There is such a thing as positive discrimination. Once Friedel and I were traveling with a Munich tour agency to Marseille, to pick up a ship to Dakar. There was a blind war veteran among the group, who had lost his luggage. The tour leader, who had to look after thirty other travelers, knew that I spoke French and asked me to help the man. The luggage turned up again, but Friedel and I arrived in the dining room too late and found that the tables reserved for our group were already fully occupied. We saw two free places at a table at which a couple of our age was sitting. In the presence of the tour leader, I asked politely whether we might join them. The man ignored me and snapped at the tour leader: What was she thinking, putting people at his table that he couldn't talk to? Friedel and I decided – not so politely any more – not to take a seat at his table. The poor tour leader clearly didn't know how to deal with the situation. She wanted to make up for it and asked whether she should see if there were seats for us with French-speaking guests. I was about to lose my temper, when two older ladies, who had heard everything, took the initiative and invited us to join them. That defused the situation.

Of course the tour leader had meant well with her suggestion. She wanted to spare us further discrimination from the Germans. But as far as I was concerned her actions were counterproductive, because they involved evading and caving in to prejudice. It didn't change people's behavior in any way. I would have much preferred to tell that man what I thought. There are innumerable examples of how good intentions can lead to negative consequences. In the Federal Republic, for example, the possibility of encouraging the German-born children of African American GIs to go to the USA so as to spare them the pain of discrimination in Germany was seriously considered for a long time