Introduction
In their quest for power, the National Socialists were infiltrating many German civil society organizations. These efforts were part of a grander scheme to confront, and eventually replace, the values and social structures of the traditional elites. Historical studies have highlighted conflicts between National Socialists and the traditional bourgeois parties, specifically the conservative Deutsche Volkspartei (DVP) and the nationalist Deutschnationale Volkspartei (DNVP), as a pivotal feature of German politics in the years 1931 to 1933.Footnote 1 However, how did these conflicts play out within established organizations such as universities, where bourgeois values traditionally dominated? What strategies and tactics did the National Socialists use to unsettle established values and power structures? How did the traditional elites engage with the aggressive challenges of the National Socialists?
We know little about how these conflicts between traditional bourgeois and emergent National Socialists played out within organizations. Before 1933, political space was still contested, and it was not obvious that opposition to the Nazis could end one’s career. This study examines how the NSDAP gained influence through a microhistorical analysis of a single organization and its local historical context: the Technical University (TU) of Brunswick (Braunschweig) in the critical years of 1930–33.
German universities in the 1920s were deeply rooted in bourgeois culture and hierarchies, as most faculty and students came from the upper and middle classes. Republican values promoted by the 1918 revolution and embedded in the 1919 constitution were accepted, but rarely wholeheartedly embraced.Footnote 2 By the late 1920s, students dissatisfied with both republican politics and traditional power structures were seeking new channels to voice their grievances. Some found it in the National Socialist Students Association (NSDStB), which challenged the existing social order and its representatives, including professors.
The Free State of Brunswick, where the TU Brunswick was based, provides a particularly interesting historical context because from 1930 onwards the state was governed by a coalition of the NSDAP with the conservative and nationalist parties.Footnote 3 Here, the NSDAP attempted to secure German citizenship for Adolf Hitler, preferably by appointment as a professor at the TU. Thus, the TU faced agitation from both below (its own students) and above (the Ministry of Education).
As I will illustrate, individuals representing NS-affiliated organizations deliberately sought conflicts and rejected compromises or resolutions. Rather, conflicts served to raise their profile and recruit supporters for their cause. On the other hand, most professors believed in universities as apolitical spaces in the sense of keeping political activism out of university premises. Yet, the rules that the TU leadership imposed for this purpose proved ineffective.
The National Socialists challenged bourgeois institutions with their anti-intellectual and anti-bourgeois version of nationalism. This article traces the dynamics of this conflict in the context of broader tensions between National Socialists and traditional elites in German society. The National Socialists escalated conflicts deliberately, rather than seeking compromises or resolution, because for them, each conflict was a step towards eroding the existing power structures. On the other hand, the university became vulnerable because it lacked clear, codified, and independently enforced governance structures and collectively agreed codes of conduct.
The question of how a radical political organization could attain power in a democratic society is of high relevance to contemporary political discourses. Many societies experience a rise in political populism, which propagates radical and anti-intellectual ideologies.Footnote 4 Organizations struggle with both identifying their traits and developing counterstrategies. So far, the scholarly literature offers few insights into how organizations can manage conflicts when radical ideologues launch persistent, aggressive attacks on fundamental organizational values.Footnote 5
Historiography
The NSDAP positioned itself in radical opposition to republican and social democratic values, which it attacked through persistent propaganda and violent confrontations.Footnote 6 At the same time, as shown by Larry E. Jones, the relationship with the traditional elites and their political representatives alternated throughout the Weimar period between tactical cooperation and open conflict.Footnote 7 Hermann Beck identified the anti-bourgeois character as a key trait of the National Socialist movement and its propaganda before 1932. Nazi attacks were not directed at the bourgeois as a social class, but “its cultural attributes … a class-ridden educational system … and the alleged lack of moral fibre, toughness, and fighting spirit that were called for if the nation were to survive and thrive in a world full of enemies.”Footnote 8 In an earlier study, Beck has shown how the Nazis aggressively attacked individuals within the nationalist milieu, only temporarily easing their pressure in the weeks after Hitler was appointed chancellor of a coalition government in January 1933.Footnote 9 Studies of mid-sized cities point to similar complex dynamics between conservative and National Socialist milieus as critical for the latter’s rise.Footnote 10
Few studies investigate the dynamics of the Nazi-bourgeois conflict within organizations.Footnote 11 Studies of universities during the NS regime, often part of university anniversary volumes, highlight shared values and interests of National Socialists and traditional elites and the ease with which many professors adapted to the new regime after January 1933.Footnote 12 Yet, these studies rarely examine the period before the NSDAP attained power. Even fewer studies analyze the technical universities (Technische Hochschulen), which focused on engineering and science and had only small humanities, law, and social science units.Footnote 13
The TU Brunswick during the Weimar Republic and the Nazi regime has been documented by Birgit Pohl and Klaus Pollmann in a volume celebrating its 250th anniversary.Footnote 14 Michael Wettern and Daniel Weßelhöft offer detailed biographies of key protagonists, honoring victims of Nazi rule and identifying those complicit in or culpable for Nazi atrocities.Footnote 15 The introduction by Weßelhöft to the second of these volumes provides a detailed chronology for the years 1930 to 1945.
The Institutional Framework for Universities in Weimar Germany
The Weimar Constitution granted freedom of academic scholarship (Article 142) and secured free speech as long as it did not conflict with other laws (Article 118).Footnote 16 The interpretation of these freedoms was, however, contested. A leading legal commentary, the Handbook of German Constitutional Law of 1932, explained:
If a university professor expresses a teaching opinion based on scholarly conviction and with scholarly intent that does not comply with the prevailing laws of the state and public morals, this alone should not be grounds for taking action against him. This is the meaning of Article 142 of the Constitution insofar as it relates to academic freedom. On the other hand, a university teacher also exceeds the limits of freedom if he either violates the restrictions of the general laws of Article 118 or pursues not only scholarly goals with his expression of opinion, but also aims, for example, to engage in practical politics…Footnote 17
In universities, this was widely interpreted such that scholars were free to conduct research and share their insights from such research. Yet, scholars had to respect the law in other communications, including obligations of loyalty that they held as civil servants towards the state as their employer.
Academic freedom was institutionalized by organizing universities as self-governing public organizations (Körperschaft öffentlichen Rechts). However, their autonomy had two important limitations: the state parliament had to approve university budgets, and state ministers of education formally decided professorial appointments. Usually, universities conducted an academic evaluation process that generated a shortlist based on the scholarly qualifications of candidates.Footnote 18 From this shortlist, the relevant state-level minister would then select the new professor, normally the highest-ranked one. In some cases, the minister would request new proposals or suggest names himself. In Prussia, this process was mediated by the ministerial bureaucracy, such that the university and ministry usually reached a consensus; only rarely did a social democratic minister appoint a professor with republican credentials rather than a more nationalistic candidate proposed by the professoriate.Footnote 19
In smaller states, ministers could interfere more directly. In Thuringia, for example, the socialist Minister of Education Max Greil pushed through several professorial appointments at the University of Jena from 1921 to 1924.Footnote 20 In 1930, the first NSDAP minister of education in a German state, Wilhelm Frick, appointed a radical opponent of modern art as head of the schools of art in Thuringia, and he appointed the race theorist Hans F. K. Günther as professor at the University of Jena, against the opposition of the university president. Before 1932, however, these were exceptions; in most cases, the minister followed the shortlist of the university’s search committee.
Universities keenly defended their autonomy. Many professors resented liberal and social democratic education policies, notably in Prussia. To protect their autonomy and the freedom of their scholarship, universities followed a paradigm of “universities as apolitical spaces” and tried to ban party politics from their premises. The Association of University Presidents (Hochschulrektorenkonferenz) issued guidelines in 1927 that rejected “bringing party politics into the universities.”Footnote 21 Student organizations were supposed to represent the students, not political parties. However, “apolitical” did not imply that members of the university, including professors, would stay out of politics altogether. Indeed, many professors promoted nationalist objectives aligned with the DVP and the DNVP.Footnote 22 Their values were grounded in their middle or upper-class backgrounds, their early career experiences under the monarchy before 1914, and their roles as soldiers in the world war. For many professors, the extension of democracy with all votes counting equally and the leveling of hierarchies after 1918 resulted in a loss of status and relative income. Many lost their savings during the war or in the hyperinflation of 1923. By the end of the decade, resentments grew towards the parliamentary system and the reparations imposed by the victors. Thus, many professors were protective of the institutional autonomy of universities while remaining ambivalent towards the democratic institutions of the Weimar Republic.
The values among the professoriate were mirrored in the student body. Many students joined fraternities (Burschenschaften) that rejected the republic. Before 1918, many fraternities were engaged in the German colonial movement, and after 1918, they continued to reminisce about the monarchy and (perceived) past national glory.Footnote 23 In the 1920s, nationalist values prevailed, including occasional protests against left-leaning professors such as Georg Friedrich Nicolai in Berlin and Theodor Lessing in Hanover.Footnote 24 By the end of the decade, such conflicts became increasingly frequent and disruptive. They often targeted professors with pacifist views and/or Jewish ancestry, such as Emil Gumbel in Heidelberg,Footnote 25 Hans Nawiasky in Munich,Footnote 26 and Günther Dehn in Halle.Footnote 27
Historical Context of Brunswick
The Free State of Brunswick was a small state with about half a million people, of whom about a third lived in the capital city, also named Brunswick. The pendulum of democracy was swinging sharply between left and right in state elections.Footnote 28 From the revolution in November 1918 to 1924, the state was led by parties of the left or even the far left, which aimed to create a new, post-revolutionary republic. From 1924 to 1927, a conservative government rolled back some social reforms, invested in the expansion of the TU,Footnote 29 and tried to re-establish a sense of historical pride. From 1927 to 1930, the state was governed by the Social Democratic Party of Germany (SPD), which advanced progressive ideas, particularly in the education system. This study focuses on the period from September 1930 to January 1933, when Brunswick was governed by a coalition between the NSDAP and the Bourgeois Unity List (Bürgerliche Einheitsliste), an alliance of the DVP, the DNVP, and other conservative groups.
The revolution of 1918 had brought social democrats to power in the state. Grounded in the industrial working class, the SPD focused on people toiling in the factories or on large farms who faced inequalities of income and opportunities.Footnote 30 Prime Minister Heinrich Jasper (SPD) emphasized parliamentary democracy and enhanced opportunities for all social groups.Footnote 31 Yet, the party also had a strong left wing that grew out of the revolutionary movement of 1918 and focused on the social advancement of the working class, affordable education for people outside the elite, and strict separation between church and state. The SPD saw universities as a means to support local industry and to enhance teacher education but did not prioritize the TU in its political agenda.Footnote 32 Conversely, social democratic ideas were not influential within the TU.
The bourgeois middle classes focused on achievements in scientific discoveries, technological innovations, and the successful creation of businesses as drivers of economic prosperity. In Brunswick, they emphasized the city’s roots in a medieval trading and craft city and in the industrial revolution. Bourgeois values were grounded in the Lutheran faith, as 93.8% of the population identified as Lutheran in the 1900 census.Footnote 33 In the duchy of Brunswick, these values shaped government as the state parliament was elected by a three-class system under the 1832 constitution, which prevented the SPD from gaining any seats at all (notwithstanding that in 1913, it won two of the three Brunswick constituencies in the federal parliament (Reichstag) elections). After the 1918 revolution, bourgeois parties in Brunswick stood in opposition to the Social Democrat-led state, apart from 1924 to 1927, when a coalition of the DVP and the DNVP governed the state. However, urban elites, including the TU, retained their bourgeois values.Footnote 34 Within this value system, the TU played an important role supporting local industry, educating the next generation of leaders for civil service and business, and, implicitly, stabilizing existing elites and social hierarchies.
Nationalist sentiments were amplified by a sense of injustice that the country was suffering as a consequence of the Treaty of Versailles, and the reparations obligations in particular. National Socialists built on these sentiments and infused them with militaristic nationalism and racist concepts of who was to be considered a legitimate member of society. In Brunswick, they gained power after the September 1930 election, when the NSDAP gained 22.2% of the votes in the state election and joined a coalition government with the Bourgeois Unity List. The Nazi ideology was fundamentally anti-intellectual, prioritizing action over analysis and discourse. Despite being coalition partners, NSDAP members of parliament frequently launched personal attacks on their bourgeois counterparts. In the National Socialist ideology, universities were to be subordinated to nationalist and political aims; autonomous governance and academic freedom had no space within their worldview.Footnote 35
The Technical University in the 1920s
The TU Brunswick was the only university in the state and therefore played a pivotal role, not only in the education of the next generation of engineers and scientists, but also in the social life of the state. Founded in 1745 as a technical college, it was upgraded to a technical university in 1878, a time when many governments prioritized higher education in engineering and the sciences.Footnote 36 After the 1918 revolution, the TU became a self-governing institution within the public sector, which was confirmed by the state education law in 1928.Footnote 37 Thus, in theory, this institutional structure allowed the TU to manage its own affairs, including student admissions, discipline, and curriculum, while the minister’s power was limited to professorial appointments. However, as the only university in a small state, the TU had a more direct relationship with the minister of education and a less formal bureaucracy than, for example, Prussian universities.
In the TU, the university council, consisting of all full professors, was the highest decision-making body. The president (Rektor) was elected by all full professors and served as the highest representative of the TU. The council, however, failed to agree on new bylaws after 1918, so that some aspects of governance remained contested. In particular, the participation of academics other than full professors remained informal, leading to frustrations among younger academics.Footnote 38 Also, the prerogative to “keep party politics out” was institutionalized by the senate but lacked legitimacy in the eyes of some stakeholders.
Like the faculty, most students at the TU Brunswick originated from the middle and upper classes. Table 1 provides student demographics for the winter term 1928/29, illustrating a male-dominated, largely local community. The share of female students increased from 2.1% in 1925 to 7.6% in 1932, as many women joined the new program at the Department of Education.Footnote 39 However, the engineering programs had no female students at all. The share of foreign students peaked in 1923/24 at 13% but fell to 4% in 1932/33 due to economic instability and new programs in education attracting mainly local students.Footnote 40 The data on the students’ fathers’ jobs indicate family social status: only 2.1% of students originated from workers’ households, and 1.2% from low-level civil servants. These statistics are similar to those of other technical universities in the 1920s.Footnote 41
TU Brunswick: Student Demographics, Winter 1928/29
Table 1 Long description
Student counts are grouped by degree program with columns for total, of which foreign, and of which female. Mathematics had 7 total with 0 foreign and 2 female; physics 19 with 2 foreign and 0 female; architecture 68 with 6 foreign and 0 female; civil engineering 116 with 7 foreign and 0 female; machine engineering 232 with 24 foreign and 0 female; electrical engineering 138 with 15 foreign and 0 female; chemistry 109 with 9 foreign and 3 female; pharmacy 71 with 1 foreign and 8 female; education 122 with 0 foreign and 21 female; total 882 with 64 foreign and 34 female. Student counts are also grouped by faith with columns for total, of which foreign, and of which female. Lutheran totals were 738 with 17 foreign; Catholic 89 with 7 foreign and 2 female; other Christian 20 with 20 foreign and 0 female; Jewish 10 with 9 foreign and 0 female; other faiths 2 with 2 foreign and 0 female; secular 19 with 2 foreign and 1 female; unknown 4 with 1 foreign and 0 female. Foreign students are listed by origin with totals and of which female: Bulgaria 24 and 0 female, Romania 6 and 0 female, Hungary 4 and 0 female, and other 24 and 0 female. Domestic students are grouped by origin with columns for total and of which female: Brunswick 248 and 18 female, Prussia 418 and 14 female, Saxony 19 and 1 female, Hamburg 18 and 0 female, Bavaria 15 and 0 female, Thuringia 15 and 0 female, and other 57 and 1 female. Domestic students are also grouped by fathers social status with columns for total and of which female: civil service higher level 104 and 7 female, civil service middle level 213 and 13 female, civil service lower level 11 and 1 female, professions 83 and 3 female, military 11 and 0 female, agricultural estate owners 4 and 0 female, small and mid size farmers 39 and 0 female, company owners or directors 77 and 3 female, independent craft masters 82 and 1 female, trade and craft other 50 and 2 female, private sector employees 131 and 4 female, workers industry or agriculture 17 and 0 female, and other 2 and 0 female.
Source: Data compiled by the author from documents in Niedersächsisches Landesarchiv, Wolfenbüttel Branch, 12 A Neu, Fb. 16, Nr. 72.
Notes: Foreign students were identified by passport. Some statistics are not available for foreign students.
The value system of the professoriate was conservative and pragmatic. Many faculty were members of the DVP, but few were politically active.Footnote 42 Like at other technical universities, professors at the TU Brunswick worked closely with industry and were less engaged with contemporary politics than their peers in some traditional universities.Footnote 43
These values were on display during the annual Empire Day (Reichsgründungstag) celebration on January 18, an important day in the calendar of German universities. In Brunswick, the presidential speeches during the tenure of Carl Mühlenpfordt (1926–28) and Ernst Terres (1929–30) stressed the commitment to study and work hard to regain Germany’s international status through science and engineering.Footnote 44 Both professors also tended to emphasize the cordial relationship between students and faculty, who shared an ambition to see Germany rise again in the world. Indeed, in 1929, Terres held a keynote on the theme, “What can we learn from the Americans?” which concluded: “Like the Americans, we must believe in the success of our work, such that everyone occupies only the place he deserves, and we must believe that the impossible can be made possible through hard work and organization.”Footnote 45 This would be understood as a critique of promotion on criteria other than educational achievements, and hence, arguably, of the Social Democrat minister of education.
The tone changed in 1931 when university autonomy was under pressure from an NSDAP minister of education rather than one from the SPD. To protect their autonomy, university leaders believed not only in self-restraint with respect to party-political activity on campus but also requested that students refrain from bringing politics into the university. Thus, TU president Otto SchmitzFootnote 46 in January 1931 appealed for moderation in political activity on campus:
It is the prerogative of the young, and therefore also of students, to be enthusiastic about [national] ideals, and you can rest assured that we will cherish and nurture this enthusiasm as a valuable asset. However, this can never mean that we engage in party politics within the university in any way … What we can demand is that this activity, which is performed as a citizen, is not associated with things that have nothing to do with it. Science and party politics cannot be brought together, and we cannot tolerate the discord that we as German people suffer being carried into academic life.Footnote 47
In his January 1932 speech, Schmitz formulated his request in sharper words:
In all its actions, however, the student body must never forget that, just like the professoriate, it is the guardian of a precious asset, our academic freedom, and that it is just as responsible for the preservation of this asset as we are. And it can only fulfill this responsibility if it upholds academic discipline and academic dignity in the broadest sense. It is not compatible with bringing internal matters into the public eye, where they are ultimately only used as political agitation material and damage the university’s reputation.Footnote 48
Eleven months later, after multiple conflicts with National Socialist students, Schmitz’s successor Gustav Gassner emphasized the common values that were threatened by party politics. Without naming them, his words would be understood as a direct critique of the NSDStB:
… It’s not about some kind of ribbon or flag; it’s about the big question, and this must be clearly stated: Should the TU Brunswick remain a large independent university or not? The President and the Senate have no intention of influencing or restricting our students’ political freedoms in any way… However, when party politics are transplanted into the university, as is currently being attempted here to the greatest extent, I offer the strongest resistance precisely for national reasons. We will never achieve national unity if we put party politics above the nation, and what I currently experience here reinforces my point of view. We must get away from the unfortunate party politics that jeopardize the freedom of our university in a way never before seen in Germany.Footnote 49
At this time, December 1932, National Socialist activity within the TU was already severely disrupting university life and undermining the authority of the president and the senate.
Teacher Education and the Limits of Self-governance
Educational reforms attracted considerable controversy throughout the 1920s. Reformers advocated university-based courses for teacher training, but faced strong opposition from conservatives and the churches.Footnote 50 In Brunswick, the DVP-DNVP government (1924–27) initiated a three-year teacher training program at the TU. TU President Carl MühlenpfordtFootnote 51 initially resisted this idea as inconsistent with the ethos of a TU and his vision of the TU as a leader in technical fields. However, with additional resources being allocated to a separate department for teacher education, the majority of professors recognized the growth opportunities and supported the new program.Footnote 52
Yet, by the time the program was implemented, the SPD had taken over the government after the 1927 election. Faculty appointments to the new department were thus in the hands of the new minister of education, Hans Sievers, a representative of the left wing of the SPD.Footnote 53 Brunswick law allowed the minister to appoint professors to newly created university positions. Sievers used his authority to appoint leading scholars and practitioners supporting reform pedagogy. However, his management of appointment processes, while within the law, was controversial at the TU as it conflicted with the ethos of university autonomy. Professorial appointees to the social science department during Sievers’ tenure as minister were affiliated with the SPD.Footnote 54 This set precedents that the other side of the political spectrum would later use to impose their political appointees.
The social science department became one of the first targets when Anton Franzen (NSDAP) took over as minister of education in October 1930. With the support of the bourgeois parties, he put a conservative head teacher in charge of the teacher education program and sidelined those associated with reform pedagogy. Several recently appointed TU faculty members, including a full professor, were dismissed or offered early retirement while the new pedagogy research institute was closed.Footnote 55 Also, several instructor contracts were not renewed, officially because their services were no longer needed due to the restructuring of the program, but also—unofficially—because of their affiliation with the SPD.
The first NSDAP minister thus squeezed out progressive views from the TU. Focusing on issues where bourgeois and Nazi ideologies were aligned, he faced little resistance from bourgeois politicians or from professors, who saw his initiatives primarily as reversals of the previous minister’s political overreach. The new, more conservative appointments fitted better with the professoriate.
During the first year of the coalition government, changes were largely in the spirit of reversing perceived excesses of the SPD government. Yet, this would change when Minister Franzen resigned in the summer of 1931 over a party-internal conflict and was replaced by Dietrich Klagges,Footnote 56 an ambitious, ideologically driven politician. He quickly made his mark by enabling major National Socialist events, notably the Harzburger Front and the 100,000-man SA parades in October 1931.Footnote 57 From the outset, he treated the TU as a key battleground in his fight with the bourgeois elites.
The NSDStB Challenges the Existing Order
The National Socialist Student Association (NSDStB) built support among students through its aggressive posture vis-à-vis established hierarchies. In 1927 and again in 1929, the senate of the TU Brunswick rejected its recognition as a student organization at the TU because its draft bylaws placed the “The leadership of the ssociation … in the hands of the national leader (Reichsführer) appointed by Adolf Hitler, who in turn appoints or dismisses the university group leaders.”Footnote 58 This rule stood in direct conflict with the professed party-political neutrality of the TU.Footnote 59 The NSDStB reapplied with the controversial passage changed to “The board is elected by the members and requires confirmation by the national leadership of the NSDStB.”Footnote 60 The senate amended this passage to read “The board is elected by the members,” deleted mentions of Adolf Hitler, and, in that form, approved the bylaws.Footnote 61 In practice, however, the NSDStB acted along its originally submitted bylaws.
The NSDStB achieved a breakthrough in 1930 by organizing aggressive protests against the award of an honorary doctorate to Carl Severing (SPD), German minister of the interior, who was unpopular among both bourgeois and National Socialist students. The leadership of these protests earned the NSDStB respect beyond its core supporters. In student council elections, the NSDStB won 47% of the votes in January 1931, up from 26% in 1930 and 13% in 1929.Footnote 62
The senate reacted to the disruptions caused by the NSDStB by laying down clearer rules for political activity on campus, following guidelines of the Association of University Presidents. Thus, party uniforms were banned on campus, specifically at official functions, starting with the celebrations of the sixtieth anniversary of the German Empire in January 1931. The NSDStB reacted by calling for a boycott of the event, but they did not convince the majority of the student council.Footnote 63 So far, the rules-based approach by the senate could contain the conflict.
A Minor Incident Triggers a Major Conflict
The next attack by the NSDStB escalated from a minor incident in November 1931. Their leader, Axel Schaffeld, challenged a Bulgarian student, Christo Stojanov, in a student dormitory, accusing him of having insulted a female student. When they continued arguing on the street, Stojanov supposedly used an insulting expression towards Schaffeld. The student council promptly demanded that the university expel Stojanov. The senate emphasized due process and thus created an investigative committee led by former president Mühlenpfordt. The committee found no proof of the allegation, and a legal opinion by a chief justice supported this conclusion.Footnote 64 The student was given a reprimand.
The NSDStB then turned its attacks on Mühlenpfordt, alleging a lack of action to protect what they called the “German honor.” They received support from the leading local bourgeois newspaper, Braunschweigische Landeszeitung, which had turned its editorial line to support the National Socialists.Footnote 65 As TU president, Mühlenpfordt had advocated nationalist values, and was hence an unlikely target for such attacks. Yet, his insistence on due process conflicted with the Nazi ideology, where loyalty to the leader took precedence over the rule of law. The conflict was about power, not about values.
Minister Klagges (NSDAP) encouraged the NSDStB, and at this stage became publicly involved. When the Nazi-led student council organized a university strike, Minister Klagges formally met with NSDStB students and instructed the police to expel Stojanov from the state.Footnote 66 He also requested a new investigation by the TU with new witnesses. Under this pressure, the senate gave in. The new committee recommended expulsion of Stojanov, which the university council, unanimously with one abstention, approved.Footnote 67 Even if the insults had been spoken (which is not clear from the conflicting witness statements), this was a harsh penalty imposed on an ethnic minority student.
However, Stojanov was not the real target; the objective of the NSDStB was to undermine the credibility of the TU leadership. Edgar Gille, an NSDStB leader, published a polemic essay in the NS media and led a hate campaign against Mühlenpfordt with fake news, declaring that he would fight the professors by all means:
We demand of a professor who wishes to be our leader not only professional competence and fairness, but also a profound awareness of the German identity… In the Third Reich, there will be no place for professors who lightly overlook insults directed at our people.Footnote 68
TU leaders tried to contain the conflict by establishing guardrails for what was and was not acceptable student behavior on campus. On Empire Day in January 1932, the keynote address by TU President Schmitz reiterated his views on academic freedom and the responsibilities that arise from it.Footnote 69 NSDStB students responded by challenging the legitimacy of the president’s actions in a polemical open letter. They accused Schmitz of violating their agreement by publicly mentioning the conflict with the students and, again, agitated against the senate’s handling of the Schaffeld-Stojanov affair.Footnote 70
Faced with an escalating conflict, the senate discussed disciplinary measures against Edward Gille and the three authors of the open letter, recommending their expulsion.Footnote 71 On January 29, the university council approved Gille’s expulsion by seventeen to fifteen votes—a close decision compared to the unanimous vote only two weeks earlier to expel the Bulgarian studenton much flimsier grounds. The other three students received only formal warnings.Footnote 72 However, as their misdeeds were driven by an ideological movement, dismissing individual actors could not change the course of the conflict. The senate continued to formalize rules and enforce them through due process procedures. However, under pressure from the minister of education, the impartiality of the procedures was compromised.
“Professor Hitler”
The conflict at the TU became a national concern when the NSDAP sought a professorship for their leader, Adolf Hitler. The purpose was for him to attain German citizenship, which he needed to be able to stand in the election for the president of the country (Reichspräsident) scheduled for March 1932.Footnote 73 National NSDAP leaders were plotting with Minister Klagges on how best to arrange citizenship for Hitler.Footnote 74 At that time, Brunswick was the only state where the NSDAP was part of the government, as a similar coalition in Thuringia had collapsed in April 1931. Thus, Hitler looked to his party in Brunswick to arrange a pathway for him to attain German citizenship. He focused on a rule in the citizenship law that automatically gave senior civil servants, including professors, citizenship upon appointment.
Nationalsocialist media opened the fight on January 28 by announcing Hitler’s forthcoming appointment as a professor at the TU Brunswick. The announcement increased the pressure on the TU leadership and on local politicians. Despite the public announcement, no discussions had taken place in the committees of the TU or between the TU and the minister of education.Footnote 75 Yet, the rumors quickly triggered opposition. Many professors objected to the idea, not only because Minister Klagges interfered in the university’s autonomy and the due process for scholarly appointments, but also because Hitler lacked academic qualifications.Footnote 76
At the University of Marburg, professors publicly took sides on February 4 with a call for the re-election of incumbent Reichspräsident von Hindenburg, rather than his challenger, Hitler:
… The German university has sometimes been the conscience of the nation in fateful times. True to these professions, we university teachers demand that the popular election of Hindenburg be carried out beyond all party boundaries and disputes as a generous act of gratitude, trust, and love. Then, we are certain, Hindenburg’s name will stand above the entrance gate to German freedom.Footnote 77
By taking a stand, even if phrased indirectly, this declaration departed from the strict political neutrality that most universities had imposed on themselves.
TU Brunswick President Otto Schmitz positioned himself early by publicly supporting the Sahm Ausschuß, a nationwide committee advocating for Hindenburg’s re-election. His name appeared as a signatory of the committee’s call on page 1 of the Vossische Zeitung.Footnote 78 Schmitz had an extensive professional network in Russia and would thus have been more aware than his peers of the international implications of the rise of the NSDAP.Footnote 79 At a meeting to discuss the Marburg declaration, twenty-four of the forty full professors signed an identical statement.Footnote 80 Schmitz also communicated the TU’s objection to Hitler’s professorship directly to Prime Minister Küchenthal (DNVP), bypassing Minister Klagges (NSDAP), and to DVP leader Heinrich Wessel, a recent honorary doctor of the TU.Footnote 81 Thus, Schmitz proactively reached out to potential allies by letting his and the professoriate’s concerns be known both to the public and to key political decision-makers in the state government and the parliament.
Aware of the resistance, Minister Klagges tried to bypass the TU. University law allowed him to appoint a professor without the normal academic assessment process in cases of newly created professorships. Using this rule, Klagges used funds from a vacant professorship to create a new professorship denominated “Organic Society Studies and Politics.” Without discussing the matter with his coalition partners or the TU, he prepared and signed a formal employment contract, while leaking news of the imminent appointment to the media.Footnote 82 However, the prime minister refused to countersign the document.
In the TU, this bypassing of the established procedures increased anxieties. On condition of anonymity, a professor shared his views with a journalist:
Our future colleague Hitler—if it should come to that at all—will have to do without our votes in the Presidential election. Nor do we believe that anyone has actually entertained the thought of nominating him. What are we to do with Hitler? We can only use skilled workers here. But we do not believe in the appointment. Nor have we been informed of anything; when the TU President called the minister in response to the report, all information was refused. But what kind of situation is it that not even the president of a university is at least informed when a vacant teaching post is to be filled?Footnote 83
However, Schmitz did not have unanimous support among his peers for his proactive approach. In a letter to the chair of the German University Association (Verband der Deutschen Hochschulen), he acknowledged “there is a strong tendency among colleagues to pass the whole affair with silence and consider it a political matter of no concern to the TU.”Footnote 84 As was also evident in the vote in the university council on Gille’s expulsion two weeks earlier, many professors interpreted political neutrality also as an obligation not to take a stand (publicly) against obviously illegitimate activities of the National Socialist minister.
In Berlin, rumors persisted that Hitler would become a professor in Brunswick, with an inaugural speech planned for February 25.Footnote 85 Even the New York Times reported these rumors.Footnote 86 Bourgeois politicians supported the TU, arguing that Hitler did not meet the formal requirements and that his presence would likely trigger major conflicts among the students. Also, the needs of the social science department had been met with the recent appointments of professors in politics and sociology. As the position of the TU was publicly known, and professors had close ties with both DVP and DNVP, Bourgeois Unity List politicians had the courage to resist the demands of the Nazis.
However, this was not the end of the story. Faced with opposition from the TU, the coalition parties agreed to create a position for Hitler at the Berlin office of the Brunswick government. They approved the appointment after receiving Klagges’ assurance that Hitler would work in that position, so that it could not be construed as a sham contract. With citizenship secured just in time for the election, Hitler could stand in the 1932 election for German president, which became a major step in his political ascent that would eventually carry him to the office of hancellor in January 1933.
The TU now had to deal with the fallout. Minister Klagges formally rebuked TU President Schmitz for talking directly to the prime minister, rather than following the formal channel of communicating via the Ministry of Education. In support of Schmitz, the senate argued that “it was an exceptional and urgent business of the university … given the urgency of the matter, the telephone call to the Prime Minister was necessary and in line with previous official dealings with the government.”Footnote 87
Schmitz’s pursuit of university autonomy continued to annoy the minister. Schmitz had not only foiled the appointment of Hitler as a professor but also leaked Klagges’ plans to appoint Ernst Krieck, a Nazi ideologist, to a vacant professorship in pedagogy.Footnote 88 In May 1932, Klagges initiated a disciplinary procedure and suspended Schmitz from his professoriate. An incident in the previous summer provided Minister Klagges with a welcome pretext to penalize Schmitz for undermining his strategy of placing National Socialists in the university.Footnote 89 After a closed-door hearing of the disciplinary tribunal (Dienststrafkammer), Schmitz was dismissed from the TU in November.Footnote 90 This outcome sent a strong signal to everyone considering speaking up against the minister’s interventions in the university.
Fresh Faces, Fresh Attacks
In the spring of 1932, the professors elected a new president, Professor of Botany Gustav Gassner, a member of the DNVP.Footnote 91 The senate consisted of the president, the vice president, and seven deans elected in their respective departments. The social science department elected the DNVP politician and professor of history, Ernst August Roloff, as their dean.Footnote 92 Of the new senators, five did not sign the petition for Hindenburg in February, indicating a shift to the right. After the open confrontations with the government in the preceding months, it was hoped that Gassner and the new leadership team would improve their relationships with the government. However, the Nazis had no interest in improving the relationship.
The new leadership team took office on August 1, as Germany woke to the news of a landslide win for the NSDAP in the Reichstag elections. With 37% of the votes, they had become the largest party, their best result ever. Overnight, violence across Germany left fifteen people dead, including the leader of the NSDStB in Brunswick, Axel Schaffeld. He was killed in unclear circumstances after a troop of the SA, a Nazi paramilitary organization, had at 4:00 am “arrested” a group of workers.Footnote 93 The NSDStB blamed the incident on “communists.”
The NSDStB styled their dead leader as a martyr and exploited his death in their next round of attacks on the university. They requested permission to raise their swastika flag on university buildings in his memory, but only a flag on the student dormitory was approved.Footnote 94 Next, they demanded that the Sunday of the Dead (Totensonntag, a Lutheran public holiday in November) be dedicated to their deceased leader, and that the dormitory be renamed in his honor. The senate persisted with the rules it had established and confirmed the ban on party uniforms.Footnote 95 The renaming celebration at the dormitory was approved on condition that it was purely a student event without party symbols and external participants.Footnote 96 However, Minister Klagges intervened to void the ban on party flags and symbols.
Despite the senate’s strict interpretation of the rules, students in SA uniforms became a common sight; they even conducted paramilitary maneuvers on TU premises.Footnote 97 On November 9, the NSDStB laid a wreath at the war memorial to commemorate Hitler’s failed putsch in Munich in 1923. Rules of the TU required that any wreath should be approved by the administration. Thus, President Gassner promptly requested its removal.Footnote 98 The NSDStB escalated the conflict by attacking Gassner in Nazi media and in the Braunschweigische Landeszeitung for his alleged lack of national spirit.Footnote 99
Minister Klagges and President Gassner met to discuss their differences but failed to compromise. Klagges then ordered that the “NSDStB, Brunswick branch, with their flags, emblems and other insignia, in particular their special clothing, are permitted to attend … official celebrations of the university.”Footnote 100 Thus, the rules issued by the ministry stood in direct conflict with the rules of the TU (which in turn were aligned with the Association of University Presidents). In its meeting on November 18, the senate initiated disciplinary procedures against three leaders of the NSDStB based on their role in the conflict.Footnote 101 Nevertheless, the NSDStB escalated the tension by defying university rules and showing up in party uniforms for the Sunday of the Dead memorial on November 20.
The persistent aggression and the disrespect for internal rules tested the patience of the professors. The next day, the senate responded to the renewed provocations by banning the NSDStB at the TU and prohibiting students from participating in its activities. This severe measure was deemed necessary because “the existence of the association jeopardizes the discipline of the university and the behavior of its members has given rise to disciplinary action against them.”Footnote 102 Yet, the minister had his spies in the TU and acted immediately. The usually dull minutes of the senate recorded the drama that unfolded:
During the further deliberations, an urgent personal call is received from the Brunswick Minister of Education. He forbids the university president from implementing the resolution that has just been passed and from posting the announcement on the notice board. The university president informs the senate of the further content of the conversation with the minister. The announcement is then withdrawn and the messengers who were about to leave the university with the prohibition order are stopped at the last moment.Footnote 103
Klagges also blocked disciplinary procedures against NSDStB students, notwithstanding that disciplinary matters were the sole responsibility of the TU.Footnote 104 However, Gassner invoked his domiciliary rights over university premises to ban the three students from entering the TU buildings while the disciplinary action was pending.Footnote 105
The essence of the conflict concerned university autonomy and the authority of the TU to set rules for professional conduct within its premises. Senators supported Gassner’s fight for the autonomy of the TU and declared that in case of disciplinary action against Gassner, they would all resign from their offices.Footnote 106 While they shared nationalistic views with the students, they were appalled by the aggressive disruptions to university life.
However, not everyone in the TU supported the senate. Several junior faculty members were attracted not only by the NSDAP’s national awakening message but also by their challenges to academic hierarchies.Footnote 107 While full professors enjoyed high status and respectable salaries, junior academics had little influence and often faced precarious economic conditions, which made them receptive to Nazi propaganda.Footnote 108 The Institute of Pharmacology became a hotbed of Nazi activity after Professor Paul Horrmann joined the NSDAP in July 1932. Some junior academics even wore their SA uniform at work and placed a swastika flag in the institute. Gassner demanded the removal of the flag to protect the political neutrality of the TU, but Horrmann refused.Footnote 109
Faced with escalating aggressions from Nazis at multiple levels, Gassner sought allies outside the state. A letter explaining the events to the Association of University Presidents was leaked and reprinted in full by the Berlin-based Vossische Zeitung:
The decrees passed in recent days by the Minister of Education in agreement with the National Socialist Student Association have created a state of complete indiscipline at the university. All the decrees of the president and senate in recent weeks to maintain order have been revoked by the minister at the instigation of the National Socialist Student Association, in some cases even before they came into force, as a result of a well-organized student monitoring service over the university authorities …Footnote 110
The series of conflicts, he argued, necessitated the banning of the NSDStB:
For years, the NSDStB violated the statutes approved by the university. It had members who were not students and had them confirmed, it made false statements to the president, its members tried to undermine university discipline at every opportunity by negotiating with the minister, and by publishing press releases against the TU in newspapers. Each of these reasons obliges the university authorities to dissolve the NSDStB …Footnote 111
Minister Klagges responded by blaming the conflict on the leaders of the TU trying to “depoliticize” the TU.Footnote 112 He questioned the legitimacy of the “apolitical space” paradigm of the TU and of many other universities in Germany.
He then took the debate to the next level by disputing that the TU was a university in the sense of German law, arguing that it did not enjoy the privileges of academic freedom guaranteed in the constitution. This assertion challenged the basic principles of university governance. The relevant state law of 1920, revised in 1928, clearly defined the TU as a self-governing institution, providing only general oversight rights to the minister.Footnote 113 Yet, by questioning the legal status—and without a swift ruling from the courts—the minister created a legal ambiguity that he then exploited to his advantage. Thus, the interpretation of the university law became a major dispute between different nationalist actors. Prime Minister Küchenthal (DNVP) agreed with Klagges (NSDAP), whereas the leader of the bourgeois group in parliament, Roloff (DNVP), wrote a long legal explanation agreeing with Gassner (DNVP). A resolution of the student assembly supported the professors’ fight for university autonomy.Footnote 114 Klagges’ tactic here was to re-interpret established rules differently from established legal practice, thereby creating ambiguity and confusion. The legal system was far too slow for these challenges to be tested in a court of law.
However, the senate still had allies in the Association of University Presidents. Many other university leaders faced similar, if less public, conflicts with National Socialists. At an emergency meeting, they agreed on a letter to Reichspräsident von Hindenburg, requesting that he protect academic values and prevent political parties from undermining the universities.Footnote 115 Unanimously, they “categorically reject the introduction of party politics into the universities,” and express “their gratitude to the president and senate of the TU of Brunswick for their manly stand (das mannhafte Eintreten) against the encroachments of the Brunswick Minister of Education on academic freedom and on academic self-government.”Footnote 116 In response, Klagges reiterated that the TU was solely a matter for the Brunswick state government, whereas the university president’s declaration was an “interference of an irresponsible and unsound association into internal Brunswick affairs.”Footnote 117
Expectations of support from the TU’s allies in parliament were disappointed. The bourgeois coalition partners of Minister Klagges thanked university leaders “for having manfully rejected attempts which amount to the politicization of the TU and an inadmissible restriction of the right of self-administration.”Footnote 118 However, they were under pressure themselves as election results elsewhere suggested that a dissolution of parliament and an early election would likely result in the bourgeois parties losing further seats. Ahead of the critical debate in parliament, Minister Klagges tactically retreated, declaring that all he wanted was equal treatment of the NSDStB as a student association. He even acknowledged the TU’s authority concerning student discipline.Footnote 119 However, the bourgeois parties were already too weak to mount an effective resistance to the NSDAP. Thus, they rejected a resolution condemning the minister’s actions and compromised in a resolution supporting university autonomy while voiding recent edicts by both Klagges and Gassner:
Parliament … requests the government to take the necessary steps and at the same time to ensure, by enacting a clear legal basis, that a steady and calm development of the TU, undisturbed by any party-political influences, is guaranteed.Footnote 120
The clash between Gassner and Klagges was not driven by political ideologies but by the Nazis’ quest for absolute power, including control over scholarly life within universities. Gassner, like most of the professoriate and local DVP and DNVP leaders, aspired to a nationalist vision of economic revival grounded in traditional bourgeois values, with scientific and technological advances led by the established elites. To enable universities to pursue this ideal, politicians ought to stay out of universities. In contrast, the priority of Klagges and his party was loyalty to their leader, Adolf Hitler. They defined nationalist awakening in physical and military terms, and in opposition to intellectuals and traditional hierarchies. Neither of them had much sympathy for the republican values embedded in the Weimar Constitution.
Postscript: “Gleichschaltung”
After the appointment of Adolf Hitler as Chancellor in January 1933 and a highly manipulated election in March, the political dynamics changed abruptly. Gustav Gassner and others who had challenged Klagges’ overreach faced personal attacks in the now NS-controlled local media.Footnote 121 The senate reiterated its support for Gassner.Footnote 122 Concerned about his safety, Gassner hid, presumably, in the offices of the veterans’ organization Stahlhelm, then left Brunswick, and announced his resignation. Upon his return, he was arrested at the train station, dismissed as TU president, and suspended from his professorship.Footnote 123
Political alignment (Gleichschaltung) now became the guiding principle for all public institutions: leaders were appointed top down, not elected, and political loyalty became more important than qualifications and subject matter expertise. Following the resignation of the entire senate,Footnote 124 Minister Klagges appointed a new senate with only professors willing to align themselves with the Nazi ideology.Footnote 125 On April 30, Paul Horrmann, the only early NSDAP member among the professors, was inducted as TU president by Minister Klagges in a grand ceremony on the steps of the main building. The student council showed up in SA uniforms. Horrmann declared the loyalty of the TU to the new order, and Klagges explained the role of scholars within the NS state:
In the future, even scientific merit and scientific ability will no longer be a licence for “political pests” … [we will not tolerate] any scientist using the status of his position … to disparage German character. As Germans, we demand that in his position he stands up for the honor, the reputation, and the high development of the German spirit and German life.Footnote 126
People who stood up to the Nazis before 1933 now faced substantive career setbacks.Footnote 127 From 1930 to 1932, politics was still contested, and it was not obvious that taking a stand would endanger one’s career and even one’s life. However, after January 1933, the Nazis persecuted their opponents, not only communists, social democrats, and Jewish citizens, but also traditional nationalists such as Gustav Gassner, who stood up for the rights and integrity of traditional institutions.Footnote 128
Soon, universities fell in line with the new regime.Footnote 129 This process was facilitated by the combination of prevalent nationalistic values and a commitment to party-political neutrality. At the TU Brunswick, several professors joined the NSDAP during those days of rapid change.Footnote 130 Over the next four years, twenty-five of the ninety-eight professors at the TU Brunswick were dismissed for political or racial reasons; many went into exile. Gustav Gassner, for example, went to Ankara in Turkey. Many academics of Jewish ancestry were dismissed, starting in 1933 with Friedrich Meyenberg, professor for operations and business studies, and Eugen Lederer, associate professor of chemistry. The share of professors dismissed was slightly higher in Brunswick than in other German universities because of a larger number of faculty members deemed “politically unreliable” by the state government.Footnote 131
Escalation of Conflict as Deliberate Strategy
The case of the TU Brunswick illustrates how the National Socialists strategically used conflicts to challenge the traditional elites in pre-1933 Germany. Historians such as Herrmann Beck emphasized the pivotal role of temporary alliances, yet deep antagonism of the NSDAP towards traditional bourgeois values and hierarchies based on their anti-elitist and anti-intellectual culture.Footnote 132 The evolution of this tenuous relationship is important in explaining the rising support for the NSDAP.
In Brunswick, the conflicted relationship developed over a longer time than elsewhere because, from September 1930, the NSDAP controlled the Ministries of Education and Interior. In this context, the Nazis attempted to appoint Hitler as a professor, but the university could mobilize allies to prevent an unlawful action of the minister. However, it also illustrates that without powerful allies and with contested governance structures, the TU Brunswick, like other German universities, was vulnerable to the persistent attacks by the Nazis. The case shows how persistent attacks with a variety of tactics intimidated opponents and undermined trust in the established order and its governance structures.
The rise of the NSDAP was initially opposed by those representing traditional values, such as the professoriate at the TU Brunswick. However, the front against the National Socialists crumbled once the NSDAP attained positions of power. Initially, the first NSDAP minister, Anton Franzen, focused on issues where the NSDAP was aligned with conservatives, such as reversing SPD-led reforms in the teacher education program. Building a working relationship lowered the guard of traditional elites. At that time, ideologies were still contested; different views on how to achieve national revival co-existed. Coordinated actions could create political momentum, for example, in the citizenship affair when the TU could leverage its allies among local politicians and the national media. Arguably, bourgeois activism in February 1932 helped obstruct Hitler’s appointment as a professor.
However, the paradigm of universities as apolitical spaces, which was inherent in the bourgeois value system, also prevented the professoriate from effectively resisting political infiltration of the university by the NSDStB. The tension between different groups on the right side of the political spectrum increased with the spread of the NSDAP throughout society after the election of July 1932. By the end of that year, speaking out against the Nazis could put one’s career at risk, as was evident in the case of Gustav Gassner and other members of the senate.
Nazi supporters fought not on the merit of their ideas, but through misinformation and intimidation by their paramilitaries. Their aim was not only to attain power but to destroy alternative ideologies, along with organizations and people representing them. To this end, individuals such as Minister Dietrich Klagges or NSDStB leader Axel Schaffeld were deliberately seeking and escalating conflicts, rather than working to resolve conflicts. Why would they do that? Part of the answer may be that practices of “moral grandstanding” are associated with status-seeking behaviors within and beyond organizations.Footnote 133 However, in radical politics, motivations are likely at a higher level. They include “stigmatization” of organizations representing alternative views, laying the foundations for their eventual ban.Footnote 134 The motivations of conflict-seekers require further research. Indicative evidence from this study suggests that conflict-seeking aimed to destroy existing social structures and annihilate opponents in the expectation that, in the emergent “lawless” setting, those with most moral ruthlessness and physical sources of power would be able to create new hierarchies with themselves at the top.
The persistent, aggressive, and varying tactics left opponents of the NSDAP struggling to organize counterstrategies. In most conflicts, the Nazis prevailed as the ruthless pursuit of power proved stronger than principled adherence to institutionalized rules. In the case of Hitler’s citizenship, TU leaders could mobilize allies among bourgeois politicians to prevent the professorship. The politicians made a “deal” with the Nazis to provide Hitler with the coveted German citizenship. However, the expectations that this “deal” would resolve the conflict and end the vicious attacks by the Nazis proved naïve. Nazis only respected agreements as long as they did not have the power to renege on them. By the summer of 1932, some bourgeois actors in Brunswick realized this, both in parliament and in the TU. However, as the political power of the bourgeois parties waned over the year 1932, in Brunswick and elsewhere, the TU’s allies in parliament were on the defensive and, arguably, paralyzed by a fear of fresh elections.
The National Socialists thrived on weakly enforced rules that gave advantages to the most aggressive actors. Often, they created ambiguity by questioning the legitimacy of established practices. In societies with a broad social consensus, a shared understanding of norms may be sufficient and more effective (i.e., less bureaucratic) than formal rules and procedures. Yet, such norms are insufficient when populist actors are willing to abuse their positions for political gains. Many individuals may choose conflict-avoiding behaviors to protect their short-term personal interests. Indeed, management scholars point to political ties and corporate social responsibility as the best ways to deal with populists in governmental roles.Footnote 135 The historical experience suggests that such an approach is futile unless the populism is short-lived. Rather, this study points to the importance of solid governance structures that prevent direct interference by political actors and of clear, enforced codes of conduct with respect to, for example, hate speech, xenophobia, and calls for violence.
Acknowledgements
I thank the editors, two anonymous reviewers, Stephanie Decker (Birmingham, UK), Christopher Friedrichs (Vancover, BC, CA), Eli Nathans (London, ON, CA) and seminar participants at Copenhagen Business School, Ivey Business School, University of Reading and Western University, as well as at the Academy of Management for their helpful feedback. Colleagues at the State Niedersächsisches Landesarchiv Wolfenbüttel branch, Stadtarchiv Braunschweig, Universitätsarchiv Braunschweig, and the Institute for Regional History at the TU Brunswick helped locate materials; colleagues at the University of Regensburg helped retrieve German-language literature.
Competing interests
The author declares none.
Funding statement
The author acknowledges support from the J. Allyn Taylor/Arthur H. Mingay Chair, Ivey Business School.
Klaus E. Meyer is a professor of international business at Ivey Business School, London, Canada. His research focuses on the strategies and operations of multinational enterprises in and from emerging economies. His historical work focuses on social and political change in Weimar Germany. His recent books include (with Mike Peng) International Business, 5th edition (Cengage Learning, 2027).
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