Skip to content

Review of Industry and Ideology and From Cooperation to Complicity by Peter Hayes

September 5, 2014

Industry and Ideologyfcc cover2

I have previously written that blogging is liberating because it allows you to express yourself more personally and directly to your audience. For those of us in academia, this is often not our primary method of communicating, since our goal is to dispassionately present a sober analysis of verifiable facts whenever possible. We usually do not use first person and usually do not mix our scholarly analysis with personal stories. The truth of the matter is, however, that we are all human. We are subjective creatures observing and writing about other subjective creatures. We have personal connections to our research subjects. Thus, this mode of writing is sometimes helpful.

Some have used the human lack of objectivity to argue that all historical investigation is fundamentally flawed. I disagree. If we work at it, and continue to research, write, debate, and interrogate our perceptions, I believe we can get a better sense of what actually happened in the past. Then we create the possibility making an informed decision about our present. This is the essence of why the study of history matters.

We work at it. And sometimes we make mistakes.

I am reviewing Peter Hayes’ work here in an attempt to correct some of my mistakes. Hayes has written two books about businesses and Nazi Germany: Industry and Ideology is about IG Farben, the company that built Auschwitz. From Cooperation to Complicity is about Degussa, the company that melted down stolen gold and manufactured Zyklon B, the delousing agent used in the infamous Nazi gas chambers.

When I was first exposed to Hayes’ scholarship I had some mistaken perceptions about these two books. This led me to make a grave error. Today, my opinions and contentions about Hayes’ work are more nuanced. I hope that those who read this blog in order to find clarity about business and Nazi Germany will be better served by what is written here. Moreover, this essay is also a personal observation about being a researcher in this field, which hopefully helps provide a lesson about how my peers may navigate it in the future.

Let me make a major disclaimer here: The books I am reviewing by Peter Hayes are very important to my field. The more I study them, the more respect I have for the great amount of work that went into them. I am not the only one who has held a mistaken perception of Hayes’ scholarship; therefore, my attempt to understand how the work might be perceived falsely may appear quite critical at times. I must underline, however, that this essay is not an attempt to justify my error. I genuinely want others who are interested in the challenging topic of business and Nazi Germany to learn how I came to make such a mistake and avoid it themselves.

* * *

My entry into the field of business in Nazi Germany was coming across Edwin Black’s book, IBM and the Holocaust in 2002. At the time, I was quite disillusioned; I was an art school dropout working for rock bottom pay doing questionable things for a large financial institution with an unsavory reputation. Black’s dramatic indictment of a well-known corporation resonated strongly with me at the time. If you were going to make a point about the lack of accountability in big business, why not talk about their work with the Nazis? In 2006, I decided to go back to school to make a serious attempt at studying the topic.

I knew that some would consider what I was working on to be conspiracy theory, so I was a diligent student. I did well and my professors recommended graduate school. I got into one. I attempted to interrogate the books I was reading critically, but it was clear that I still had a lot to learn, considering what I did next: On the eve of completing my undergrad degree in 2009, I wrote to Edwin Black to thank him for inspiring me.

Edwin Black wrote back and offered me a volunteer position as an editor for his website. The word “volunteer” should have raised alarm bells for me, but I was starstruck at the time. It took me a few months, but it eventually dawned on me that his “news” website I was working on was basically a platform for reactionary views, particularly of the pro-Zionist, anti-Arab variety. Because I was raised Jewish, Black simply assumed I was in the “support Israel, right or wrong” camp. He was mistaken.

Black’s main interest was not calling for accountability in big business. After the crash of 2008, I felt strongly about exploring the historical roots of business corruption. Instead, Black was fixated on finding enemies of the Jews everywhere. This is not hard to do, and antisemitism is very real. However, Black’s opinions guided his research, which was a big problem. This meant he sometimes created conspiracies where they did not exist.

I admit I was seduced by Black at the time, especially when he criticized Peter Hayes and his mentor, Henry Turner, Jr. Both Turner and Hayes argued that moral outrage reduced the ability to objectively assess what had actually occurred with businesses and Nazi Germany. At the time, I was particularly hostile to this argument, especially since I saw very little accountability in the business world, presently or historically. Moral outrage is what fueled my passion to learn more about corporate malfeasance so I could help work towards a solution. How could I give that up?

Despite my misgivings, I worked with Edwin Black into the early months of 2010. In one of our phone conversations, Black pointed me to a paragraph from Industry and Ideology in the acknowledgments, page xxx. Here, Hayes noted several organizations that “funded or lent ancillary support” to his research and writing. He lists several organizations and then goes on to thank archivists for their help with several collections he used for this book, including IG Farben, the company Industry and Ideology is about. Black, who often lacks the ability to see shades of gray, said, “See! Here is where Hayes got funding from IG Farben for his research.”

I should have looked more closely at the passage in Hayes’ book. Here it is:

I am also grateful to several organizations that funded or lent ancillary support my research and writing: the Social Science Research Council, the Deutscher Akademischer Austauschdienst, the Giles Whiting Foundation, and the Department of History and the University Research Grants Committee at Northwestern. The archivists and staffs of the Sterling Memorial Library at Yale, the Bayer-Archiv in Leverkusen, the Firmenarchiv der Hoescht AG in Frankfurt, the Unternehmensarchiv der BASF in Ludwigshafen, the Bundesarchiv in Koblenz, the Historisches Archiv of the Gutehoffnungshütte Aktienverein in Oberhausen, the Historisches Archiv of the Metallgesellschaft AG and the IG Farbenindustrie AG in Abwicklung in Frankfurt, the Historisches Archiv of the Fried, Krupp GmbH in Essen, the Werener von Siemens Institut in Munich, and the Center for Research Libraries in Chicago were all extremely helpful, as were the personnel of the Interlibrary Loan Office of the University Library at Northwestern.

It is clear that one sentence here indicates where funding for the book was derived, while another tells us where Hayes did his research. This is a common practice in order to give credit to archivists, who are very important to historians, where it is due. Hayes, of course, also adds at the end of the paragraph: “None of these institutions or individuals sought or exercised any control over my findings or bears responsibility for them” (xxxi).

Did I attribute much importance to this other sentence at the time? No. Instead I started simply footnoting the page and stating that Hayes received “ancillary support” from IG Farben. There were several historians who were commissioned by companies in the late 1990s and early 2000s to assess their role and legal liability in the Holocaust, and Hayes fit neatly into that category. His relativistic position was certainly similar to those that were commissioned.

I eventually became frustrated with working for Edwin Black and stopped answering his emails later in 2010; however, I continued to use the “ancillary support” footnote in many of may papers, several of which are published here on this blog.

That includes here, here, and here.

It was not until earlier this year that I seriously began to question my own perceptions of Hayes’ work as I spent time putting together the literature review for my dissertation proposal. Two of my past mentors, Devin Pendas and Max Paul Friedman, had already warned me that dismissing the work of Hayes and others because I believed them tainted by corporate influence was not a smart strategy as a historian. Instead they implored me to spend more time actually reading what they said and re-examining their sources, if necessary.

This led me to an extremely embarrassing discovery. Hayes was not commissioned by IG Farben. As it stands, Farben has not even operated as a company since 1945. The cartel was essentially broken up at the end of World War II into four pieces: Bayer, Agfa, BASF, and Hoescht, now part of the pharmaceutical company, Aventis. What remained of Farben was preserved in a “liquidation” status to make Holocaust reparations payments. The firm is still subject to protests from time to time for not doing this transparently enough, but that is a story for another time.

In any case, I became a source that spread an untruth about Peter Hayes and for that I would like to direct a personal apology to him: I was wrong and I apologize.

What is worse is that people have listened to me and spread this misinformation. For reasons I will get to in a moment, Industry and Ideology received sizable portion of negative reviews. Particularly on Ironically, in a positive review, my own scholarship was referenced as a signpost for schools of thought about business and Nazi Germany.

Meanwhile, Hayes himself responded to a commenter on Amazon who also insinuated that he was commissioned by IG Farben to write Industry and Ideology. As you can see, he flatly denies it.

I was blinded by my own perceptions about corporate influence over scholarship. I am still skeptical about the power dynamic present between commissioned historians and big business, but now I spend more time investigating and less time jumping to conclusions. I daresay that is an essential part of growing as a student. I do not have a PhD yet. And even though I have taught, done a great deal of research, and been considered by some to be an expert in my field, I am also still a student.

I would like to think that the hallmark of a good scholar is someone who turns their mistakes into a lesson for themselves and others. Therefore, we need to go further here. Are there reasons why the conclusion that Peter Hayes was commissioned by IG Farben is plausible? His work deserves a closer investigation so others do not make the same mistake I did.

* * *

An introduction can tell you a lot about a text. First off, there are two versions of Industry and Ideology. It was first published in 1987, as a revised version of Hayes’ doctoral dissertation. The second edition came out in 2001. It is worth noting that, because this book was based on a dissertation, this should immediately take a lot of air out of the allegation that this was a commissioned history. Writing a dissertation takes years. For Hayes, this was a process that started way before 1987, and many years before the late 1990s when commissioned histories actually became a phenomenon.

For the purposes of this review, we are going to look at the more recent edition. Again, the introduction provides some useful information. Hayes notes in his updated version that he should have taken a sharper tone toward Farben (xii). This gives you some idea that he was responding to criticism that he was initially not critical enough. He also spends some time arguing that IG Farben’s involvement with Auschwitz is incidental. Hayes maintains that the company’s choice to locate near Auschwitz was a primarily due to local natural resources, and not primarily for access to forced labor. Nevertheless, he convincingly argues that IG Farben would have imported forced labor even if location was different (xv).

What surprised me reading his new introduction was that Hayes outlines the same problems in the scholarship that I have written about many times, mainly that the writers in the field tend to split between business historians who write sanitized history, and non-historians who indulge in sensationalism to sell books. This is not ideal for helping us understand what really happened. Frustratingly, Hayes provides few examples for this “sanitized history” school, and none are recent or in English. I found this particularly problematic since the commissioned history group I immediately thought of were Hayes’ peers: Harold James, Gerald Feldman, and Henry Turner, Jr. These were the commissioned historians working at the time the new version of Industry and Ideology came out in 2001. I find it troubling that Hayes does not mention these individuals.

In any case, Hayes does a decent job of laying down the historical framework that led IG Farben to the Nazis. He builds a case which is more widely adopted today, that big business was slow to jump on the Nazi bandwagon. I will not go into a lengthy analysis of the scholarly debate that led to this consensus here, but the short version is that businessmen were initially suspicious of the Nazis. There was a lot of anti-capitalist talk coming from the Nazis, often couched in antisemitism, which made corporate leaders worried about what the future would look like if the Nazis were in control of Germany. It was really only in the period directly before their seizure of power that the Nazis made sufficient assurances to corporate leaders that they were more interested in crushing socialists who controlled the unions, rather than reorganizing capitalism in Germany itself. Many businessmen appreciated this strategy and supported the Nazis after they began to destroy the unions.

This is not a view that resonated well with me initially. It is much easier to believe in the willingness for people to want to do nefarious things for nefarious reasons, but this is not a nuanced, or historically accurate view. However, there is a thin line between explaining and justifying, and if one does not read closely, it is easy to miss. For instance, Hayes explains that IG Farben’s interest in currying favor with the Nazis was essentially one of convenience.

Hayes effectively demonstrates that the company’s real interest in partnering with the Nazis came because of a confluence of events: IG Farben was seeking big subsidies for manufacturing synthetic fuel right at a time when the Nazis had big electoral landslides. The Nazis were arguing for nationalistic self sufficiency in a world reeling from economic depression, and it is not difficult to see how IG viewed synthetic fuel production as something that the Nazis would support. This helped spur IG Farben’s interest in the Nazis (66).

As more and more businessmen came into the Nazi fold, some realized the ominous implications of this new political alignment. Carl Bosch, a top IG Farben executive, visited Hitler in the Chancellery in May of 1933. According to Hayes, Bosch tried to discreetly outline the negative effects of Nazi racism on business and scientific development. Hitler allegedly snapped at him and asked him to leave. This permanently poisoned their relationship (92). Ironically, Bosch is maligned as a Nazi collaborator in much of the “conspiracy” literature on corporations and Nazi Germany, and some readers, myself included, were skeptical about this conflict. However, if Bosch was more a collaborator than critic, a lot of work needs to be done to counter the argument Hayes is making. Hayes marshals a great deal of source material to make this claim.

I remember questioning Hayes’ portrayal of Bosch. It is much easier to simply reject scholarship that does not fit one’s worldview; but this is not a reasonable position. This is a warning to future scholars: If you are skeptical about something, take a second look and do more research if necessary.

It is not long after the above story about Bosch that Hayes jumps into a section where he discusses how IG Farben managers identified themselves more closely with the Nazi regime after mid-1933. Probably the most egregious example of this is Max Ilgner. Hayes writes that Ilgner was a salesman and promoter of IG Farben who went abroad to the US to counter negative perceptions of the Nazis and companies operating in Germany. Ilgner went as far as to employ the famous American public relations expert Ivy Lee, to promote Hitler’s Germany and IG Farben (105). As a specialist in US business and Nazi connections, I would have liked to hear a lot more about that episode.

When you dig through the dense prose in Industry and Ideology, there are many incriminating details to be found, but also a number of contradictions; although the book is ostensibly about how IG Farben assisted the Nazis in war and genocide aims, Hayes states that only 3% of IG Farben’s annual sales went to the military until 1938 (136). However, a few pages before that Hayes writes that Farben became the exclusive purchasing agent for numerous raw materials that would be essential to the war effort: oil, benzol, sulfur, nickel, iodine, rubber, molybdenum, chromium ore, tungsten, and phosphates (133).

And here we start to strike at one of the central problems in Industry and Ideology. Hayes contradicts himself frequently. At first, I saw this as a result of academic prose; and indeed, Hayes is particularly poor at writing clearly and summarizing ideas. I get that this was his dissertation; the genre lends itself to in-group academic language and complex writing structures. Nevertheless, we are also talking about a company directly involved with the Holocaust. Given the deeply fraught and emotionally charged nature of the topic, clarity is of tantamount importance. I found clearness is so dramatically absent from Hayes’ work, that it began to become obvious why there were many misunderstandings about it.

As I was taking detailed notes on Industry and Ideology, I noticed the number of contradictory statements increasing from Chapter 5 onward.

For instance, Hayes argues against the “myth” that the Nazi crash rearmament plan, known as the Four Year Plan, was centrally focused on IG Farben’s huge productive capacities as an international cartel. (183-4). Hayes notes that IG Farben’s contribution to the plan was 2.7 billion Reichsmarks (RM) out of a total of 13.25 billion RM. However, Hayes points out earlier that autarky, or national self-sufficency, made IG Farben essential to rearmament due to its unique capabilities and scale.

Right after this section Hayes adds that IG Farben subsidiaries, Brabag, Scholven, Politz, and others account for 4.3 billion RM of the Nazi Four Year Plan making them about a third of total expenditures (183-4). Why then does Hayes make a point about the “myth” of IG Farben’s large contribution to rearmament only to contradict it? Providing a third of all rearmament production is a significantly compelling contribution, not a myth.

Hayes argues that IG Farben already had a large market share of industries the Nazis militarized. Thus, the real argument Hayes is making is that the Nazis militarized IG Farben, rather than the company doing this spontaneously on its own.

Attacking the “myth” starts to seem like a strawman argument. IG Farben contributed greatly to German rearmament, no matter which way Hayes would like to argue the point. In a more lucid passage a little bit later, Hayes notes that IG Farben descended into organizational chaos by the later 1930s. The corporation tried to portray civilian production as military, meanwhile orders came from the military and did not get cleared with the firm’s management hierarchy. Add military secrecy for orders and things get steadily more messy (185). Still, this does not mean it was a “myth” that IG Farben contributed to rearmament.

The lack of clarity gets a bit more pronounced in later chapters. On page 206, Hayes talks about the firm experiencing a funds liquidity crisis, an economic recovery, and an overarching point about atomization of the company (lots of units doing autonomous things) all in the same paragraph. He then contradicts an earlier point about consolidation of firm leadership within the Nazi hierarchy, all without explanation. Honestly, I was lost. Each one of those points needed a topic sentence and a paragraph.

I found myself continually asking as I read, why is everything hyper detailed, yet overarching points are not clear? There were often not clear introductions or conclusions at the end of chapters. Additionally, Hayes’ use of arcane jargon like “vouchsafed” when he could have easily used the word “given,” only made the text more convoluted (216). This type of writing really puts anyone but the experienced specialist at the mercy of Hayes. Either you decide he knows what he is talking about even though you do not understand, or that he has some other agenda. This makes it far too easy for people like Edwin Black to claim that Hayes is burying an apology for the company that built Auschwitz under a mountain of detail and impenetrable language.

Again, clarity is important. This is particularly true when you are writing about a deeply emotional topic. I was continually disappointed by how little effort Hayes seemed to make to to be clear about what he was saying from chapter to chapter.

I also found his attack on Joseph Borkin, who has written a far more critical analysis of the company in The Crime and Punishment of IG Farben (1978) to be a bit unreasonable. Borkin writes a great deal about IG Farben’s takevoer of Austrian and Czech companies after the Nazis annexed these nations. Hayes states that IG Farben took over only a small amount. Hayes says it was “more than 5% of the chemical industries” but does not elaborate (216-17). There is a lot one could mean by more than 5%. Plus, if you are going to attack another author in a very detailed text, why the sudden vagueness?

Moreover, Hayes writes in the above pages, “IG learned to clothe its objectives in appeals to military necessity or the Party’s goals and this ambiguous pattern has been easy to mistake or distort.” Then why is the prose so unclear? Why are conclusions and introductions often missing from chapters? Why is his own discussion filled with ambiguity?

Ironically, right after this comment, Hayes has a somewhat clearer statement. He writes, “These offenses against the victims and international law do not, however, add up to the conclusion that IG conspired to capture and exploit the chemical and related industries of Europe for German military purposes” (218). He continues, “The combine reacted opportunistically and defensively to the regime’s diplomatic and military triumphs, but IG did not foment them” (218). This is one of the few sections in the latter half of the book where I felt I clearly understood a larger point Hayes was trying to make.

Unfortunately, there are more contradictions coming. In Hayes’ following chapter on the Sudetenland, his argument becomes immersed again. Neither at the beginning or the end of this chapter does Hayes state clearly what is happening overall. Buried before the end of this section he states, “The evidence suggests that IG Farben acted in the Sudetenland to protect commercial interests menaced by the incorporation of new chemical works into the Reich and that IG responded to rather than directed German policy in the region” (241). Even when he is lucid, Hayes still fails to clearly articulate that IG Farben compromised on managerial appointments and lost money so that it could buy out competitors on the heels of Nazi conquest. At least, I believe that what the lengthy sixth chapter was about.

The final seventh and eight chapters are where we really get into the meat of IG Farben’s contribution to the Holocaust.

The question of whether IG Farben is malevolent or not is continually framed by the intent of the managers rather than the content of the company’s actions. Hayes writes, “IG Farben’s imperialism was the sort that followed the flag” (264-5). Hayes argues IG Farben’s acquisitions were defensive in order to shut down potential intruders in its sphere of influence in dyes, industrial gases, synthetic rubber, and fuel distribution. Hayes shows the company had to make major concessions in most cases.

Still, this is essentially a distraction from what actually occurred. IG Farben plundered in order to prevent a loss of market share. Again, it appeared that Hayes was riding the thin line between explaining and justifying the corporation’s actions. This is precisely the point where Hayes could have acknowledged this line much more explicitly. Unfortunately, there is no sudden clarity in these last two chapters. Just more very dense prose.

Again, it does not help that Hayes appears to contradict himself repeatedly. When moving on to IG Farben’s move to take over industries in the Balkans, Hayes calls this endeavor “a sideshow” (297). He then proceeds to write about it in detail for another sixteen pages. After this section, Hayes states that IG Farben’s interest in the Balkans increased in importance (299). What is he trying to say?

As Hayes approaches the critical era when IG Farben built Auschwitz and was directly involved in the Holocaust, there are more contradictory conclusions. Hayes writes that in the period from 1939-1945, the Nazi regime had dominance over the economy to the point that industry as a unit didn’t exist; however, economic policy was so diffuse that the regime was nearly matched that with industrial interests (319).

Does IG Farben have agency as a large entity within Germany or not? Presumably, one of the purposes of the book is to assist people in determining how much responsibility for the Holocaust the company bore. This kind of ambiguity is not helpful.

You have to dig for Hayes’ criticisms of IG Farben. It is there, and this is why I am writing this review; but it bothers me that such an important piece of scholarship is so confusing. Obviously this is a critical body of research, but why is it so difficult to figure out what Hayes is trying to conclude about IG Farben’s actions?

This is not to say that clarity is entirely absent. Entering the period from 1943 onward Hayes states that this was the environment when “the concern’s leaders made decisions that blackened its name for all time” (323). I appreciated his candor here.

It is worth noting in this last section that Hayes cites Borkin for scholarship on IG Farben’s holdings in America. This is after criticizing his work pointedly. I found that a bit off-putting, although I suppose that is a bit of what I am doing here in this essay. Hayes utilizes Borkin’s research to talk about IG Farben’s relationship with Standard Oil, the attempt to sell off its American holdings, principally General Analine and Film, and IG Farben’s use of Swiss holding companies to protect assets (335-41). It is likely John Foster Dulles was part of these relationships, but Hayes does not mention him at all, which I personally found disappointing.

Then Hayes really starts digging into Auschwitz. I forgive readers that skip a lot of dense and difficult material to get to this part of the book. Auschwitz is really the reason any layperson knows about IG Farben. Hayes does not discuss this relationship in detail until about twenty pages into his eighth and final chapter. Here I found more contradictions that confused me, particularly in the description Hayes provides about the treatment of foreign workers at Auschwitz. First the company tried to be less harsh, because workers that were treated less so were more productive. When the Nazis started to lose the war and food, building supplies, and other gear were in short supply, the concern resorted “increasingly to severe discipline and punishment” (346). Then the Nazis became “more virtuous” and provoked the ire of the SS. Yes, you read that correctly. Hayes describes the Nazis as instituting a more humane worker treatment policy than IG Farben itself. This makes little sense and I wondered if an explanation was coming later. He simply states, “To Farben’s plant leaders, Nazi policy seemed consistently backward, harsh when gentleness was in order, placating when only severity remained” (346).

Hayes repeats his argument that the location and growth of Auschwitz was tragically incidental. However, he does get a bit more explicit when judging the corporation’s deeds, which is welcome. Hayes states: “these observations do not reduce Farben to a merely passive victim of Auschwitz’s tragic history. The combine’s decision to occupy the site, however unintended and unforeseeable the consequences, contributed mightily to the camp’s expansion and its eventual evolution into a manufacturer of death” (351).

There is a point worth noting on the following page. SS Chief Heinrich Himmler assigned Lieutenant General Karl Wolff to negotiate with IG Farben over shipments of prisoners at Auschwitz who would provide labor for manufacturing the synthetic rubber, also known as buna, at Auschwitz. Just four years later, Wolff surrendered to Allen Dulles as part of a deal to provide intelligence against the Soviet Union. Both Dulles brothers are connected to Auschwitz, yet there is no mention of them at all. Not even to dispel conspiracy theories about them.

For all Hayes’ effort to dispel myths, he missed the corporate collaboration with Nazis on the American side completely. Again, I found this personally disappointing.

Hayes does take time to describe the internal mechanisms that led to the horrors of Auschwitz, which is really the core of what makes this book important. Hayes argues that local managers were too committed economically and politically to change course. This led to a “steady barbarization” at IG-Auschwitz (356). The needs for buna became more desperate as the Nazis continued to lose ground to the Allies. Brutal madness ruled its setting. Monowitz, the Farben subcamp, started the “grisly human conveyor belt” as the SS Captain Heinrich Schwarz would pick prisoners to either stay and work or return to Auschwitz (358-59). These workers were literally worked to death with subpar food, lengthy workdays, and murder if they dropped. Then they were replaced by more. Workers survived four to six weeks.

Hayes argues that so long as more workers were supplied, managers could turn their backs on what was happening. He states that foremen had a dulled sense of sympathy in bad conditions and could simply blame the SS for what was happening (360). Here Hayes directly addresses the mass murder in the gas chamber at Auschwitz.

Hayes argues that IG executives had plausible deniability about what was happening with the gassings for three reasons: Frist, the SS did not consult IG Farben or Degesh. the supplier of Zyklon B, on building the gas chambers. Second, Gerhard Peters, the general manager at Degesh, learned what Zyklon was being used for and took an oath of secrecy. And third, IG Farben executives did not tour Birkenau, an Auschwitz sister camp where Jews were held. or see the gas chambers.

But eventually the Nazis couldn’t hide the stench of burning bodies at Monowitz. Hayes notes that it was spoken of openly. Some IG supervisors “not only spoke openly of the gassings, but wielded them as an incentive to work harder” (364).

This is where I ponder Hayes’ comments about “suspending our moral outrage.” By 1943, word spread from local managers to the top ranks of IG Farben that Auschwitz was a killing center. Hayes states that there is no direct evidence Farben’s chief executive Hermann Schmitz knew, but information about the gassing was circulating so widely, it is very difficult to deny the he knew what was happening (365). Hayes’ relativistic tone that pervades the book really starts to rub raw against the complicity IG Farben had with Nazis. Hayes is asking quite a bit for us to try and “understand” the motives of the company.

In the section detailing the aftermath of the war, Hayes notes that Farben execs were aware that admission of knowledge of the mass killings at Auschwitz was an admission of guilt in 1947-8 postwar trials (367). Thus, we cannot trust their testimony to any great degree. Schmitz probably knew he would be prosecuted by the Allies for all sorts of things: gassing, supply of drugs for medical experiments on Jews, and gas experiments. And if the US did not get him, the Russians were even scarier and more vengeful (370).

Hayes states that to the IG Farben’s loyalists, this was victor’s justice. To the victims of Nazism and critics of big business, the punishments were mockingly light proof that “capital is thicker than blood or water” (378-9). I did appreciate his characterization there.

In the conclusion to this lengthy and detailed text, Hayes contends that IG Farben was both indispensable and inconsequential. The former made them the latter. The Nazis treated them as they treated everything else, a means to an end. Hayes writes, “They became not so much guilty of the Nazi horrors, since they lacked Hitler’s intent, as co-responsible for them” (379). Moreover, IG Farben was complicit, according to Hayes, because the firm’s managers became prisoners of the process they prized most: competition.

Ambition, achievement, and the avoidance of punishment were the guiding elements in the thinking of IG Farben executives. According to Hayes, “Their sense of professional duty encouraged them to regard every issue principally in terms of their special competences and responsibilities, in this case to their fields and stockholders” (382). Hayes argues that this is why professionalization has triumphed in the modern world: it excuses opportunism while rewarding adherence to standards. It has contributed significantly to “the nature of modern sin, the withdrawal of moral concerns from public role in our lives” (382).

Hayes concludes: “To depict the actions of Farben’s managers as products of these processes is not to relieve them of responsibility. It is, instead, to connect their world with ours. Any society or part of one that ceases to grapple with the old preoccupation of history and philosophy, the problem of power and its proper use, and succumbs to an amoral fatalistic historicism, as did the leaders of the firm here described, will surely end as they did – momentarily prosperous and ultimately discredited” (383).

* * *

After all of this, I have questions for Hayes: How far should we go trying to “understand” the perpetrators of crimes? How important is the intent of IG Farben managers?

Regardless of intent, the actions of IG Farben contributed to genocide. That much is abundantly clear in Industry and Ideology.

What is the purpose of knowing the intent of Nazi collaborators? Is knowing that IG Farben managers were not enthusiastic Nazis a consolation to the victims? Does this information provide consolation to their business partners?

Is a purpose for this information even needed? Should we consider this book a product of “knowledge for knowledge’s sake”? If that is the case, was it worth opening wounds to achieve this?

Hayes’ main point appears to be present in the conclusion presented above. Professionalization has led to what Hannah Arendt calls “the banality of evil.” That is, people in offices separated from the destructive results of their actions can easily avoid facing their moral consequences.

Let us return to Hayes’ introduction to understand what he is really trying to do in this book:

“My work differs from its predecessors in tone as well as the strength and breadth of its underpinnings. Every historian must both enter into the subject at hand and stand back from it, attempting, in a sense, the impossible task of being in two places at one time.” (xxv)

Yes, objectivity in history is important, even if it is difficult to achieve. Hayes seems to be less than objective when assessing his own work. Stating that your scholarship is stronger than its predecessors is really up to the critics.

He continues:

“For this book, that attempt has entailed efforts both to reimagine the situation and reasoning of Farben’s leaders from 1925 to 1945 and to analyze at some remove what their deeds really signified.”

Is everyone still with Hayes so far? This thesis statement is awkward, but it is clear enough that Hayes is trying to dispassionately study the motivations of IG Farben’s managers.

“In so doing, I have been guided, as on many specific points, by an observation of Tim Mason, namely, that “if historians do have a public responsibility, if hating part of their method and warning part of their task, it is necessary that they should hate precisely.” At the same time, I have also borne in mind Franklin Ford’s admonition that “standing aghast is an unrewarding posture for anyone trying to pay close attention to the thread of history.”

Hayes’ reference to Mason and Ford is his way of attempting to illustrate the impossible task of objectivity in history writing.

And finally, here is the crux of Hayes’ thesis:

“The studied neutrality of my account reflects my desire not to reindict or to exonerate the leaders of IG Farben, but to highlight the mainsprings of their actions. Those mainsprings are with us still. The amoral pragmatism and professionalism that propelled Farben’s executives dwell within all large-scale organizations, whether they be corporate or political, whether they seek to maximize power or profits, whether they claim to serve the individual, a class, or a race. These drives make Farben an instructive case study in the plasticity of private interests and the consequences of permitting any single-minded doctrine to grasp the levers of a state. Lest that point be lost and readers distance themselves too far and easily from Farben’s behavior, I have emphasized here the specious rationality of the concern’s deeds and largely let the self-evident wickedness of some of them speak for itself”(xxvi).

I have two observations about this critical passage: First, Hayes misses an important opportunity for clarity. Why is he using words like “mainspring” when “motivation” works just as well? Why is he using a word like “plasticity” when “amoral” is a much clearer way of saying the same thing?

Second, Hayes is claiming neutrality and letting the “wickedness” of some managers speak for itself. This is contradictory if we already know that neutrality is impossible. Howard Zinn once wrote, “There is no neutrality on a moving train.” Standing in a neutral zone can easily be seen as moral cowardice. I presume this is absolutely not the impression Hayes wants to give.

The goal of the historian is not to just to share information and let it speak for itself, but to provide analysis. Information is plentiful. Analysis is not. People look to historians to lend their opinions on important past events like war and genocide. Hayes’ work is extraordinarily valuable because he has provided a great deal of information to digest.

My main question to Hayes is: Why not take a stand on the side of justice, particularly if the depth and breadth of your work is strong enough to stand on its own? Regardless of what you want, others will decide if your bias harms your analysis anyway.

* * *

This detailed critique is not meant to excuse my mistake of insinuating that Hayes was hired by IG Farben. What I am attempting to demonstrate is how easily the intent of an author can be mistaken.

When you are not clear and go to great lengths to preserve an impossible neutrality in the face of great crimes, this can very easily cause confusion.

Hayes’ fantastic use of sources is both a blessing and curse. Hayes’ work is a massive wealth of documents from IG Farben, but the managers will only give us their side of the story. There are no other sources to provide perspective to the crimes described here. In a 2002 review of Industry and Ideology in the The Canadian Journal of Sociology, Jay Winestein highlighted this point:

Much of the early portion of the book is dedicated to revealing the relative political impotence of IG (after all, the Depression and inflation hit it very hard). But at some point, the fact that the company did prosper so significantly under the Nazi regime stretches one’s credulity concerning its essentially passive role.

After all, when a capitalist enterprise sees the opportunity for free labor, it is hard to believe that it was not in some way responsible for creating – or at least sustaining – the policies that created such a fortuitous situation. Yet, and with all due qualification, this is essentially the kind of case that Hayes makes. One can imagine that another analyst, given the same material, might successfully “prove” that the Nazi’s were a bit more inclined to follow the lead of IG, and that IG played a more important policymaking role than the book would lead us to believe. Thus, without in any way wishing to demean the important work that Peter Hayes has done, I do find it advisable to close with a sociological caveat emptor In part because of the huge scope of the undertaking, there is after all something of an ideological bent in Industry and Ideology.
The Canadian Journal of Sociology / Cahiers canadiens de sociologie, Vol. 27, No. 2 (Spring, 2002), pp. 275-277.

I believe it is fair to say that claiming neutrality will cause people to question your intentions.

This is exactly why we need to take into account his other major work in the field, From Cooperation to Complicty about Degussa. If Hayes is using neutrality as a means to avoid condemning business perpetrators, then this should be apparent in other works. Thankfully, this is not the case, but this book also deserves a close read.

* * *

Indeed, if there is a theme in this essay, it is about how individual scholarship evolves. Likewise, it is clear that Peter Hayes’ scholarship evolved considerably in From Cooperation to Complicity. I distinctly remember my adviser for my Master’s degree at Boston College, Devin Pendas, implore me to take a look at the Degussa book when I complained about the relativistic tone of Industry and Ideology. Pendas noted that Hayes makes a much clearer judgment about business and Nazi Germany in From Cooperation to Complicity. Therefore, it makes sense to provide a detailed review here to compare it to Industry and Ideology.

Hayes opens up his preface with straightforward discussion of how history is written from both the perspective of the writer, but also of its sources (xviii). I cannot help but think this is a direct response to criticisms that he let the sources speak too much for themselves in Industry and Ideology.

However, Hayes immediately restates the old argument of holding back criticism for corporate managers. He contends that people generally act out of self-interest rather than altruism. I found that to be a cynical, if not debatable view; one might respond then by asking why write history at all, but this is a discussion for another time. Highlighting this point, Hayes writes, “That Degussa’s managers could and should have known better and found ways of acting differently is now generally understood; but that does not justify overlooking the impediments to such clarity and courage at the time” (19). Hayes again asks a tall order. He contends, “Contempt should be reserved, nonetheless, for the movement that mobilized and manipulated their [Degussa’s] talents and weaknesses” (19).

Why, exactly, do we need to reserve contempt? Is it a finite resource? Yes, we should preserve historical clarity in order to understand the past, but does that mean we cannot be outraged about the company that sold the Nazis the Zyklon B canisters it needed for mass murder? I continue to find such a viewpoint a bit unnerving.

As we enter the second chapter, the problems in Industry and Ideology crop up again in From Cooperation to Complicity. It is a detailed analysis, but too much so for the lack of obvious structure. Hayes neither sums up his ideas in the beginning nor at the end of this fifty page chapter. It is very easy to lose sight of who is important and what their relationship to the Nazis. Backtracking is tedious. If this was written only for specialists, how much should we blame people like Edwin Black who jump to conclusions?

Essentially Hayes argues in the second chapter that Degussa aligned itself with the Nazis without having to be pressed to do so. According to Hayes, one of the most well-connected Nazis that wanted to take more direct control of Degussa, Werner Lüps, conveniently died when he drove into a bomb crater during a business trip, relieving other managers from worrying about their autonomy. Apparently they celebrated the news of his death with champagne (67,72-3).

Again, some of what Hayes writes stretches my ability to suspend moral outrage. Hayes demonstrates that over half of Degussa’s capitalization (18 million Reichmarks) during the twelve year Reich was due to the acquisition of Jewish owned property seized with the help of the Nazis. This includes at least ten businesses, seven in Germany and three in “protectorate” Czech areas (74). These were profitable properties. In fact, Degussa’s headquarters in Frankfurt stood on some of this formerly Jewish property until 1987 (75). Hayes concludes his third chapter by reiterating that stealing property from Jews was profitable overall, despite the costs from war destruction (110). Hayes does not express this point as clearly as he could.

Hayes has an interesting tidbit on Edwin Black in chapter four. There is criticism of Black’s Transfer Agreement and IBM and the Holocaust here. Hayes argues that Black overstates the effects of the US boycott of German exports. I found this both interesting as a reason for Black’s hostility toward Hayes as well as the implications of this observation: If the world (read: the US) was actually taking more of Germany’s exports, would that mean that the international business community promoting these exports has even more share of blame for helping the Nazis rearm? This is a pertinent question for further research.

Hayes demonstrates that Degussa did not need to worry about exports anyway by 1937 (112). Domestic demand was high. Profits were at an all time high. The normally export-dependent chemical industry firm was doing well.

Not only that, Hayes notes that like other German firms, Degussa had to swap out foreign currency for Reichmarks at the National Bank. Foreign business was mainly done as insurance to preserve market position and guard against future downturns. Hayes notes that overseas money was needed by Nazi Germany in order to obtain indispensable material from abroad it could not produce at home. This was primarily for the purposes of rearmament. Hitler threatened to shut down companies that could not retrieve this foreign capital (113). This is another interesting revelation about overseas business.

In this section, I noticed Hayes often repeats a quote from manager Fritz Roessler: “The executive will work in the future in the truest sense ‘for the King of Prussia,’ only now one says: for the people’s community” (113). Essentially, Hayes uses this quote to demonstrate that corporate leaders within Nazi Germany knew that they were operating within a dictatorship and had little choice.

It is a good quote, but that does not mean Degussa’s managers are beyond judgment.

Hayes goes on to discuss Degussa’s entry into other enterprises as economic activity picked up with the Nazi’s Four Year Plan for rearmament. Hayes argues that Degussa, like Nazi Germany itself, could only maintain competitiveness through conquest. Hayes doesn’t mince words, he says the end result was “implication in pillage and murder” (146). I appreciated Hayes’ lucidity here.

Processing stolen gold and silver is the other really unsavory business Degussa was involved in. In chapter five, Hayes demonstrates that Degussa’s precious metals business was a textbook case of how Nazi goals dictated the parameters of commercial activity, which channeled corporate ambitions into the service of the regime’s exploitative purposes. Germany had limited mineral deposits. Nearly all gold and silver came from foreign sources (148). Hayes points out how important fine metals were to German consumer industries, and industrial applications; not to mention a medium of international exchange. Essentially, Degussa was the principle purchaser of these goods which were a matter of intense long term importance for the Nazis. Degussa had the largest capacity to separate gold or silver from ores and alloys on a large scale of all the other similar German companies (149).

This portion of the text leads to some pretty shocking revelations about stolen gold. According to their own records, Degussa’s minimum intake of plundered gold from 1940-5 exceeds five metric tons. 2.1 tons were stolen from Jews. They also processed 412-420 metric tons. 51 tons of silver out of that total also came from Jews (187). However, Hayes suggests that gaps in Degussa’s records indicate a much higher amount of plundered metals. He suggests they likely processed more than 100 tons of stolen precious metals. Hayes writes, “Given the enormous volumes involved, which came to seveneteen times Degussa’s wartime output, and the paucity of other possible sources, the inference is inescapable that almost all of the gold that entered Degussa’s refineries during the war years was stolen property” (188).

Again, I flash back to Hayes warning to reserve judgment for the Nazis and not Degussa. This is a challenge.

To further underline the criminality of Degussa, Hayes demonstrates that gold output spiked during periods of mass murder during the Holocaust (189). Likewise, Hayes estimated profits from plundered precious metals. From Jews, this was roughly 8 million dollars worth. In case this topic immediately brings the need for reparations to mind, Hayes makes the argument that war damage decimated Degussa’s profits. According to Hayes, the company purportedly lost 15-20 million dollars from the war damage (190-191).

Hayes gives a short run down of the failed lawsuit against Degussa in New Jersey in 1999. The case was closed due to being outside the scope of American judicial review. For reference this is Alice Burger-Fischer et al. v. Degussa AG Civil Action No. 98-3958 Sept 10, 1999.

Hayes also notes that Degussa initially denied the charges of processing plundered gold in 1948 (192). However, when workers at Degussa were interviewed about their memories of working with incoming gold fillings for the company in 1998, they had this to say:

“the crowns and bridges, there were those where the teeth were still attached…That was the most depressing, the fact that everything was still there. It was probably like it had been when broken out of the mouth. The teeth were still there and sometimes bloody and with pieces of gum on them” (193).

And yet Hayes still asks us to suspend our judgment. He writes, “But laboring to establish such specific knowledge conclusively seems – from a historian’s point of view if perhaps not a lawyer’s – almost beside the point. One simply has no reason to believe that the firm’s leaders would have rejected these intakes even if fully informed of the circumstances of their origin, perhaps even if openly confronted with them” (193-194). Hayes argues that Degussa would lose its standing if it refused to cooperate with Nazi crimes. This is still the core argument Hayes was criticized for in Industry and Ideology emerging in From Cooperation to Complicity: Would feelings of shame and disgust processing the spoils of genocide cause people to quit their job? Apparently not.

This is Hayes’ opinion, not historical fact. Should we deny these workers their agency out of cynicism for human nature? This is really the argument Hayes is making.

Degussa also utilized forced labor. The DAF, the German Labor Front, began sending Jewish prisoners to Degussa in 1939. Hayes says company managers did not want this, but the labor market was tight (236-237). The expansion of the Nazi need for both soldiers and goods pushed Degussa to accept more forced laborers between 1940 and 1945. Hayes disputes the profitability of Degussa’s forced laborers, even though he calls it reprehensible, which I appreciated (268).

Hayes argues that it is both easy and hard to calculate profits as a result of forced labor. 1942/43 and 1943/44 were the highest gross profit years; however, there aren’t accurate records of how many forced laborers Degussa had. Calculating inmate rates are easier, because there are clearer records. Hayes calculates that Degussa might have made 20 million dollars worth of extra profits, but because they lost the war, these profits were eaten by war damage and appropriations by the victors (269-70).

Hayes does acknowledge that despite loss of profits, claims for compensation for unremunerated work and physical and mental anguish remained to be paid by Degussa (270). And this is where Hayes states one of his main arguments: He writes, “it is neither morally nor historically sound to measure its evil by its lucrativeness” (270-1). Hayes argues this because it is political rather than economic forces that shaped Degussa’s policies.

This begs the question: Do different contexts remove the agency of historical actors? Hayes reminds us that international law has consistently defined the German state as the culprit, not corporations. However, Hayes does lay blame. In From Cooperation to Complicity, Degussa shows little hesitation; they actually aggravated the regime by attempting to profit, economically rationalizing Nazi goals, which themselves were not rational.

Hayes appears to conclude that these leaders did have some freedom to act, which opens them up to judgment. I found this particularly important, because this is my main contention with his work. If we cannot make a point about the tendency for a corporate entity to do whatever is profitable without oversight, including engaging in the most egregious of human rights abuses, then why are we talking about these corporations in the first place?

I am glad Hayes took a stand here.

Probably the most disturbing, yet anticlimactic portion of the book is on Zyklon B. People recognize the name Zyklon instantly even though only 1% of the chemical manufactured was used to commit mass murder. It was used on a massive scale at Auschwitz, and to a lesser extent in Majdanek, Mauthausen, Stutthof, Neuengamme, Natzweiler, and possibly Dachau and Sachsenhausen. The gas killed approximately 1 million people, the majority of them Jews (272). Hayes concedes that calculations are complex, but estimates that Degussa’s subcontractors Degesh and Testa made somewhere around 120 thousand (in 1999 dollars) and Degussa saw around six thousand dollars in profit from dividends from these companies.

Hayes’ books contain a wealth of information on the Holocaust. I believe that the confusion about his work comes from the lack of clear intentions in presenting this information the way he does. As I noted earlier, no historian can claim complete objectivity. Scholars research the topics they do for various reasons and this helps shape their audience’s reaction to their work.

Hayes’ audience appears to be other specialists, which explains the steep learning curve needed to really dig in to his scholarship. If we want to get a better sense of Hayes’ intentions for working on this material, it is helpful to also look beyond these two books where he makes his position more explicit.

I admit I have not read everything Hayes has written, nor is it my goal to review his entire body of work; however, there is one essay in particular I would like to present and respond to here.

* * *

The book Holocaust Restitution: Perspectives on the Litigation and Its Legacy (2006) is a collection of essays in which Hayes makes a contribution. As one might expect, the topic of his short piece is Holocaust restitution. Since we know that Hayes has intimate knowledge of businesses directly involved with the Holocaust, we can get a better perspective about what he thinks should be done about their crimes.

Hayes starts this article by declaring victory in the battle for disclosure of information and recompense for victims (197). His phrasing arouses my skepticism. Is it fair that he has declared victory? As a researcher in this topic, I can personally attest that there is far too much we still do not know about business and Nazi Germany. I am very shy about speaking for any other group of people that has been subject to crimes against humanity. Should Jews feel satisfied? I believe this is not an answerable question without delving into the dangerous, paternalistic territory of telling others how they should feel about historic losses.

Also, a quick side note: Hayes references this “victory” of disclosure by citing some works that are by no means the last word on business and Nazis. Both Harold James and Gerald Feldman are top scholars, but that does not mean their work does not have problems. For instance, in Deutsche Bank’s commissioned history by Harold James, it is never mentioned that Deutsche Bank destroyed a lot of their own records to cover up stolen gold. This is not a small problem. But this is a discussion for another time; suffice is to say that Hayes’ uncritical citation of James as a “victory” of disclosure has some ironic value.

Hayes then makes an argument which should now be familiar: The pursuit of Holocaust-era recompense and disclosure have created “collateral damage” to accurate historical understanding. Hayes contends that there are persistent distortions about the quantity of personal and corporate profits that were actually gained by those perpetrating the Holocaust. According to Hayes, “emotion has ruled the day” in this battle. He calls survivor group lawyer’s insistence on “disgorgement” of funds “morally and practically” problematic.

To this I would respond: What does Hayes expect? We are talking about about the Holocaust. This event has literally become a symbol of historic criminality. Attempting to account for the harm done is going to be emotional. And yes, lawyers are going to maximize their claims. I find it somewhat unreasonable to have different expectations.

He continues by arguing that many corporations involved with Nazi Germany ultimately experienced financial losses rather than gains. Unsurprisingly, he uses Degussa as an example.

This is also a problem. Degussa is not necessarily representative of all corporations that did business with the Nazis. Likewise, due to very complex and still obscure means of sequestering profits we still do not know exactly where all profits went. Hayes references James in passing in this essay but does not acknowledge that James wrote at length about stacks of stolen gold, which sat for decades in a vault in Switzerland before it was tracked down. And that is just one example we know about. Many records on corporate profits were destroyed or sit in corporate archives which historians do not have access to.

Hayes own calculations about Degussa’s profits also illustrate another problem: If you compare the calculations in this essay to those in From Cooperation to Complicity, there are discrepancies. In the essay in Holocaust Restitution, Hayes acknowledges about 140 thousand dollars in profits (199). This is on the high end. Minus expenses and overhead from subcontractors, he cites a total profit to Degussa of about 23 thousand dollars, which is a more conservative figure. This does match up well to his calculations in From Cooperation to Complicity of around 120 thousand on the high end and about 6 thousand on the low end. In both places I daresay it would help if he gave the main figure first and how he reached that calculation second in order to be clear.

What is clear in his essay is his complaint. And this is what people will see and understand.

Hayes then moves on to stolen gold, which was more profitable than Degussa’s sales of poison gas agents. Essentially, Hayes argues that substantial sums were stolen from Jews which he calculates at about 8 million dollars worth; however, he notes that the victorious Allies appropriated far more than that and that this Jewish stolen gold was only a small portion of Degussa’s profits anyway.

It would appear that the argument Hayes is making is the one present in the Degussa book: Tracking profits has some allure, but the Holocaust is an enormous crime that falls outside the realm of accounting. Hayes does not mention the teeth and gums still attached to some of the gold he talks about in the Degussa book. That might have helped provide some perspective.

Hayes then moves on to forced labor, arguing that Degussa lost money on slaves due to cost overruns elsewhere in the company (201). He then makes a larger point about how forced labor in Nazi Germany was inefficient and often not always profitable. The Nazis had to spend a lot of money on guards.

Ultimately, Hayes argues that Degussa lost money overall due their involvement with the Holocaust. I did find it curious that he did not mention the Jewish real estate the company also held into the 1980s. I did not see calculations on what profits were derived from this stolen property over the years.

Hayes contends that the hyped image of corporate profits were used a club to extract restitution, which occurred out of court between survivor groups and the German government.

Why does Hayes spend so much time arguing from the perspective of the corporations and so little from the survivor groups? His analysis appears consistently one sided.

Is it really a surprise that survivor groups and their lawyers would hype profits? Is it really unreasonable for groups subject to genocide use whatever means necessary to extract justice?

As a junior specialist, let me again underline that we do not know the dimensions of profits. There is plenty we still do not know. If he has yet unpublished work on Swiss holding companies, I would sure like to see it. It bothers me that Hayes believes we have the final word on this already. Has he read the conclusion of the Bergier commission studying how Nazi profits flowed through Switzerland? You can read it here.

The Bergier commission concludes their study by calling for further investigations.

Hayes does acknowledge that “negotiated justice” is better than nothing. I appreciate this. He makes this point with a comparison to Al Capone finally getting caught for tax evasion because there was nothing else officials could charge him for.

However, Hayes immediately raises my ire again by arguing unequivocally that few German firms grew rich off the Holocaust. As I noted above, we simply do not know enough yet to make that broad a statement. I found his lack of qualifiers disturbing.

But this is really the core of what he is saying:

“Perhaps if we talk less in the future about disgorgement of largely fictitious profits on extreme human suffering, we can talk more about finding a way for domestic and international courts to assess appropriate recompense for what really mattered: heartbreakingly huge and irreparable losses” (203).

I wholeheartedly agree.

We should focus on how to achieve justice for the human losses, not for the corporate profits, whether they be large or small. I wish I had more clearly understood the core intention behind his scholarship earlier.

* * *

I hope that this article demonstrates how easy it can be to make a mistake. Despite Hayes’ lack of clarity in a lot of his writing, and his often dogged effort to maintain a neutral position, I made an error by spreading an untruth about his relationship to the company he was studying. Figuring out what he was really trying to say to took serious, time-consuming work. Historians always have motivations for the subjects they choose and how they portray them. One is better served by continuing to strive to understand them better.

As far as I can tell, Peter Hayes is an independent historian and was not on the payroll of any corporation when he produced the two books under review here. Before writing about his alleged “ancillary support” from IG Farben, I should have spent more time with Hayes’ writing. Instead, I formed my opinion before doing the research. For all the criticisms I have about Hayes’ work, it is my responsibility to figure out what the author was actually saying before making public statements about it.

I am not sure if Hayes is even aware of me or my scholarship. I do not know if he will see this. In any case, I hope this essay is seen as a necessary corrective as well as a more nuanced analysis of his work.

Being a good scholar means challenging your own views and learning from your mistakes. Hayes will not have the final word about corporate activity or corporate profits derived by companies collaborating with Nazi Germany. Neither will I. What is important is that we continue a dialog about the topic so that we can approach a deeper understanding, not just between specialists, but for everyone.

Leave a Comment

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: