It is all rather complicated. In this case we have a very small cog of the machine becoming a symbol many years after the fact.
There's merit in the argument that she, and many others like her, would not have had any real choice. Political repression in Germany from the mid thirties had been such that people that disagreed with the government had either left, were sent to concentration camps or were dead, so if you knew what was good for you you kept your head down and did as you were told. Sophia Scholl
is an exception, but it takes an exceptional character to do what she did, and I myself don't think I would be that brave.
On the other hand, German society did develop a casual indifference to those being rounded up and taken to the camps. Jorge Semprún
was a French resistance fighter imprisoned at Buchenwald. In his book The Long Voyage he talks about going to one of the houses in the village next to the camp after being liberated; in there there's only a lady, and he asks if she knew what was going on in the camp, the lady doesn't answer, and when pressed she only talked about her son dead in the army. The whole thing was too big for her to see herself as a part of it. And that, I think is the difficult thing, it probably feels good to have some kind of symbolic punishment, but doesn't change the fact any of us would have been the same, or would be the same if the situation were to be repeated.