John Cornwell’s works always have a hint of sulfur about them. After his controversial essay on “The Pope and Hitler, the Secret History of Pius XII” published in 1999 which continues to be debated, this historian and journalist tackles another sensitive subject: the responsibility of the German scientific community during the Third Reich and, more broadly, the question of whether scientific research can remain aloof, or even absolve itself in the name of the specificity of science, from the political environment in which it operates. One can always critique the angle chosen by the author, but one cannot fault his sources and references, whose abundance is not the least of the strengths of this work.
In an introduction that extends into the initial chapters, the author lays out a “chronicle of German science” starting from the beginning of the 20th century. This chronicle is accompanied by personal reflections that already hint at a sort of anti-German sentiment illustrated by his fear of Germany being too powerful within the current European Union. Could this be a consequence of his personal history when, as a “little boy” in 1944, he experienced the fall of V1 rockets on London? Nevertheless, John Cornwell provides detailed insights into how Germany was already, in the first three decades of the preceding century, the “Mecca of science”—and not to interpret the unconscious dimension of the metaphor—in all fields comprising “Wissenschaft,” a broad field of knowledge, ahead of other European powers which Hitler would decisively endow with an absolute racial tone, an element already fermenting among some renowned German researchers.
Not only did Nazism use “authentic science” to develop hygienist and anti-Semitic theories, but it also demanded its application in developing various types of weapons intended to eradicate what the leaders of the Third Reich considered a “threat.” From medicine, particularly psychiatry, to mathematics, physics, biology, and chemistry, no field escaped the grip of the Führer’s collaborators. Immediate consequences of Hitler’s rise to power included the exclusion of all Jewish-origin scientists: thus, a thousand academics were expelled from research centers and several hundred professors, particularly those from the famous Kaiser Wilhelm Institute, were forced to resign. This resulted in an exodus of 25% of the physics community, including several Nobel laureates from the University of Heidelberg, and the centers in Berlin and Göttingen, then the “world center of mathematical physics.”
“Intractable,” Hitler utterly disregarded the risks inherent in this decision: “a loss for Germany and an immense gain for Great Britain and the United States,” the author emphasizes. He develops an idea that will serve as a common thread throughout his book: he repeatedly shows how the nature and structure of Hitler’s power—and the intrinsic fears of this regime of terror—could hinder or cause the Third Reich to miss certain important technological advances or scientific discoveries. Contrary to the Hitlerian myth, he explicates how the otherwise efficient war industry could also suffer the consequences of “the anarchy of a polycratic system” and “contradictory demands,” or even “corruption,” in a field for which its chief responsible, Göring, was not a specialist.
John Cornwell particularly highlights the issue of nuclear weapons, recounting the crucial meeting in the spring of 1942 with scientist Heisenberg and Albert Speer, charged by Hitler to take over the responsibilities of the Minister of Armaments and Munitions, Todt, who died enigmatically during his plane’s takeoff: convinced that it was now impossible to win the war, this general had just recommended to Hitler to seek a political solution. The interpretation of this meeting is debated: while Nazi Germany sought new weapons to reverse the dire situation of 1942—entry of the United States into the war and difficulties on the Russian front—the scientist Heisenberg gave the “impression that the technical conditions for creating an atomic bomb were not met” and that a two-year delay would be necessary to achieve it. Heisenberg used this argument to feed the hypothesis, and his post-war reputation, of deliberate sabotage of his part of the program and, according to him, a testament to his conscience that such destructive power should not fall into the hands of the Nazis. This did not prevent him from continuing his work and developing other armaments,from receiving the “prestigious Copernicus Prize from the Reich University of Königsberg, collaborating with the Nazi daily ‘Völkischer Beobachter’, and being ultimately endorsed by Göring for the First Class War Cross. As you can see, there are quite a few counterarguments.
One will appreciate the ultimate illumination provided by the author in the form of a closing chapter dedicated to “Farm Hall”, the place where several Nazi scientists were confined after the capitulation of Berlin. Their stay under close surveillance allowed the collection of confidences from those involved, including Heisenberg’s. Perhaps John Cornwell is being naive when he takes at face value the words of the “guests” who “did not believe in the existence of microphones”, despite all the rooms where they resided being equipped with them. The interest of these tapes: none of these scientists showed remorse for their work during this period while absolving themselves of responsibilities. This was in the name of the “purity” of science. Science against history in a way. But it’s the latter that has finally judged the former.
John Cornwell’s “Hitler’s Scientists, Story of a Pact with the Devil,” published by Editions Albin Michel in 2008, is available at Fnac.com.
