He entered Parliament in 1947, immediately became a cabinet under-secretary and was then rarely out of a cabinet post until 1992. He served as prime minister seven times between 1972 and 1992, and held the foreign minister’s portfolio through six successive governments from 1983 to 1989.
An instinctive anti-Communist, the lodestars of his political firmament were the Vatican and the North Atlantic alliance with the United States. But Andreotti was above all a pragmatist, and when forced in 1976 to reach an accommodation with the Communist Party in order to maintain a minority government, he did not flinch. The prospect of relinquishing his hold on the levers of power was sufficiently alarming: “Power weighs too heavily only upon those who do not have it,” was one of his most oft-quoted aphorisms.
He was a devout Catholic who attended a daily mass at six in the morning throughout his life, and was on close terms with six successive pontiffs, earning him the sobriquet “Julius VI” and even “Julius the God” among his followers. As a young man he was once a chief altar-boy at Segni, near Rome, and went on to study Canon Law, completing a thesis on “The Personality of the Criminal in Church Law”.
For his austere and somewhat pious nature, Andreotti’s detractors dubbed him “the sacristan” and referred to him as “Jesuitical”. The Socialist leader Bettino Craxi once damned him as “Beelzebub”, but Andreotti was unruffled and in due course the insult rebounded when Craxi was forced to flee into exile in Tunisia to avoid prosecution for corruption.
Andreotti himself survived several setbacks. In 1990 his position was damaged by his admission, after years of denial, that a clandestine network of anti-Communist paramilitaries, known as operation Gladio, had been set up in 1958 to combat the threat of Communist subversion and invasion and had never been disbanded.
The suspicion, allayed at the time by denials from Andreotti of its very existence, was that members of Gladio had been involved in the “Strategy of Tension”, the violent campaign of destabilisation orchestrated by the far-Right in the 1970s and early 1980s. Andreotti’s escape from this tight corner did indeed owe much to his Jesuitical skills.
Rumours of shady dealings were almost an occupational hazard for so enduring a figure in Italian political life, but Andreotti was assumed to be “untouchable”, even by the Milan magistrates whose “Clean Hands” investigations into corruption brought down Craxi and so many others.
When asked once about his relations with the crooked financier Michele Sindona, who was poisoned in prison (possibly by his own hand), and the fraudulent head of Banco Ambrosiano, Roberto Calvi, who was found hanged beneath Blackfriars Bridge, Andreotti smiled enigmatically: “I must say that I met Mother Teresa much more often then I met Sindona or Calvi.”
But as the scope of the corruption investigations grew and prosecutors were able to draw increasingly on the evidence of pentiti, former Mafia members turned state witnesses, evidence came to light of Andreotti’s association with Salvatore “Toto” Riina, the supposed “boss of bosses” of Sicily’s Cosa Nostra.
In 1993 Andreotti’s senatorial immunity was lifted — a measure for which he, with characteristic insouciance, voted — so that he could be examined by magistrates and answer charges. According to the evidence of Tommaso Buscetta and Balduccio di Maggio, Andreotti had been seen meeting Riina in 1987 and greeting him with a kiss; he was the Mafia’s top political contact, it was said, the man the Cosa Nostra knew as “Zio (uncle) Giulio”.
Andreotti was unfazed. In July 1994 he was watching Italy play Nigeria in the World Cup when a friend telephoned to give him the news of the decision by Palermo magistrates to indict him. “Don’t you think it might be better,” he replied, “if we were to finish watching the game?”
Before his trial opened in September the following year, prosecutors said they would prove that Andreotti was not “a man of the government, but a boss of the Cosa Nostra”. Andreotti vigorously denied the charges, and pointed to a anti-Mafia crackdown that he had initiated in the early 1990s. Certainly a turning point in his relations with the Mafia seems to have come in 1980, when the mob angered Andreotti by murdering Piersanti Mattarella, the reformist president of the Sicilian regional government. On October 23 1999, Andreotti walked free from the courtroom in Palermo, cleared of being the Mafia’s protector in Rome. “Obviously I’m delighted,” he said after hearing the verdict.
He had another reason to celebrate as, just a month earlier, in September 1999, he had also been cleared of ordering the murder of an investigative journalist, Mino Pecorelli. Pecorelli, from the magazine Osservatorio Politico, was killed on March 20 1979, shot (in a Mafia trademark for those accused of talking too much) through the mouth.
It was alleged that Pecorelli, who was noted for his contacts, was on the point of publishing information which potentially could have ruined Andreotti’s career, and in 1993 Buscetta testified that Pecorelli had been murdered as a favour to the politician. As Andreotti’s not guilty verdict came through, the then opposition leader, Silvio Berlusconi, rejoiced: “Hallelujah! I have always thought it was ridiculous that a man as intelligent and brilliant as Giulio Andreotti could risk a life and a career like his with such nonsensical and absurd behaviour.”
The prosecution appealed, however, and in 2002, Andreotti was convicted and sentenced to 24 years in jail for Pecorelli’s murder. It was a ruling that electrified the country. Finally, it appeared, the high-flying, untouchable Andreotti had been brought low. But even his political adversaries backed him to make a comeback, and his allies in the Catholic Church were not shy of drawing comparisons with the life of Christ. “Without a doubt, at the end there will be a resurrection,” said Cardinal Fiorenzo Angelini.
So it proved. The following year Andreotti was cleared by Italy’s Supreme Court of involvement in Pecorelli’s killing. His final acquittal on all Mafia-related charges came in 2004, when he was 85. But the court did not positively declare him innocent. Instead the judgment noted that Andreotti had shown “real, solid and friendly openness towards mafiosi” before 1980, when he had “friendly and even direct ties” with the Mafia boss Stefano Bontade, but could not be prosecuted for such links due to the statute of limitations.
In 1980, the court said, Andreotti had met Bontade in a vain bid to save Mattarella’s life. When his pleas for clemency were ignored, Andreotti put himself and his family at risk to launch his anti-Mafia crackdown. If links persisted between Andreotti and the Cosa Nostra after 1980, the court suggested, there was insufficient evidence to convict.
The ruling brought to an end more than a decade of investigations and trials that had tarnished an entire political system. For the courtroom sagas were widely perceived as trials of the Christian Democrat-dominated machine that had run Italy since the Second World War. No one represented that machine more than Andreotti, a politician once described by an editor of Il Giornale as “a complete man of power... without hope of paradise or fear of hell”.
The son of a schoolteacher who died when he was a year old, Giulio Andreotti was born on January 14 1919 in Rome’s Via dei Prefetti, a stone’s throw from the Parliament building. He was brought up by his mother but was also deeply influenced by his aunt, a strict Roman Catholic. From her he learnt, so he recalled, “never to over-dramatise things, everything sorts itself out in time, keep a certain distance from things in life, not many things are really important”.
He was educated locally and, though he did not shine at school, took a part-time job in a tax office which enabled him to attend Rome University. He soon became a leading figure in the Catholic student movement, and became its national president after his friend Aldo Moro was forced to quit the post to do his military service.
Andreotti graduated in 1940 with a law degree and, excused combat duties after a physical examination, served for a spell as a medical orderly. From 1942 to 1945 he was president of the Italian Catholic University Federation and edited its weekly magazine, Azione Fucina.
In 1942 he first encountered the founding father of Christian Democracy, Alcide de Gasperi, who became Andreotti’s personal mentor. De Gasperi was working as a librarian in the Vatican (which had granted him asylum from Mussolini’s death squads), when young Giulio came to research an article on the history of the papal navy.
“Don’t you have anything better to do?” snapped de Gasperi. Andreotti nevertheless impressed the irascible Christian Democrat with his intelligence and he was given a job on the Catholic newspaper, Il Popolo, then published clandestinely. Familiarity with the ways of the Holy See was useful to the outlawed de Gasperi, and Andreotti soon became his trusted lieutenant.
It was said that Andreotti was employed on occasion to stand behind a curtain to minute secretly what passed between de Gasperi and political rivals he met. Exercising the utmost discretion in all political dealings proved to be the most valuable lesson passed on by de Gasperi to his young protégé.
In 1944, at the age of 25, Andreotti was elected to the newly formed Christian Democratic Party’s national council. Two years later he became a member of the constituent assembly which drafted Italy’s new constitution, and in 1947 he was elected to the Chamber of Deputies in the new Parliament.
In May that year de Gasperi, then prime minister, appointed Andreotti his Cabinet undersecretary. Andreotti proved a discreet servant to his political master, an astute judge of the mood of the House and an effective behind-the-scenes operator. It was Andreotti’s air of competence and his care to mollify potential opponents, rather than any great personal charisma, that took him to the top of his party and the government.
In 1954, the year of de Gasperi’s death, Andreotti won his first Cabinet post, as minister for the interior in the Fanfani administration. Though Andreotti’s ardent anti-Communism placed him firmly on the Right of his Party, at a time when a more progressive wing of the Christian Democrats was in the ascendant, his career gained an inexorable momentum. The next year he became minister of finance and in 1958 he headed the Treasury. From 1959 to 1960 and again from 1960 to 1966 he was minister of defence.
After a two-year stint as minister of industry and commerce, he left the Cabinet to lead the Christian Democrats in the House of Deputies. It was in this role that Andreotti conducted the campaign against the Bill, sponsored by the Socialists and the Liberals, to legalise divorce in Italy. At the time it was estimated that some five million Italian men and women were “marriage outlaws”, either unmarried but cohabiting or married but separated.
The Christian Democrats commanded only 265 of the 630-seat lower House, and desperate measures were called for; it was even reported that Andreotti was prepared to do a deal with his arch-enemy, the Communists (PCI), if it was willing to withdraw its support for the Bill.
In the end his efforts proved a rearguard action, and the Bill was finally passed in 1970. But the campaign did no harm to Andreotti’s reputation for enjoying the closest relations with the Vatican of any contemporary politician, and his record showed conspicuous loyalty to the Papacy.
As finance minister, for example, he had been censured in 1958 for turning a blind eye to “Vatican nepotism” — the practice of granting tax exemption to relatives of the Pope. And six years later Andreotti was forthright in his defence, in an article for the magazine Concretezza, which he founded and edited, of Pope Pius XII against charges of failing to do enough to protect Italian Jews from Nazi persecution.
In July 1970, after the collapse of Prime Minister Mariano Rumor’s centre-Left coalition, President Giuseppe Saragat invited Andreotti to try to form a government. He accepted the challenge with reservations and, after a fortnight of negotiations with potential coalition partners who ranged from his own Christian Democrats to the Socialists, renounced the task.
He returned to his role as parliamentary leader until February 1972, when he was called by the new President Giovanni Leone to try once again to form a governing coalition. His first term as prime minister lasted only nine days, though, before the new government was brought down by a vote of confidence. A general election was scheduled for May, though Andreotti continued as a caretaker prime minister.
Amid mounting public concern about the escalation of both Right-wing and Left-wing terrorist activity, Giangiacomo Feltrinelli, the Maoist millionaire who had in 1957 been the first to publish an edition of Boris Pasternak’s Dr Zhivago in the West, was found dead near Milan. He had apparently been killed by his own explosive charge while attempting to sabotage an electricity pylon.
Andreotti promised to maintain law and order and, though the election result left the composition of Parliament little changed, he was able to form a working coalition which did not include the Socialists. The new government was immediately beset by strikes, high unemployment and inflation; nor could its premier rely on the loyalty of his own party — some Left-wing Christian Democrats rebelled and joined the opposition to vote for higher pensions.
Andreotti, both by instinct and necessity, took a pragmatic approach to government. He controlled prices of essential food stuffs, and reached an accommodation with organised labour. Later in 1972 he even paid an official visit to the Soviet Union, the first by an Italian premier for more than a decade. He also took an active role in the October meeting of the European Community heads of government, calling for the establishment of a Regional Development Fund, a measure which was to prove extremely valuable to Italy’s impoverished south.
By June 1973, though, the strains of holding the coalition together in the face of a worsening economic climate proved too great and Andreotti offered his resignation. The last straw was the Republican Party’s withdrawal of support over the licencing of a private cable television station.
Andreotti then chaired the Chamber of Deputies Foreign Affairs Committee, before rejoining the Cabinet in March 1974 as defence minister once more. Later that year he was appointed minister for the budget and economic planning and busied himself with public works projects in southern Italy. Two years later, following the collapse of Aldo Moro’s administration and amid growing economic and political chaos, he left the post to become prime minister once again.
President Leone was compelled to call an early election in the hope of resolving at least the political crisis. With the lira plunging, a mounting budget deficit and inflation running at 20 per cent, the Christian Democrats were losing ground to the Communists, who had made spectacular gains in regional and municipal elections.
In the general election the Communists came second with 227 seats to the Christian Democrats’ 263, in what was to prove the high-water mark of the PCI’s influence. Andreotti was called upon to form a government in extraordinarily difficult circumstances: on the one hand, relations with the United States and Nato which Andreotti had cultivated so assiduously were threatened by the prospect of Communists in the Cabinet; on the other hand, the country might prove ungovernable if they were excluded.
Andreotti, typically, crafted a deal that eventually worked in his favour. This he did by coming to terms with the Communists and ruling with a minority Christian Democrat government. The bargain he reached with the veteran Communist leader Pietro Ingrao gave the PCI full consultation rights and a commanding position in Parliament, in return for the party’s abstention from key votes on the government’s programme.
The PCI, desperate to come in from the cold of more than three decades of exclusion from government, thought that it at last had its hands on the levers of power. But, in what came to be known as the “Historic Compromise”, the Communists gradually lost credibility in the eyes of the electorate and their own grassroots members, as its deputies were forced to sit on their hands in order to preserve their position while Andreotti pushed through a tough austerity programme.
It was a supremely Machiavellian manoeuvre on the part of Andreotti: he had succeeded in implicating his political opponents in an unpopular but necessary policy, which effectively split the Left and put the PCI under the most severe internal pressure. By the end of 1976 Andreotti was so confident of having tamed the PCI that he made a three-day visit to the United States to meet with President Gerald Ford and President-elect Jimmy Carter, seeking their financial aid and a generous loan from the IMF.
The “Historic Compromise” lasted for a further two years until the PCI — pressed by its own militants — stepped up its campaign for formal inclusion in government. The move caused alarm in Washington, and Andreotti stood firm, earning the explicit support of the Vatican’s paper Osservatore della Domenica. In January 1978 Andreotti resigned as prime minister, but with the president’s blessing continued as caretaker.
He immediately reopened talks with the Communists to resolve the political crisis which was taking place against a frightening escalation of both Fascist and ultra-Leftist terrorist activity. By February, in the wake of the kidnapping and murder of Aldo Moro, the PCI’s general secretary Enrico Berlinguer was persuaded to drop his demand for Cabinet posts, and the status quo ante was temporarily restored.
Andreotti continued to show considerable tactical adroitness in handling his fragile command over the Communist-dominated Parliament, and despite opposition from that quarter successfully argued that Italy should join the European Monetary System. Yet this triumph was short-lived, for in January 1979 the Communists once again withdrew their support for the government and Andreotti, who had by now exhausted all options, was forced to advise President Sandro Pertini that he could no longer govern. But the president had no choice either but to ask Andreotti to continue as prime minister, which he did for a further six months of “phoney” government.
Andreotti returned to sit in the House of Deputies until his appointment in 1983 as foreign minister in a government headed by Craxi. The next year Andreotti faced the first major setback of his career when, in swift succession, he found himself tainted first by corruption and then by association.
With little hard evidence against him, Andreotti was acquitted of the former charge by his parliamentary peers, who decided that he had not received a bribe or had an interest in the appointment of a corrupt chief of the fiscal police. Then, after Craxi had spoken up on his behalf, Andreotti also escaped a vote of censure for his rumoured links with both the bankrupt financier Michele Sindona and the head of the P2 masonic lodge, Licio Gelli. Noting the outcomes, a colleague remarked sardonically: “Nothing ever happens to Andreotti.”
He retained his position as foreign minister and in 1987 was briefly involved once again in an attempt to form a government. Two years later, after another of Italy’s endemic political crises, he finally succeeded in constructing a working coalition and became prime minister, aged 70, of his country’s 49th post-war government. In 1990, with Andreotti at the helm, Italy took over the presidency of the European Community for a six-month term.
Having been named a senator for life, he resigned at the end of the parliamentary term and was considered an obvious candidate to succeed Francesco Cossiga as President of the Republic. But the Mafia derailed such plans. First, following the assassinations in Sicily of politicians and judges (notably Giovanni Falcone) closely linked to Andreotti, it was decided that a less partisan figure was required to preside over the country. Then came the confessions of the pentiti and the trials that would dominate the next decade of Andreotti’s life.
In 2006, aged 87, he stood for the presidency of the Senate, but was narrowly beaten. Two years later he was the subject of the widely-acclaimed film, Il Divo, a mesmerising account of the inner world of an inscrutable man who had survived when so many of his colleagues and rivals had met their physical and political ends. Andreotti walked out of a screening of the film.
Giulio Andreotti married, in 1945, Livia Danese, with whom he had four children.
Giulio Andreotti, born January 14 1919, died May 6 2013
telegraph
Mafia 'struck secret deal with Italian politicians to end murder campaign'
Ten Mafia bosses and high-ranking Italian officials, both former and current, went on trial yesterday accused of striking secret deals to halt a string of mob murders in the 1990s.
Those charged included Toto Riina, a jailed Costa Nostra boss, Nicola Mancino, an ex-interior minister, and Marcello Dell’Utri,
Silvio Berlusconi’s close aides.
Held in a high-security “bunker” courthouse near Palermo, the trial will will hear from 178 witnesses, as it seeks to lift the lid on a murky and murderous period in
Italy’s history using new evidence and testimony from mafia turncoats among an expected 178 witnesses, including President Giorgio Napolitano.
Prosecutors allege that politicians sent police officials to negotiate with bosses who mounted a series of bomb attacks in mainland Italy as well as murdering two anti-Mafia magistrates in Palermo, Giovanni Falcone and Paolo Borsellino, in 1992.
In return for a halt to the killings, criminal bosses allegedly demanded a relaxation of the harsh prison conditions meted out to jailed mafiosi.
Mario Mori, a former official with the Carabinieri paramilitary police and an alleged go-between, is among the accused, as is Massimo Ciancimino, the son of the late mayor of Palermo, who allegedly acted as a intermediary for bosses.
Dell’Utri, who awaits a final Supreme Court verdict on a separate conviction for ties to the Sicilian mafia, has worked with Mr Berlusconi since the 1970s, helping him form his Forza Italia political movement in 1993.
A mafia turncoat, Gaspare Spatuzza, has claimed a senior boss told him Mr Berlusconi held talks with the mob about stopping the bombings before he entered politics. He claimed Dell’Utri, who has denied all the allegations, was Mr Berlusconi’s intermediary.
Mancino, who has served as head of the Italian senate as well as interior minister, is accused of lying to investigators, but said as the trial opened that he did not deserve to be tried alongside mobsters.
“I have always fought the mafia, I cannot stay in the same trial in which there are mafiosi,” he said.
The opening of the trial coincided with the 20th anniversary of the 1993 mafia attack on Florence, when a Fiat packed with explosives was parked near the Uffizi Gallery, killing five and destroying paintings at the Gallery.
The bombings ultimately ushered in a crackdown on Cosa Nostra, which had prospered for years thanks to protection from politicians who received bulk votes from godfathers. Today the Mafia is considered to be less powerful than the Calabrian 'Ndrangheta, which has supplanted the Sicilans in the South American drug trade.
Riina was captured and jailed in 1993, while the man many believe replaced him at the helm of Cosa Nostra, Bernardo Provenzano, was captured in a farmhouse in Sicily in 2006. Due to poor health, Provenzano will face separate proceedings for his role in the the alleged collusion between the Mafia and the state, while former government minister Calogero Mannino has opted for a separate, fast track trial.
Magistrates have meanwhile demanded that Mori — the alleged police negotiator -- be jailed for nine years in a separate probe for allegedly deliberately delaying the arrest of Provenzano, who escaped arrest for 43 years.
The trial was promptly adjourned to Friday following procedural request by prosecutors and defence lawyers.
Telegraph
Auschwitz 'does not reflect facts', claims Hungarian MP
A far-Right member of Hungary's parliament has claimed that the Auschwitz death camp, which now holds a memorial to those who died there, "may not reflect the real facts".
By Jeevan Vasagar in Berlin
1:45PM BST 28 May 2013
Tamas Gaudi-Nagy, a member of the ultra-nationalist Jobbik party, made the statement during a debate in parliament on a proposal to facilitate visits by teenagers and young adults to the former Nazi concentration camp in Poland.
Mr Gaudi-Nagy said the site "may not reflect the real facts of history," and that schools should not be "forced to take up such an expensive venture," according to the Hungarian news agency MTI. The statement has been condemned by Hungary's governing party Fidesz and its leading Jewish group.
There is increasing concern over the rise of anti-semitism in Hungary, where Jewish leaders have been attacked in the street and Jewish cemeteries desecrated.
Antal Rogan, leader of the ruling party, Fidesz, said in a statement following the debate last Thursday: "Nobody has the right to question the Holocaust, the suffering and death of millions of people."
The Federation of Hungarian Jewish Communities, Mazsihisz, called on "democratic deputies in parliament" to reject Mr Gaudi-Nagy's remarks and also called on the House speaker "to initiate legal proceedings to restore the reputation of parliament." The Jewish group said: "Though the deputy did not openly deny the Holocaust, he made a sly suggestion that the memorials put up where several million victims were executed do not reflect the truth. Gaudi-Nagy's remarks have desecrated the memory of over 400,000 Hungarians who were exterminated there."
The World Jewish Congress, which normally meets in Jerusalem, chose to meet in Budapest this year to highlight what its president Ronald Lauder describes as a "dramatic" rise in anti-Semitism in Hungary.
In a report last week, Amnesty International criticized Hungary's treatment of minorities. The lobby group said that the Roma, Hungary's largest minority," continued to be subjected to racist abuse and violent assaults by far-right groups".
The Auschwitz-Birkenau death camp was established during Germany's wartime occupation of Poland. According to Yad Vashem, Israel's official memorial to the Holocaust, 1.1m Jews, 70,000 Poles, and 25,000 Roma and Sinti were murdered there, as well as thousands of prisoners of war from the Soviet Union and other countries.
Telegraph
Visitors flout ban on wearing Nazi uniforms to WWII event
Visitors to a Second World War-themed event celebrating the 70th anniversary of the Dambuster have turned out in Nazi uniforms despite a ban on the costumes.
Organisers of the 1940s weekend in Haworth, West Yorkshire, faced complaints last year from a party of German tourists about the flaunting of regalia linked to the Holocaust.
This year, an attempt to prevent a repeat of the controversy, signs warning "No Nazi or SS Insignia or uniforms on these premises" were displayed on shops pubs and camp sites.
Businesses all over the town were given signs saying Nazi or SS uniforms "not welcome," in a bid to avoid "unnecessary offence".
But again the event - which attracts 25,000 visitors a year and raises thousands of pounds for charity - saw visitors dressing up in Nazi uniform.
"This is a very controversial issue,” she said. “Lots of people who come to the weekend are re-enactors recreating military, civilian, and other features of the era.
"Then there are people who come as spectators who are mainly local people but some from further afield.
"Every year there are a few people who come in SS uniforms, which is nothing to do with the re-enactments.
"It is just about getting dressed up as SS people. Some people find this quite upsetting in what is meant to be a celebration of the Home Front spirit.”
"Apart from anything (else), there would not have been any SS in England at the time.”
Those who come dressed as SS had been getting “very uptight” about not being welcome, she added.
"They seem to be getting more determined to get dressed up in their SS uniforms and this is an open and public event so it is just not appropriate or practical to vet the thousands of people coming into the village,” she said.
"It is okay to come dressed as a German soldier. But everyone knows the SS was different. They were the people running the concentration camps.
"It's a problem because this is a public event which is supposed to be inclusive."
All proceeds raised from the weekend will be donated to the armed forces charity, the Soldiers, Sailors and Airmen's Families Association.
Last year the event raised £25,000 for Help for Heroes.
Last week marked the 70th anniversary of the Dambuster raid over Germany.
The raid, carried out by 133 airmen in 19 Lancaster bombers, was an attempt to cripple a major part of the Nazi war economy by attacking three dams in Germany’s industrial heartland.
Telegraph
Life in a neo-Nazi village
As far-Right crime rises in Germany, the Telegraph visits the small village of Jamel where most of the residents subscribe to neo-Nazi ideology.
Figures published recently by the German government showed that far-Right crime is on the rise, with more than 17,000 crimes last year - of which 842 were violent acts.
Jamel is the tip of the iceberg; an indication of the extent to which the far-Right is active, especially in areas of eastern
Germany where jobs are scarce.
“We’re threatened from both sides, on one side by immigration, on the other by low birth rate,” said Stefan Koester, a regional MP for the far-Right National Democratic Party of Germany (NPD). In 2011, his party won 6 per cent of the vote in state elections in Mecklenburg-Vorpommern – the state that includes Jamel – and it now has five MPs in the regional parliament.
Two years ago, Sven Krueger, an elected representative of the NPD in Jamel, was sentenced to four years in prison for illegal possession of a machine gun and an automatic pistol.
Krueger, a demolition contractor whose firm has the slogan ‘we are the boys for rough stuff’, is the driving force behind the neo-Nazi domination of Jamel. A few years ago, he began encouraging fellow supporters of the far-Right to settle alongside him. Now, more than half the families in the small village are open NPD supporters.
“It’s very tense,” she said. “My husband and I are the outlaws here. We are insulted, we are threatened, we are sabotaged in various ways. People drive their cars in front of ours and force us to brake. There is damage to property, our garden shed has been broken into. Our postbox has been labelled with Nazi stickers – it has been stolen.
The Lohmeyers refused to be driven out, insisting they have found their dream home in the countryside.
Mrs Lohmeyer said: “Our house is everything we wished for. No-one will take it from us, neo-Nazis or anyone else.
Telegraph
Little welcome for strangers in Germany's neo-Nazi village
Rottweilers bark incessantly, a woman shrieks an obscenity, and heavyset men warn outsiders to "Get back to the West!". Jeevan Vasagar and Alastair Good explore Jamel - the village that, for some, is the tip of the iceberg.
Next to a mural showing an idealised Aryan family, Gothic script declares that the village in eastern Germany is "free, social, national." The signpost next to it once pointed the way to Hitler's birthplace, 530 miles away in Austria, until a court order forced villagers to take it down.
The echoes of the Third Reich are quite deliberate. In Jamel, a tiny collection of red brick farmhouses fringed by forest, dozens of villagers describe themselves as Nazis and a majority turns out to vote for the far Right.
This is a place with little welcome for strangers. Rottweilers bark incessantly. A shaven-headed man shouts his own warning while a woman shrieks an obscenity from her window.
Jamel is for some the tip of the iceberg; an indication of how the far Right in Germany is open and active, especially in areas of former East Germany where jobs are scarce.
This month in Munich, the opening stages of a shocking trial have given further cause for introspection in a country which is being forced to confront the violent racism which pervades parts of its society.
The cell is being held responsible for the murder of eight men of Turkish origin, who were shot in the head at point-blank range.
German Chancellor Angela Merkel has apologised to the victims' families, describing the killings as "a disgrace for our country".
But the case has raised questions about official complacency. German security services and police failed to pursue tip-offs about the NSU, instead suspecting the immigrant victims of having links with organised crime.
Figures published recently by the German government showed that crime attributed to the far Right is now on the rise, with more than 17,000 crimes last year – of which 842 were violent acts.
Authorities estimate that there are more than 22,000 Right-wing extremists in the country. Nearly half of these, around 9,800, are regarded by Germany's security services as violent.
The disturbing figures have prompted politicians to promise a crackdown on the far Right. The interior minister, Hans-Peter Friedrich, pledged to increase police pressure on extremist groups "so that all people, regardless of their origin, can feel safe in Germany".
In Jamel, Stefan Koester, a regional MP for the far Right German National Democratic Party (NPD), boasts that his party won six per cent of the vote in state elections in Mecklenburg-Vorpommern – the state that includes the small village – and now has five MPs in the regional parliament.
"We're threatened from both sides, on one side by immigration, on the other by low birth rate," he says.
"The other parties want to attract capital, human capital, from other countries, the intelligence from other countries, and we say that we can't do that. Our families must have more children."
The NPD emphasises its communal activities – it hosts free drop-in sessions offering advice to citizens, and organises children's festivals. Its campaign posters show families playing on the beach with the slogan: "Stop the death of our people. The country needs German children."
Officially, the NPD says that it rejects violence "for political ends", but the threat seems to lurk in the background.
Two years ago, Sven Krueger, an elected representative of the NPD in Jamel, was sentenced to four years in prison for illegal possession of a machine gun and an automatic pistol.
Krueger, a demolition contractor whose firm has the slogan "We are the boys for rough stuff", was the driving force behind the neo-Nazi domination of Jamel and his family still live in the village.
A few years ago, he began buying up properties and encouraging fellow supporters of the far Right to settle alongside him. Now, more than half the families in the small village are open neo-Nazi supporters.
Birgit Lohmeyer, an author, moved from Hamburg to Jamel with her husband 10 years ago. When the Lohmeyers bought their house, they were told that a "notorious neo-Nazi" lived here. They thought they could cope with that. But since then, they have become the minority.
"It's very tense," she said. "My husband and I are the outlaws here. We are insulted, we are threatened, we are sabotaged in various ways. People drive their cars in front of ours and force us to brake. There is damage to property, our garden shed has been broken into. Our postbox has been labelled with Nazi stickers – it has been stolen.
"There was a sticker saying, 'No place for neo-Nazis', and it was altered to read, 'No place without neo-Nazis'."
The Lohmeyers refused to be driven out, insisting they have found their dream home in the countryside. Mrs Lohmeyer said: "Our house is everything we wished for. No one will take it from us, neo-Nazis or anyone else."
Some in the village insist there is no threat. One Jamel resident who agreed to give a brief interview, a shaven-headed man whose back was covered in the Nordic-style tattoos favoured by the far Right, said: "Everyone is happy. Everybody's friendly here, does everything together."
Asked about the Nazi-style mural, he claimed ignorance, insisting: "I don't know. It's nothing to do with me. I don't vote for the NPD."
Five miles up the road from Jamel, the constituency office of the NPD shares a building with the business address of Krueger's firm, Krueger Demolition. A poster outside illustrates the vision of communal life offered by the NPD; there are white, Aryan-looking children taking part in a sack race, alongside images of a torchlit parade, and shaven-headed youths beating military-style drums.
The building appears empty, but is evidently under some surveillance; within minutes of outsiders arriving, a car pulls up with two heavyset men inside. One of them rolls down his window to shout: "Get back to the West!" The car makes another sweep past minutes later.
Except for cities like Berlin, Dresden and Leipzig, eastern Germany has not shared in the economic success of the west since unification, creating fertile ground for extremists.
A government report last year stated that unemployment in the eastern states stood at 10.3 per cent, compared with 6 per cent in the rest of Germany. The east's economic output per capita was less than three-quarters that of the west.
The National Socialist Underground, the tight-knit group to which Ms Zschaepe allegedly belonged, was based in Zwickau, in the eastern state of Thuringia.
Simone Oldenburg, a left-wing politician who helps run a youth club near Jamel, said: "For 10 years the criminal acts of the NSU were not discovered. The state was asleep. It was dismissive – it had at first suspected the victims, instead of looking for the real causes.
"That's how it was in Germany. One had become blind to these crimes, and through this laxity, opened further the ground for Right-wing thinking and extremist crimes."
In places like Jamel, the far-Right offers a message which combines an emphasis on communal activities with a defensive attitude to the outside world.
Mr Koester, the regional MP for the NPD, said: "Many people in Mecklenburg-Vorpommern want a different kind of politics. A politics which is social, family-friendly. Other parties don't pursue these policies. The NPD offers an alternative."
Across the east, the population is forecast to decline. In Germany as a whole, migration has halted this demographic decline. But migrants – particularly highly educated young people from southern Europe – have been drawn to the affluent south and west of Germany rather than the east.
Mr Koester said his region was heading for a "population catastrophe", adding: "In 1990, Mecklenburg-Vorpommern had two million people. If the forecasts are correct, by 2050, we will have one million people."
When asked about Krueger, the NPD politician is guarded. "I know him, of course," he admits. "He is the landlord of my constituency office. He committed a crime, and must face the consequences of this."
Asked about Jamel, Mr Koester described it as "quite a normal little village". He added: "Many of the occupants have their own views, and don't want to pretend about what views they have."
In Jamel, the signpost that once pointed to Hitler's birthplace has now gone. But nearby is a painting of a signpost which is equally designed to provoke controversy: it points the way to the cities of Breslau, once in Germany but ceded to Poland, and of Koenigsberg, now part of Russia.
"These places belonged to the German Reich," said Uwe Wandel, mayor of the Gaegelow district which includes Jamel, standing by the painting.
In a democratic society, there is little than can be done to stop members of the far Right buying private houses, the mayor says, even if it leads to the creation of a neo-Nazi enclave. He is opposed to banning far Right parties.
"We have to engage with people. And if they commit crimes, they should be prosecuted," Mr Wandel said.
"As Germans, we are aware of our past. In other lands, England and Sweden, there is also Right-wing extremism. Yes, we have a special responsibility, but in the end we can't solve the problem any differently from any other country."
The mayor says that he "wishes dearly" that the neo-Nazis would go away. "But it won't. There will always be people who think this way. There will always be National Socialists."