Marie Jahoda 1907-2001

Marie Jahoda über ihre Haft

Wien, 27. November 1936 bis 15. Juli 1937

Ich bin, alles zusammen, ungefähr neun Monate drin gewesen,^¹ die letzten drei Monate in einer Gemeinschaftszelle, in der es Kriminelle gegeben hat und Politische. Ich habe damals versucht, allerhand Schule zu organisieren. Wir haben Geschichte gelernt und Französisch: aber es war eine sehr hysterische Situation natürlich, mit ungefähr zwanzig Frauen in der Zelle.

Mathias Greffrath: »Ich habe die Welt nicht verändert.« Gespräch mit Marie Jahoda, in: Die Zerstörung einer Zukunft. Gespräche mit emigrierten Sozialwissenschaftlern. Aufgezeichnet von Mathias Greffrath. Reinbek bei Hamburg: Rowohlt 1979 (= das neue buch. 123.), S. 103–144, hier S. 133.

Under the Austro-fascist regime, Viennese prisons were just prisons, not KZs. There was no physical torture. By far their worst physical feature was the atrocious state of hygiene. Worms in the pea soup, bed bugs in their thousands. With the former we dealt by a hunger strike. The first day was tough. The second felt not quite so bad. On the third, the Governor, suspecting me of having started it had me brought to his office. He answered my explanation in unforgettable words: If we gave you decent food, we would have the whole population of Vienna in here. But there were no more soups with worms. No strike against bed bugs was, alas possible. During the day, there was no possibility to lie down. At 5 pm a dirty straw sack and an equally dirty blanket were thrown into the cell. The first night, I did not undress, lay down but was determined not to use the blanket. The electric light was on all night, so that the warden could observe us. Then the march of the bugs in single file along the ceiling began. As soon as one was above my face, it dropped. Before I knew what I did I was under the dirty blanket. I wonder whether anybody has ever studied the visual acuity of bed bugs. […]
I got company in the one-person cell^² because of overcrowding, mostly criminals. One of them said to me: you belong in prison, but I only borrowed the fur coat of the lady I worked for. I pawned it. If I had had any money, I would have given it back. I asked another woman, a highly skilled pick-pocket to explain her technique. She didn’t, but a pair of my stockings disappeared for good. The greatest change was that I could once every two weeks get a letter, censored of course, write a postcard, receive books and food parcels and, above all, visitors. My first visitor was Edi [Jahoda] who told me that there had been only two news items in the press, the abdication of the English King and my imprisonment.^³ I asked for a Spanish grammar. The police officer who had to check everything my mother [i.e. Betty Jahoda, née Propst] brought me rejected it because one mustn’t learn revolutionary languages in prison. It was the time of the Spanish Civil War.^⁴ Next time, she tried an English novel. Rejected with the remark: We haven’t got a translator for every obscure language that your daughter speaks.
In spite of such occasional amusements, my time in jail was much worse for my mother and for Lotte [Lazarsfeld, married Bailyn] than it was for me. The family had told Lotte that I had suddenly had to go on a journey, that I would soon be back and that in the meantime, she would live with my mother and continue in the Montessori School,^⁵ in the belief that the truth would be too much of a shock for the 6 year-old. Did she ever believe it? I doubt it. […]
I had only two very bad experiences in prison. One of the women wardens was a socialist and in touch with the underground organisation. One day, when she escorted me to the fortnightly hot shower in the basement – on other days hygiene consisted of 2 minutes at an ice-cold running tap in the corridor, accompanied by shouts »hurry up, you aren’t in a beauty parlour« – she whispered to me: Your friends said to tell you that you shouldn’t give away any names. This was shattering. My morale depended on the belief that my friends knew they could trust me. Did they now suspect me of treason?
The other experience was just as bad, but for different reasons. Every morning I was taken by two wardens to walk alone – I was still in solitary – for 20 minutes around a neglected green patch in the prison yard. I felt like a circus horse. One day, I stopped and changed directions. The wardens screamed at me: If I didn’t turn round again, they’d cut the walk short, they weren’t there to indulge the whims of a dirty bitch, etc. Two things upset me. First, that I obeyed immediately and they laughed; but even more, their mindless lust for exercising their power in this nonsensical demand, their virulent hatred, their pleasure in humiliating me. Never before had I been the victim of such vicious malice; and never since. I guess I am lucky.

Marie Jahoda Albu: Reconstructions. [Keymer, Sussex: Published by the author] 1996, S. 52–53, 55–57.

1 Genau genommen waren es 231 Tage, also etwa achteinhalb Monate, zunächst in Anhaltehaft in der Bundes-Polizeidirektion, seit 27. Februar 1937 in Untersuchungshaft im Gefangenenhaus des Landesgerichts für Strafsachen Wien 1. Anmerkung Reinhard Müller.

2 Es handelt sich hier bereits um Marie Jahodas Untersuchungshaft im Gefangenenhaus des Landesgerichts für Strafsachen Wien 1. Anmerkung Reinhard Müller.

3 Eduard VIII von Sachsen-Coburg-Gotha (White Lodge [zu London] 1894 – Neuilly-sur-Seine, Hauts-de-Seine 1972): seit 2. Januar 1936 König von Großbritannien und Irland; dankte am 11. Dezember 1936 wegen der von Parlament und Anglikanischer Kirche nicht akzeptierten Heirat mit einer geschiedenen Amerikanerin ab und ging ins Ausland. Über Marie Jahodas Verhaftung und Verurteilung siehe die Presseartikel. Anmerkung Reinhard Müller.

4 Spanischer Bürgerkrieg: Krieg faschistischer und teils konservativer Kräfte gegen die von Kommunisten, Sozialisten, Anarchisten und Liberalen verteidigte Zweite spanische Republik 1936 bis 1939, der mit dem Sieg der von deutschen und italienischen Truppen unterstützten Faschisten endete. Anmerkung Reinhard Müller.

5 Montessori-Schulen: nach der italienischen Ärztin und Pädagogin Maria Montessori (Chiaravalle, Marche 1870 – Noordwijk aan Zee, Zuid-Holland 1953) benannte, auf ihren pädagogischen Konzepten beruhende Schulen, in denen Schüler und Schülerinnen mit pädagogischer Unterstützung Arbeits- und Übungsmaterialien in konzentrierter Einzelarbeit erlernen sollen, nach dem Motto: »Hilf mir, es selbst zu tun«. Dabei werden mehrere Jahrgänge von Schülern und Schülerinnen einander lose zugeordnet. Anmerkung Reinhard Müller.

VERFOLGUNG & VERTREIBUNG
Verhaftung
Pressereaktionen
Beschlagnahmungen
Vernehmungen
unheimliche Heiterkeit
schreckliche Bilder
5. Jänner 1937
Polizeibericht 1
Polizeibericht 2
Haftbedingungen
Gedichte aus der Haft
Erfahrungen aus der Haft
Brief an Horkheimer
internat. Fürsprache
abgelehntes Gnadengesuch
Anklage
Hauptverhandlung
Urteil
politische Intervention
Vertreibung