In a conversation with Edith Stein and Frtiz Kaufmann about his enlistment in the army, Adolf Reinach said: “it is not that I must go; rather I’m permitted to go.”  After Germany’s declaration of war on France in the summer of 1914, Reinach, like many German intellectuals, immediately volunteered for the army with great enthusiasm, even attempting to exercise pressure to be admitted as quickly as possible. He was recruited in his hometown of Mainz in mid-August, and after two weeks of training he was assigned to the reserve battery of the 21^st Field Artillery Regiment of the 21^st Reserve Division under the command of his younger brother, Heinrich.  By February of 1915, he was fighting in the trenches against France, and later he received the Iron Cross for his efforts during this time.  In a letter written in 1915 to Conrad-Martius, Reinach wrote “We have lost so many a young gifted worker through the War, and I, too, do not know whether I shall be returning home.” By November of 1915, Reinach was stationed in Belgium, serving the supply lines to the front, and in October of 1916 he was promoted to commander of the 185^th Field Artillery Regiment.  On the 16^th of November 1917, Reinach died on the battlefield in Flanders, at the age of 34.

Edmund Husserl also lost his youngest son to the battlefield of WWI – Wolfgang – and many students, including Rudolf Clemens and Fritz Frankfurter.

Edith Stein, student of Reinach and Husserl, Carmelite Nun, and a brilliant phenomenologist in her own right, was executed in the gas chamber of Auschwitz Concentration Camp by the Nazis.  Later in 1998, she would be canonized by John Paul II, celebrated as a scholar, saint and martyr.

Remembrance Day for early phenomenology scholars, I think, is somewhat bittersweet and conflicted.  We honour and are proud of our men and women who fought in WWI, WWII, and the other battles that have marked the 20th and 21st centuries.  And yet many of us study Germans who, like Reinach, felt compelled to fight for Germany against the Allied Forces.  History teaches us why the war had to be fought, and why the results were for the greater good. But, in my case, I also adore Reinach, as a scholar and as a person, and the thought of him falling at the hands of Canadians in Flanders saddens me.  I guess this is the reality of war; it isn’t simply good vs evil – it’s people vs people.

Both wars of the 20th century forever changed the philosophical landscape, and especially for phenomenology:  (1) Reinach and other students killed in WWI had a great impact on the legacy of early phenomenology then did the move of Husserl to Freiburg (While Husserl was the founder of phenomenology, many of the students in Göttingen considered Reinach to be their teacher); (2) WWII and the Nazi campaign to persecute and execute  scholars and ethnic Jews meant that the remaining early phenomenologists ended up scattered all over the globe or dead, never to reconvene again.  The Bergzabern Circle tried in the 1920’s, and while their efforts were admirable it wasn’t quite the same as it had been in Göttingen. Regrettable, even some of the members of the phenomenological movement were themselves Nazi sympathizers who greatly contributed to the obscure and obsolete status of early phenomenology.  Luckily enough, the spirit, efforts, and some writings survived the Nazis, giving us purpose today.

Lest we forget – the sacrifices of our soldiers, academic and non-academic alike; German, Canadian, American, and everywhere.

— Kimberly