TODAY, IBM (International Business
Machines) is a massive New York based multinational technology
corporation with operations around the world.
It
has annual revenue of $US81 billion and 380,000 employees. Finance
magazines Barron’s and Fortune dub IBM the world’s most respected and
admired company.
However, the huge corporation has a dark, secret
past it doesn’t tell you about in its glossy brochures listing Nobel
prize winners and technological breakthroughs.
What they don’t
tell you is that in the 1930s IBM was instrumental in providing
groundbreaking technology that assisted the Nazi regime in identifying
and tracking down Jews for its methodical program of genocide.
One
of the machines is displayed in a place of prominence at the United
States Holocaust Memorial Museum in Washington DC. The IBM badge can be
clearly seen.
It
was a technical marvel of its time, the forerunner of today’s
computers. The complex-looking machine was a punch card and card-sorting
system initially built to assist the collation of vast amounts of
information gathered in a census.
In the 1930s, IBM was one of the
largest firms in the world, a true multinational conglomerate, with its
headquarters in New York.
Oddly, IBM has Germanic origins. Herman
Hollerith was the son of German immigrants. Working in the US Census
Bureau, he was still in his twenties when he devised a machine using
punch cards to tabulate the 1890 census.
A smart businessman, he
didn’t sell the machines or the punch cards but only leased them to
whoever needed work done. It was a formula that kept the money rolling
in.
His machines were used in censuses around the world, as well as for major operations such as railways and shipping.
Hollerith
set up a subsidiary in Germany called Deutsche Hollerith Maschinen
Gesellschaft — Dehomag for short — and assigned it all of his patents.
In 1911 Hollerith sold his firm to financier Charles Flint, who put
tough and ambitious salesman Thomas Watson in charge. The name was
changed to International Business Machines, IBM for short, and the
company grew and grew.
In 1924 IBM owned eighty-four per cent of
Dehomag, and the firm’s New York headquarters kept a close eye on all
that its German subsidiary did throughout the war.
American
investigative author Edwin Black was deeply shocked when he saw the IBM —
Dehomag machine in Washington’s Holocaust Museum. The museum said on
the display that IBM was responsible for organising the German census of
1933, which for the first time identified all Jews in the German
population.
Black was mystified how an iconic American corporation
could be involved in the Holocaust, the most evil act of the twentieth
century. He then spent decades digging up the links between IBM America
and the Nazi genocide of millions of Jews and other inmates of the
concentration camps.
He said IBM tried to block his access to the
firm’s records at every turn. But from archives around the world, and
some files from IBM, he managed to assemble 20,000 documents that
revealed IBM’s horrific role in the war, and in 2001 Black published his
groundbreaking findings in IBM and the Holocaust.
It was
shocking. Black wrote that IBM headquarters in New York knew all about
its German subsidiary designing and supplying indispensable
technological equipment that allowed the Nazis to achieve what had never
been done before — “the automation of human destruction”.
Buried
deep in the files of the IBM company and German archives, Black alleged
he discovered IBM boss Thomas Watson was an enthusiastic supporter of
the Nazis from the very early years of the rise of Hitler.
“IBM NY
always understood from the outset in 1933 that it was courting and
doing business with the upper echelon of the Nazi Party,” Black wrote.
Watson
was obsequious in pandering to the Nazi hierarchy, writing a grovelling
letter in 1937 to Nazi Economics Minister Hjalmer Schacht declaring
that the world must extend “a sympathetic understanding to the German
people and their aims under the leadership of Adolf Hitler”.
To
show his gratitude to Watson and the support of IBM, Hitler personally
bestowed on Watson a special swastika-bedecked medal to honour his
unique service to the Reich — the Order of the German Eagle with Star.
Black
writes that in June 1940 Watson was forced to return the medal after
public outrage that such a prominent American business leader would be
in possession of a Nazi medal while Nazi troops occupied Paris.
Black
found documents showing that Watson encouraged the IBM German
subsidiary to build and supply 2000 of the card punch machines to Nazi
Germany and thousands more in nations that the Nazis conquered.
From
the moment Hitler came to power in 1933, IBM used its monopoly on punch
card technology to “organise, systemise and accelerate Hitler’s
anti-Jewish program, step by step facilitating the tightening noose”.
After
years of investigating IBM’s connections to the Nazis and the Third
Reich, Black is in no doubt that “Thomas Watson and his corporate
behemoth were guilty of genocide”.
Black concludes that for Watson
and IBM, trading with the monster of Nazi Germany wasn’t about
anti-Semitism or National Socialism. “It was always about the money.’”
Machines belonging to IBM’s subsidiary Dehomag were set up in every concentration camp.
IBM’s
custom-made punch cards from the camps sorted inmates by religion,
nationality, sexual orientation, family history and political leaning.
Each camp had its own number on the cards. Auschwitz was 001, Buchenwald
002, Dachau 003, and so on. It then showed each prisoner’s
classification. An 8 designated a Jew, homosexuals were 3,
“anti-socials” (which meant political prisoners) were 9, Gypsies were
12.
The manner of death in the camps was recorded by its own
number — 4 was execution, 5 was suicide, 6 was the gas chamber, 3 was
death by natural causes such as starvation or disease.
Black
said documents released by the German archives show that staff from
IBM’s German subsidiary had to create codes to differentiate between a
Jew who had been worked to death and one who had been gassed. The
machines methodically recorded the fate of every prisoner.
Every
two weeks, staff from IBM’s German subsidiary visited the camps to
service the machines, deliver new blank cards, print and collate the
punched cards, and reconfigure the machines if any change in information
was requested by the SS or Gestapo.
Black found documents showing
that IBM’s German subsidiary built a reinforced-concrete bombproof
blockhouse to protect its twelve valuable machines at Dachau.
“IBM
equipment was among the Reich’s most important weapons, not only for
its war against the Jews, but in its general military campaigns and
control of railway traffic,” wrote Black.
“Watson personally
approved expenditures to add bomb shelters to Dehomag installations
because the cost was borne by the company. Such costs cut into IBM’s
profit margin. Watson’s approval was required because he received a one
per cent commission on all Nazi business profits.”
As the Third
Reich expanded across Europe, IBM’s subsidiaries in the Netherlands,
Poland, France and other conquered nations supplied machines to aid the
Nazi genocide of Jews, Gypsies, homosexuals and other peoples.
Since
the machines were leased, not sold, the Nazi regime had to keep on
paying for them throughout the Holocaust years. The profits were
enormous. Invoices for every machine and punch card went from the Third
Reich subsidiaries to the IBM office in Geneva, and then on to
headquarters in New York.
In May 1941 the Geneva office reported
to Watson in New York that Dehomag was cutting the price of its rented
machines for the Nazis by ten per cent. “This would mean a reduction of
approximately 1,500,000 Reichsmarks in the gross annual production of
the company.”
As Nazi Germany advanced across Europe in 1939, 1940
and 1941, pressure mounted on the United States to stop sitting on the
sidelines and join Britain, the Commonwealth and the Soviet Union in
fighting the Nazi evil.
Nazi atrocities received coverage in the
American press, but that didn’t stop IBM from keeping its business going
with the Nazis. IBM’s communications with its subsidiaries in
Nazi-controlled Europe became difficult, but Black found documents
indicating that the US State Department had been extremely helpful
behind the scenes.
In January 1941, Watson wrote to the assistant
chief of the US State Department’s European Affairs division thanking
him for passing on letters to an IBM salesman in Berlin. US embassies in
Nazi-occupied lands were also helpful in passing on messages to IBM
salesmen busy setting up subsidiaries to do business with the new Nazi
occupiers.
In September 1941, war with Germany seemed inevitable
for the Americans. President Franklin D Roosevelt banned trade with the
Nazi regime unless the government issued a special permit for each
transaction.
IBM had to tell its subsidiaries that from now on
they would have to operate on their own. Watson did not order IBM’s
German subsidiary to stop supplying machines to the Nazis. On the
contrary. Watson expected them to keep making money for the IBM empire
even though, after December 1941 when war was declared, they were the
enemy.
In war, Watson saw yet another business opportunity.
Through a new US subsidiary, Munitions Manufacturing Corporation, Watson
quickly converted a large slice of IBM’s US production capacity to
making weapons — 20-millimetre anti-aircraft cannon, Browning automatic
rifles, bomb sights, M1 carbine rifles — all stamped with the IBM logo.
The
punch card machine also proved profitable on home ground. If a US
official wanted to know where a particular soldier or sailor was, an IBM
machine could pinpoint his location anywhere in the world.
The
day after the attack on Pearl Harbor, IBM machines were used to locate
every person of Japanese origin in the United States for internment. IBM
punch cards identified every American by race.
The company also
developed code-breaking machines. “It was an irony of the war that IBM
equipment was used to encode and decode for both sides of the conflict,”
Black wrote.
War was good for IBM. Ninety days after Pearl
Harbor, an excited Watson told the press that IBM had secured $150
million in defence contracts. IBM’s total wartime sales and rentals grew
from $46 million in 1940 to $140 million a year by 1945.
Watson
cloaked himself in the US flag and embarked on an expensive public
relations campaign to put himself and IBM at the forefront of patriotism
and the US war effort. He proclaimed IBM only made one per cent profit
from the sale of military equipment it made for the US government.
Democrats asked Watson to run for Governor of New York. He declined.
In
1943, however, the Economic Warfare Section of the US Justice
Department, the unit responsible for investigating cases of trading with
the enemy, looked into IBM’s deals with Nazi Germany. It didn’t like
what it saw.
The unit’s chief investigator, Howard J Carter, wrote
a memo to his superiors warning that corporations like IBM had become
larger and more powerful than nations. Carter was denied access to
crucial files by IBM that could have proved how closely it was linked to
the Nazi regime.
In reality, there was nothing Carter could do to
challenge IBM. The company was simply too big and too essential to the
US war machine.
As Allied troops rolled back the German army in
1944 and 1945, IBM officials followed right behind them, anxious to
secure the equipment and records of its pre-war subsidiaries. Every file
and banknote recovered was sent to IBM’s Geneva office.
Dehomag
emerged from the ruins of Germany relatively unscathed. “Its machines
were salvaged, profits preserved and corporate value protected,” wrote
Black.
With the war over, IBM was able to recapture its highly
profitable German subsidiary and assimilate all the profits Dehomag had
made trading with the Nazi regime.
Former IBM employee James T
Senn was a US army corporal but considered himself part of the “IBM
Army”, a network of former IBM employees in the military services who
had all been promised their jobs back when the war was over.
On 26
April 1945, Senn wrote to Watson that he had just visited the Dehomag
firm in Sindelfingen, 644 kilometres southwest of Berlin. Senn said he
and his captain — another member of the IBM Army — were the first
Americans to set foot in the plant since the war and that they had been
greeted by Dehomag employees.
“The entire factory is intact,
spared for some unknown reason by our airmen ... every tool, every
machine is well preserved and ready to start work at a moment’s notice
... a card stock of over a million cards is ready for shipment,” an
excited Senn wrote to his old boss. Senn concluded by saying that
Dehomag managers Herr Haug and Herr Wiesinger “would like to be
remembered to you”.
Edwin
Black reports that IBM files from 1945 contain many such letters. One
IBM Army officer, Lieutenant Colonel Lawrence Flick, proudly told Watson
how he tried to assist Dehomag managers who had been detained or
arrested by the Allies and get them back to work for IBM.
Watson
was furious. He didn’t want the German managers restored to their
positions; he had other plans, and told the top army brass to tell Flick
to stop interfering. The Pentagon acted swiftly, promptly retiring
Flick and sending him back to the US.
IBM immediately took back
control of the rest of its European subsidiaries and demanded the
profits they had made during the war. In this demand IBM had the
assistance of the US government, who was keen on IBM getting back its
machines because they were needed to run the military occupation of
post-war Germany.
When it came time to put German industrialists
and Nazi leaders on trial, it was IBM machines that stored and collated
the evidence and translations. While many German war profiteer
corporations, such as the mammoth IG Farben, were stripped for war
reparations, Dehomag was untouched.
By 1949 the German subsidiary
was 100 per cent owned by IBM New York and the name was changed to IBM
Germany. Dehomag was gone. Nobody questioned the role of the IBM machine
and its Dehomag subsidiary in the Nazi death camps or the Nazi war
machine.
In the ruins of post-war Europe, IBM was back in business
big time. Allied military administrations turned to IBM to compile
statistics on post-war Germany. Wartime Dehomag managers were employed
in IBM Germany to do the job.
They never faced justice for their
involvement in the automation and information collating that enabled the
Nazis to carry out mass genocide.
Thomas Watson retired an
extremely wealthy man in 1956, aged 82. He was a respected businessman
and generous philanthropist who helped set up Binghamton University and
served as trustee of Columbia University.
He died five weeks after
retiring. His eldest son, Thomas Watson Junior, took over his position
as chief executive officer of IBM. He died in 1981. Another son, Arthur,
was president of IBM World Trade Corporation. He died in 1974.
On
the publication of Edwin Black’s book in 2001 about IBM and its link to
the Holocaust, IBM released a statement acknowledging that IBM
equipment supplied by Dehomag had been used by the Nazi government. But
IBM insisted that during the war Dehomag and hundreds of other
foreign-owned companies came under the control of Nazi authorities.
The
IBM statement said most records concerning Dehomag were lost or
destroyed during the war, but documents that did exist had been placed
on the public record to assist research and historical scholarship.
“IBM
and its employees around the world find the atrocities committed by the
Nazi regime abhorrent and categorically condemn any actions which aided
their unspeakable acts,” it said.
In a 2002 statement, IBM denied
assertions by Black that the company was withholding documents and
material from the wartime era.
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