The immigration issue was in fact becoming fodder for conservative politicians in the capital, who now began openly to exploit anti-Semitic themes in electoral politics. As a standard-bearer for the Conservative Party, Adolf Stocker promised to wrest Berlin away from the Progressive Party, which contained in its ranks prominent Jews like Lasker and Ludwig Bamberger. This development presented a dilemma to conservative Jews like Bleichröder, who could stomach neither the Progressives nor their anti-Semitic antagonists. Following the Berlin municipal election of 1881, in which the Conservatives ran anti-Semitic candidates, Bleichröder wrote despairingly: “I faced the choice between the anti-Semite who reviles me, my birth, and my family in the most shameless fashion and the Progressive. I concluded that I had to abstain from the election.” He could only hope that the government would release patriotic Jews from their dilemma by banning the anti-Semitic movement. Such a measure would, he promised in a letter to the kaiser, win the “deepest gratitude” of the Jews and convince them to use “all their energies and means in order to express in the elections their truly patriotic beliefs for Emperor and Reich and Government.” As we shall see, the Berlin Jews’ perplexity in the face of mounting anti-Semitic agitation, along with their hope for government intervention against this evil, would recur in the late Weimar era when the Nazis began their much more systematic attack on the tattered “Berlin-Jewish symbiosis.”
Alarming and dangerous though it was, the anti-Semitic movement failed to make significant gains in Berlin’s electoral politics in the Bismarckian period. Certainly it was a less potent force in the German capital than in Vienna, which also had a large Jewish minority (and where Adolf Hitler would later learn about the uses of anti-Semitic demagogy from Vienna’s Christian-Social mayor, Karl Lueger). In the Reichstag elections of 1881, Germany’s own Christian-Social Party, founded by Stocker, failed to win any of Berlin’s mandates. Moreover, prominent voices in the capital spoke out against the attacks on Jews mounted by Stocker, Treitschke, Marr, and other anti-Semites. A “Declaration of Notables,” signed by university professors, liberal politicians, and a few progressive industrialists, most of them from Berlin, called anti-Semitism a “national disgrace” and warned against reviving this “ancient folly.” The liberal notables seemed to believe, or at least to hope, that modern Germany, especially its ethnically diverse capital, was too sophisticated to allow the triumph of such an antiquated idea.
At the time the Declaration of Notables was published, in 1880, Berlin was beginning to recover somewhat from the depression engendered by the crash of 1873. The recovery was assisted by Germany’s adoption of the gold standard and (finally) the introduction of a single national currency. Also helpful was the fact that the local economy now became dominated by solid industrial firms like Borsig, Siemens, the German Edison Company, and the chemical giant AGFA. These companies were the mainstays of a “second industrial revolution” that would soon catapult Berlin into world prominence in technology.
Even in the midst of its financial bust, moreover, Berlin had embarked on some much-needed infrastructural improvements. To move Berliners more efficiently across the expanding city, a horse-drawn train on rails was introduced in the 1870s. It was quickly succeeded by a circular steam railway system (the Ringbahn) that followed the course of the old city wall, which had been demolished in 1867/68. In 1882 a new