The German Detective Hunting Down The Last Nazis In Brazil

More than 70 years after the end of World War II, Uwe Steinz wants to bring the Nazis' "lower clergy" to justice.

Twins who were kept allive as part of Josef Mengele's experiments at Auschwitz. The Nazi doctor lived for decades in Brazil without ever being captured.
Twins who were kept allive as part of Josef Mengele's experiments at Auschwitz. The Nazi doctor lived for decades in Brazil without ever being captured.
Anna Virginia Balloussier

RIO DE JANEIRO â€" The Third Reich collapsed 71 years ago, forcing Nazis of all ranks to flee Germany en masse, like rats scurrying off a sinking ship. Many found refuge in Latin America.

German police detective Uwe Steinz, 58, still hopes he can track down some of those responsible for the genocide of Jews during World War II â€" and that he will find them alive. Having fought organized crime and prostitution in his own country, Steinz now makes his living "hunting Nazis," and he's convinced that the place to look is in Brazil.

Since 2009, the official from Germany’s central office for investigating Nazi war crimes has already visited Rio de Janeiro’s National Archives 14 times. Steinz is combing through the records of five million immigrants, looking for German nationals born between 1916 and 1931. If people fit the bill, their data is sent back to Germany, so the central office can check whether they'd ever worked for the Third Reich.

Most of the names Steinz finds belong to legitimate war refugees, but there are also "criminals," he says. They're now between 85 and 100 years old, the maximum age for imprisonment according to German law. The youngest would have been 14 at the end of the war, possibly former members of the Hitler Youth.

"It's like looking for a needle in a haystack," says Mauro Lerner, coordinator at the National Archives.

Monica Marraccini, Steinz's personal interpreter, notes that often when the "needle" is found, the person in question turns out to be already dead.

Take the example of a man who'd lived in the southern Brazilian state of Paraná. Among all the records analyzed by Steinz and his team (comprised of an assistant and an intern), a single name had matched what they were looking for. It belonged to a man who had indeed served in the Nazi regime, but died more than three decades ago. He had been a member of the infamous Einsatzgruppen, Nazi Germany's death squads, in the Ukraine, before settling down for a peaceful life in Paraná. He died in 1986 of old age. Steinz prefers not to reveal the man’s name to protect his family members, who are well settled in the area.

Is Dr. Death alive?

There are other cases that likewise seem to be closed. But they only seem that way, Steinz insists. As an example, he mentions Aribert Heim, also known as Dr. Death, who survivors said used to decorate his office with the skulls of Jews. Heim was reported to have died in 1992, at the age of 78, in Cairo.

"But I'm not certain he's dead," Steinz says, without further clarifying Heim’s potential whereabouts. Should he still be alive, Dr. Death would be 102.

Steinz with his files â€" Photo: Mauro Pimentel/Folhapress

During his last visit to Brazil, Steinz jotted down 423 names to bring back to Germany. The investigator’s work in Brazil is far from being done. He’s got another five years at least, Mauro Lerner believes. Steinz is due to retire in two years.

He didn't come to go after big SS fish: Those former paramilitary officers were older, and are most likely dead. Instead, Steinz is after what he calls the "lower clergy," like former guards and controllers in concentration camps.

Steinz first came to check the immigration registers following a tip from Maria Luiza Tucci Carneiro, a professor at the University of São Paulo who's writing a book on "the Reich's missionaries," due to be released in August. In it, she explains how Nazis used Brazil as a shelter.

"And they didn't always arrive with a fake identity, given that the local governments of that time were Germanophile and anti-Semitic," she says.

Josef Mengele, the "Angel of Death" who served as a physician in Auschwitz, where he selected those fit to work and those who should be exterminated in the gas chambers, is the most famous of Nazis who settled in Brazil. He died in 1979 at the age of 67, apparently suffering a heart attack and drowning at the coastal resort of Bertioga, in the São Paulo state. He never went on trial for his crimes.

But Mengele was by no means the only high-profile Nazi to seek refuge in Brazil. There were also Herbert Cukurs, who later rented out paddle boats, and Franz Stangl, who ended up working in a Volkswagen factory. Captured in 1967, Stangl was extradited to Germany and was sentenced to life imprisonment for his role in the death of 900,000 people.

"My conscience is clear," he said then.

Rats be damned.

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What It Means When The Jews Of Germany No Longer Feel Safe

A neo-Nazi has been buried in the former grave of a Jewish musicologist Max Friedlaender – not an oversight, but a deliberate provocation. This is just one more example of antisemitism on the rise in Germany, and society's inability to respond.

At a protest against antisemitism in Berlin

Eva Marie Kogel


BERLIN — If you want to check the state of your society, there's a simple test: as the U.S. High Commissioner for Germany, John Jay McCloy, said in 1949, the touchstone for a democracy is the well-being of Jews. This litmus test is still relevant today. And it seems Germany would not pass.

Incidents are piling up. Most recently, groups of neo-Nazis from across the country traveled to a church near Berlin for the funeral of a well-known far-right figure. He was buried in the former grave of Jewish musicologist Max Friedlaender, a gravesite chosen deliberately by the right-wing extremists.

The incident at the cemetery

They intentionally chose a Jewish grave as an act of provocation, trying to gain maximum publicity for this act of desecration. And the cemetery authorities at the graveyard in Stahnsdorf fell for it. The church issued an immediate apology, calling it a "terrible mistake" and saying they "must immediately see whether and what we can undo."

There are so many incidents that get little to no media attention.

It's unfathomable that this burial was allowed to take place at all, but now the cemetery authorities need to make a decision quickly about how to put things right. Otherwise, the grave may well become a pilgrimage site for Holocaust deniers and antisemites.

The incident has garnered attention in the international press and it will live long in the memory. Like the case of singer-songwriter Gil Ofarim, who recently claimed he was subjected to antisemitic abuse at a hotel in Leipzig. Details of the crime are still being investigated. But there are so many other incidents that get little to no media attention.

Photo of the grave of Jewish musicologist Max Friedlaender

The grave of Jewish musicologist Max Friedlaender

Jens Kalaene/dpa/ZUMA

Crimes against Jews are rising

Across all parts of society, antisemitism is on the rise. Until a few years ago, Jewish life was seen as an accepted part of German society. Since the attack on the synagogue in Halle in 2019, the picture has changed: it was a bitter reminder that right-wing terror against Jewish people has a long, unbroken history in Germany.

Stories have abounded about the coronavirus crisis being a Jewish conspiracy; meanwhile, Muslim antisemitism is becoming louder and more forceful. The anti-Israel boycott movement BDS rears its head in every debate on antisemitism, just as left-wing or post-colonial thinking are part of every discussion.

Jewish life needs to be allowed to step out of the shadows.

Since 2015, the number of antisemitic crimes recorded has risen by about a third, to 2,350. But victims only report around 20% of cases. Some choose not to because they've had bad experiences with the police, others because they're afraid of the perpetrators, and still others because they just want to put it behind them. Victims clearly hold out little hope of useful reaction from the state – so crimes go unreported.

And the reality of Jewish life in Germany is a dark one. Sociologists say that Jewish children are living out their "identity under siege." What impact does it have on them when they can only go to nursery under police protection? Or when they hear Holocaust jokes at school?

Germany needs to take its antisemitism seriously

This shows that the country of commemorative services and "stumbling blocks" placed in sidewalks as a memorial to victims of the Nazis has lost its moral compass. To make it point true north again, antisemitism needs to be documented from the perspective of those affected, making it visible to the non-Jewish population. And Jewish life needs to be allowed to step out of the shadows.

That is the first thing. The second is that we need to talk about specifically German forms of antisemitism. For example, the fact that in no other EU country are Jewish people so often confronted about the Israeli government's policies (according to a survey, 41% of German Jews have experienced this, while the EU average is 28%). Projecting the old antisemitism onto the state of Israel offers people a more comfortable target for their arguments.

Our society needs to have more conversations about antisemitism. The test of German democracy, as McCloy called it, starts with taking these concerns seriously and talking about them. We need to have these conversations because it affects all of us. It's about saving our democracy. Before it's too late.

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