The systematic murder of disabled patients during the Third Reich … and Donald Trump

During recent months, I have (once again) began to study the horrors of Nazi medicine. The results of this work will soon be published as a (Springer) book entitled ‘HITLER’S FEMALE PHYSICIANS – WOMEN DOCTORS  DURING THE THIRD REICH AND THEIR CRIMES AGAINST HUMANITY’. When dealing with this subject, it is impossible to avoid going into the systematic murder of disabled people by the Nazis during the Third Reich. For those who don’t know about this subject, here is a very short summary.

The Nazi ‘euthanasia program’ was initiated by Hitler in 1939 to coincide with the start of WWII. ‘Aktion T4’, the first wave of the killing, focussed on disabled children who were considered unworthy of life. Even though the Nazis tried to keep it secret, protests soon emerged and the program was thus officially stopped in 1941. However, the killing continued during a second, decentralised wave, also often referred to as ‘Aktion Brandt’. The third wave, code-named ‘Aktion 14f13’, started in 1941 and focussed on prisoners of the concentration camps. In total between 200 000 and 300 000 people were murdered.

In this context, news about Donald Trump might, I fear, be relevant. Fred C. Trump III, the nephew of Donald, is the father of a disabled son and wrote the following:

In our journey with William, Lisa [Fred’s wife] and I had become close to some truly inspiring parents and dedicated advocates who were doing amazing work to improve the day-to-day reality for families like ours. It’s a huge lift for caregivers, not to mention the constant need to mitigate expenses. There are so many different demands and challenges. But there are things that the government can do—some things that can only be done by the government, both federal and state. We wanted to bring knowledgeable people to the White House, to see if we could make a difference.

Lisa reached out to my cousin Ivanka, who was working in the White House as an advisor to the President. Ivanka got right back to her and said she’d be happy to help. She provided a contact for Ben Carson, the retired neurosurgeon who was secretary of housing and urban development. We brought several talented advocates with us for a meeting with Carson and members of his senior staff in April 2017. “Look,” I said as we got started, “I’m the least important person in the room.” I wanted the focus to be on the others, who knew a lot more than I did. They immediately started floating ideas, which was exactly why we were there. Our collective voice was being heard. It was a start.

In January 2020, just before COVID hit, Lisa, myself, and a team of advocates met with Chris Neeley, who headed the President’s Committee for People with Intellectual Disabilities, a much-needed federal advisory committee that promotes policies and initiatives that support independent and lifelong inclusion. We discussed the need for all medical schools to include courses that focus on people with intellectual and developmental disabilities. We emphasized how crucial it was for hospitals and other acute-care facilities to help patients transition from pediatric to adult services. We emphasized the importance of collecting sufficient data to explain medically complex disorders. This was not about more government spending. It was about smarter investing and greater efficiency…

The meeting I had assumed would be a quick handshake hello with Donald had turned into a 45-minute discussion in the Oval Office with all of us—Azar, Giroir, the advocates, and me. I never expected to be there so long. Donald seemed engaged, especially when several people in our group spoke about the heart-wrenching and expensive efforts they’d made to care for their profoundly disabled family members, who were constantly in and out of the hospital and living with complex arrays of challenges.

Donald was still Donald, of course. He bounced from subject to subject—disability to the stock market and back to disability. But promisingly, Donald seemed genuinely curious regarding the depth of medical needs across the U.S. and the individual challenges these families faced. He told the secretary and the assistant secretary to stay in touch with our group and to be supportive.

After I left the office, I was standing with the others near the side entrance to the West Wing when Donald’s assistant caught up with me. “Your uncle would like to see you,” she said.

Azar was still in the Oval Office when I walked back in. “Hey, pal,” Donald said. “How’s everything going?”

“Good,” I said. “I appreciate your meeting with us.”

“Sure, happy to do it.”

He sounded interested and even concerned. I thought he had been touched by what the doctor and advocates in the meeting had just shared about their journey with their patients and their own family members. But I was wrong.

“Those people . . . ” Donald said, trailing off. “The shape they’re in, all the expenses, maybe those kinds of people should just die.”

I truly did not know what to say. He was talking about expenses. We were talking about human lives. For Donald, I think it really was about the expenses, even though we were there to talk about efficiencies, smarter investments, and human dignity.

I turned and walked away.

At a later stage, Fred met Donald again.

I was up at Briarcliff Manor, home of the Trump National Golf Club in Westchester, N.Y. Donald happened to be there. He was talking with a group of people. I didn’t want to interrupt. I just said hi on my way through the clubhouse. I called him later that afternoon, and he answered.

I got him up to speed on what Eric had told me. I said I’d heard the fund for William was running low, and unfortunately, the expenses certainly were not easing up as our son got older. In fact, with inflation and other pressures, the needs were greater than they’d been. “We’re getting some blowback from Maryanne and Elizabeth and Ann Marie. We may need your help with this. Eric wanted me to give you a call.”

Donald took a second as if he was thinking about the whole situation.

“I don’t know,” he finally said, letting out a sigh. “He doesn’t recognize you. Maybe you should just let him die and move down to Florida.” …

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As I have stressed before, there are many good reasons why Donald Trump should never again come near the White House. As a doctor and a researcher of Nazi medicine, I feel strongly that this is one of them.