On 15 July 1935, a high-ranking delegation from the British Legion, the ex-servicemen’s organisation devoted to furthering peace and good relations between veterans of all nations, was received by Adolf Hitler at the Reich Chancellery in Berlin.

Today this episode is almost forgotten. Yet it is a stark reminder of how readily organisations that may be driven by admirable motives, such as a belief in international fraternity, tolerance and justice, can misread the politics that surround them. In the face of ample evidence of rising antisemitism in Europe, the British Legion misunderstood the character of Nazi racial policies and subsequently paid a heavy reputational price when public opinion turned against it.

At the time, the British Legion counted the meeting with Hitler a considerable success. One delegation member, Colonel George Crosfield, later told the Observer that he found Hitler to be “whole-hearted” about “co-operating to promote better international understanding”.

After a wreath-laying ceremony at the German war memorial in Unter den Linden, the British Legion delegation went on to visit a Hitler Youth holiday camp before being received at the home of then-Aviation Minister Hermann Göring. Some days later, the delegation was treated to a guided tour of the Dachau concentration camp. On returning to England, the Legion’s Chairman, Major Francis Fetherston-Godley, described conditions in Dachau as “very humane” and “quite attractive”.

The Legion had been thoroughly duped. In the Official History of the British Legion published in 1956, Graham Wootton writes that the “extraordinarily fit” prisoners that Major Fetherston-Godley had been introduced to at Dachau were in fact SS men in disguise.

Yet the record shows that the Legion had been fully warned in advance of the real character of Nazi policies. As the Legion became more ambitious during the course of the early 1930s, directing its efforts increasingly into the field of foreign affairs rather than its usual domestic sphere of action such as pensions, employment and welfare, the British Foreign Office had been moved to warn the Legion that the only ex-service organisations that still existed in Germany by 1935 were National Socialist ones. They were highly political and tied inextricably to the new regime, and the Nazis would seek to take advantage of the Legionnaires to improve their international prestige.

Despite such warnings, the Legion pressed ahead with its plan to visit Germany in mid-1935. This was not without support: during the Legion’s annual conference in June 1935, the Prince of Wales personally commended the idea of extending the hand of friendship to former enemies, including to veterans’ organisations in Germany, after the Legion’s President, Sir Frederick Maurice, had suggested that it forge direct links with other veterans’ organisations “irrespective of the side upon which they fought”, reminding the delegates that “we are pledged by our Charter to promote peace and good will... with all nations”.

The Prince’s intervention was warmly received in Germany. According to the Daily Mail’s Berlin correspondent, Deputy Fuhrer Rudolf Hess announced that the Legionnaires would be “received as comrades” and Hermann Göring stated the visit “would help to preserve world peace”.

However, the Legion’s visit to Germany had unexpected repercussions, including animating a debate about the role of Jewish veterans in organisations such as the British Legion. One group that was consistently opposed to the July visit was the Jewish Ex-Servicemen’s Legion (or JEXL), whose journal The Jewish ex-Serviceman printed numerous columns criticising the Legion’s leadership.

For JEXL, the entire episode validated its position that if they hoped to be part of the national conversation, Jewish veterans must band together and not be absorbed into non-denominational groupings. As it was (in the opinion of the chairman of the Nottingham Branch of JEXL), small Jewish veterans’ groups that often joined as branches of the British Legion were “isolated bodies with no status, no organisation... and no comparative strength”.

Another member, Captain H Morris from Sheffield, argued in the Journal that Jewish veterans needed to take the lead in opposing domestic fascism, but could only do this as part of a national Jewish organisation, as in his view, “resistance from a disunited Jewry can only be sporadic and weak”.

By contrast, reaction in much of the British press to the planned visit to Germany was initially supportive, although there was caution from the Jewish Chronicle and from the Manchester Guardian. However, support soon began to wane and caution was gradually replaced by hostility. Less than two months after the Legion’s visit to Germany, the Nuremburg Laws were passed, stripping Jews of German citizenship rights. Analysis of British national newspapers reveals that thereafter, the Legion increasingly came in for criticism of its ex-enemy policy. By the end of 1935, the Jewish Chronicle in particular became more openly critical as the persecution of German Jews accelerated. Withering scorn was poured on the remarks of the Chairman of the Legion that he was “satisfied” with German assurances following the Nuremburg Laws that the persecution of the Jews would be “modified in due course”.

From today’s vantage point, such views may seem astonishingly naïve. But it is important to understand the political context in which they arose. In the associational culture of the interwar years, the British Legion emerges as an archetype of the inclusivist, non-denominational and non-class-based model of democratic citizenship championed by figures like interwar Prime Minister Stanley Baldwin, as Britain transitioned from a limited, property-based franchise to a mass democracy after 1918.

Against such a background, groups like the British Legion attempted to create and defend a space free from party politics and sectarian strife. That attempt came at a considerable price: in pursuit of a programme of international inclusivity at all costs, the Legion can be seen to have disregarded the reality of rising antisemitism on the assumption that the political mood of the interwar period in Britain, with its high valuation of moderation and international peace, must be universal.

Such ideas were common in Britain, and shared by some influential Jewish figures. Major Brunel Cohen, the Honorary Treasurer of the Legion for most of the interwar period, defended the Legion’s visit to Germany (despite choosing not to join the delegation), stating that while he was highly critical of the “abominable anti-Jewish policy” of the Hitler government, the actions of the Legion were “purely in the interests of peace”. The President of the Board of Deputies, Neville Laski, also defended the Legion’s visit to Germany. Addressing a meeting of the Sydney Frankenburg Branch of the British Legion in Manchester after the visit, he maintained that he was glad the meeting had taken place “because however small the impact, it had done some good”.

The British Legion visit to Germany and its Nazi leadership is almost a century distant. But the wilful blindness of organisations confronted with antisemitism is a continuing phenomenon. Parallels with the present time may not be hard to find.

Fearghal Grace is completing a PhD in history at Emmanuel College, University of Cambridge. This essay is abridged from ‘Jewish ex-Servicemen and the 1935 Visit of the British Legion to Nazi Germany,’ winner of the 2021 Robert Silver Essay Prize for an outstanding original contribution to British Jewish political history. The Prize was established in memory of the political journalist Robert Silver (1955 – 2019).