weary locals, it was too much: vigilante action was required.
Nazi art never caught on, its architecture was unbuilt or destroyed, but its films were shot and seen by millions. The German dictator was a keen believer in the power of cinema and used it to spread the ideology of his murderous regime.
No historians are seriously suggesting that the Third Reich and the Trump administration are similar phenomena, but that does not mean comparative study of the two cannot shed light on two contrasting periods.
The ‘Nazi who said sorry’ was a master of constructing his own narrative.
New perspectives on the Holocaust are possible if we transcend the limitations of German national history and consider it as a global catastrophe, argues Timothy Snyder.
Another outing for one of the 20th century's most pernicious myths.
The Nazis believed that Islamic forces would prove crucial wartime allies. But, as David Motadel shows, the Muslim world was unwilling to be swayed by the Third Reich's advances.
Historic attachments to heroic leadership combined with a mastery of propaganda techniques to mesmerise Germany into acceptance of the charismatic authority offered by the Führer.
Hitler had taken enthusiastically to his years in the army during the first World War. D.C. Watt describes how, afterwards, the future führer worked with equal zeal — and served his political apprenticeship — as a propagandist for a Bavarian counter-revolutionary army group.
A 90-year-old photograph of the future dictator soon after leaving prison still manages to fool the world’s media outlets.