An Access Advertising EconBrief:
How Can the Framework of Economics Help Us Assign Responsibility for War Crimes in World War II?
The previous EconBrief explains how the classical theory of voluntary exchange and the moral concept of individual responsibility mutually reinforce each other. The mutually beneficial character of voluntary exchange allows individuals to assume responsibility for their own actions in a free society. Individual responsibility permits voluntary exchange to function without the necessity of, say, review of each transaction by a neutral third party to insure fairness. The role of government in a voluntary society is minimal – to enforce contracts and prevent coercion.
Recently, the issue of responsibility for war crimes committed during World War II has been raised by various independent events. In Germany, a 93-year-old man is standing trial as an accessory to war crimes committed while he worked at the Auschwitz concentration camp during World War II. His presence in the camp is known, but his actual role and behavior is disputed. Should the prosecution have to prove he actually committed crimes, or would his participation as (say) a guard be enough to warrant his conviction as a war criminal?
A recent column in The Wall Street Journal by Bret Stephens (“From Buchenwald to Europe,” 05/05/2015) observes that many people in Germany were victims of Nazism, not Nazis – including many non-Jews. How should this affect Germany’s national policies today on European union, immigration and attitude toward systematic anti-Semitism and misogyny practiced by Muslim immigrants? “It isn’t easy, or ultimately wise, [for Germany] to live life in a state of perpetual atonement,” Mr. Stephens thinks.
Japan’s Prime Minister Shinzo Abe has publicly marveled about the transformation in relations between Japan and America, two countries who became deadly rivals in the late 1930s and waged total war in the 1940s, culminating in mankind’s only nuclear attack. Today we are two of the planet’s closest trading partners. Abe clearly wants to enlist the cooperation of the U.S. in Japan’s efforts to re-arm against the imminent threat of mainland’s China’s sabre-rattling territorial ambitions. But Abe has also made disturbing noises in domestic politics, worshipping at the shrine of Japan’s war dead and speaking equivocally about Japan’s aggressive invasion of its Asian neighbors in the 1930s. These speeches are a rough Japanese analogue to holocaust-denial.
In deciding what to make of these events, our analytical anchor is once again the economic logic of individual responsibility arising in a context of voluntary exchange.
The Flawed Notion of National Responsibility for War Crimes
In his Wall Street Journal piece, Bret Stephens depicts “the drama of postwar Germany” as its “effort to bury the Nazi corpse,” which “haunts Germany at every turn.” This phrasing is troubling. It implies that Germany’s residents bear a collective burden for sins committed long before most of them were even born.
Not surprisingly, this burden hasn’t just been heavy – it has been unshakeable. “Should Germany’s wartime sins be expiated by subsidizing the spendthrift habits of corrupt Greek governments? Should fear of being accused of xenophobia require Germans to turn a blind eye to Jew-hatred and violent misogyny when the source if Germany’s Muslim minority?” These questions, posed rhetorically by Mr. Stephens, should be placed in the pantheon of pointlessness with queries about the angel-carrying capacity of pinheads.
Even before World War II ended, many people realized that the Axis powers would have to be called to account for their sins. Members of the German and Japanese governments and military had committed acts that mined new depths of depravity. Civilization had institutions and standards for judging and punishing the familiar forms of crime, but the scope and magnitude of Axis atrocities persuaded the Allies to hold separate war-crimes tribunals for Germany and Japan. And the defendants at every trial were individual human beings, not collective entities called “Germany” or “Japan.”
To be sure, there were arguments – some of them almost as bitter as the fighting that preceded the trials – about which individuals should be tried. At least some of the disagreement probably reflected disappointment that the most deserving defendants (Hitler, Goering et al) had cheated the hangman by committing suicide beforehand. But nobody ever entertained the possibility of putting either nation on trial. In the first place, it would have been a practical impossibility. And without an actual trial, the proceedings would have been a travesty of justice. Even beyond that, though, the greater travesty would have been to suggest that the entirety of either nation had been at fault for acts such as the murder of millions of Jews by the Nazis.
We need look no farther than Stephens’ own article to substantiate this. He relates the story of his father-in-law, Hermann, who celebrated his 11th birthday on VE-Day, May 8th, 1945. He was the namesake of his father, a doctor who died in a German prison camp, where he was imprisoned for the crime of xenophilia, showing friendly feelings to foreign workers. Father Hermann apparently treated inhabitants of forced-labor camps and was indicating the likelihood of an ultimate Russian victory over Germany. Not only was he not committing atrocities, he was trying to compensate for their effects and got killed for his pains. Were we supposed to prosecute his 11-year old son? What madness that would have been! As Stephens put it, “what was a 10-ywar-old boy, whose father had died at Nazi hands, supposed to atone for?”
History tells us that Germany also harbored its own resistance movement, which worked behind the scenes to oppose Fascism in general and the war in particular. In fact, the Academy Award for Best Actor in 1943 went not to Humphrey Bogart, star of Best Picture winner Casablanca, but instead to Paul Lukas, who played a German who risked his life fighting the Nazis in the movie Watch On the Rhine. The Freiburg School of economists, a German free-market school of economists formed before the war, openly opposed Fascist economic policies even during World War II. Their prestige was such that the Nazis did not dare kill them, instead preferring to suppress their views and prevent their professional advancement. Then there were the sizable number of Germans who did not join the Nazi Party and were not politically active.
Hold every contemporary German criminally accountable for the actions of Hitler, Goebbels, Hess, Goering, Mengele and the rest? Unthinkable. In which case, how can we even contemplate asking today’s Germans, who had no part in the war crimes, weren’t even alive when they were committed and couldn’t have prevented them even if inclined to try, to “atone” for them?
The longer we think about the notion of contemporary national guilt for war crimes, the more we wonder how such a crazy idea ever wandered into our heads in the first place. Actually, we shouldn’t wonder too long about that. The notion of national, or collective, guilt came from the same source as most of the crazy ideas extant.
It came from the intellectual left wing.
The Origin of “Social Wholes”
There is no more painstaking and difficult pastime than tracing the intellectual pedigree of ideas. Apparently, the modern concept of the “social whole” or national collective seems traceable to the French philosopher, Claude Henri de Rouvroy, Comte de Saint Simon (hereinafter Saint-Simon). Saint-Simon is rightfully considered the father of Utopian Socialism. Born an aristocrat in 1760, he lived three lives – the first as a French soldier who fought for America in the Revolution, the second as a financial speculator who made and lost several fortunes, the third as an intellectual dilettante whose personal writings attracted the attention of young intellectuals and made him the focus of a cult.
Around age 40, Saint-Simon decided to focus his energies on intellectual pursuits. He was influenced by the intellectual ferment within France’s Ecole polytechnique, where the sciences of mathematics, chemistry, physics and physiology turned out distinguished specialists such as Lavoisier, Lagrange and Laplace. Unfortunately, Saint-Simon himself was able to appreciate genius but not to emulate it. Even worse, he was unable to grasp any distinction between the natural sciences and social sciences such as economics. In 1803, he wrote a pamphlet in which he proposed to attract funds by subscription for a “Council of Newton,” composed of twenty of the world’s most distinguished men of science, to be elected by the subscribers. They would be deemed “the representatives of God on earth,” thus displacing the Pope and other divinely ordained religious authorities, but with additional powers to direct the secular affairs of the world. According to Saint-Simon, these men deserved this authority because their competence in science would enable them to consciously order human affairs more satisfactorily than heretofore. Saint-Simon had received this plan in a revelation from God.
“All men will work; they will regard themselves as laborers attached to one workshop whose efforts will be directed to guide human intelligence according to my divine foresight [emphasis added]. The Supreme Council of Newton will direct their works… Anybody who does not obey their orders will be treated … as a quadruped.” Here we have the beginnings of the collective concept: all workers work for a single factory, under one central administration and one boss.
We can draw a direct line between this 1803 publication of Saint-Simon and the 20th century left-wing “Soviet of engineers” proposed by institutional economist Thorstein Veblen, the techno-socialism of J. K. Galbraith and the “keep the machines running” philosophy of Clarence Ayres. “Put government in the hands of technical specialists and give them absolute authority” has been the rallying cry of the progressive left wing since the 19th century.
Saint-Simon cultivated a salon of devotees who propagated his ideas after his death in 1825. These included most notably Auguste Comte, the founder of the “science” of sociology, which purports to aggregate all the sciences into one collective science of humanity. Comte inherited Saint-Simon’s disregard for individual liberty, referring contemptuously to “the anti-social dogma of the ‘liberty of individual conscience.'” It is no coincidence that socialism, which had its beginnings with Saint-Simon and his salon, eventually morphed into Nazism, which destroyed individual conscience so completely as to produce the Holocaust. That transformation from socialism to Nazism was described by Nobel laureate F. A. Hayek in The Road to Serfdom.
Today, the political left is committed to the concept of the collective. Its political constituencies are conceived in collective form: “blacks,” “women,” “labor,” “farmers,” “the poor.” Each of these blocs is represented by an attribute that blots out all trace of individuality: skin color, gender, economic class (or occupation), income. The collective concept implies automatic allegiance, unthinking solidarity. This is convenient for political purposes, since any pause for thought before voting might expose the uncomfortable truth that the left has no coherent policy program or set of ideas. The left traffics exclusively in generalities that attach themselves to social wholes like pilot fish to sharks: “the 1%,” the 99%,” “Wall St. vs. Main St.,” “people, not profit,” “the good of the country as a whole.” This is the parlor language of socialism. The left finds it vastly preferable to nitty-gritty discussion of the reality of socialism, which is so grim that it couldn’t even be broached on college campuses without first issuing trigger warnings to sensitive students.
The left-wing rhetoric of the collective has special relevance to the question of war crimes. Actual war crimes are committed by individual human beings. Human beings live discrete, finite lives. But a collective is not bound by such limitations. For example, consider the business concept of a corporation. Every single human being whose efforts comprise the workings of the corporation will eventually die, but the corporation itself is – in principle – eternal. Thus, it is a collective entity that corresponds to left-wing notions because it acts as if animated by a single will and purpose. And the left constantly laments the obvious fact that the U.S. does not and cannot act with this singular unanimity of purpose. For decades, left-wing intellectuals such as Arthur Schlesinger and John Kenneth Galbraith have looked back with nostalgia at World War II because the U.S. united around the single goal of winning the war and subordinated all other considerations to it.
The Rhetorical Convenience of Collective Guilt
Given its collective bent, we would expect to find the left in the forefront of the “collective guilt” school of thought on the issue of war crimes. And we do. For the left, “the country” is one single organic unity that never dies. When “it” makes a ghastly error, “it” bears the responsibility and guilt until “it” does something to expiate the sin. That explains why Americans have been figuratively horsewhipped for generations about the “national shame” and “original sin” of slavery. It is now 153 years after the Emancipation Proclamation and 150 years since the end of the Civil War, when a half-million Americans died to prevent slaveholding states from seceding from the Union. The U.S. Constitution was amended specifically to grant black Americans rights previously denied them following the Civil War. Yet “we” – that is, collective entity of “the country” on which left-wing logic rests – have not yet expunged this legacy of slavery from “our” moral rap sheet. Exactly how the slate should be wiped clean is never clearly outlined – if it were, then the left wing would lose its rhetorical half-Nelson on the public debate over race – but each succeeding generation must carry this burden on its shoulders in a race-reversed reprise of the song “Old Man River” from the play Showboat. “Tote that barge, lift that bale” refers in this case not to cotton but to the moral burden of being responsible for things that happened a century or more before our birth.
If this burden can be made heavy enough, it can motivate support for legislation like forced school busing, affirmative action and even racial reparations. Thus, the collective concept is a potentially powerful one. As Bret Stephens observes, it is now being pressed into service to prod Germany into bailing out Greeks, whose status as international deadbeats is proverbial. Exactly how were Greeks victimized by Germans? Were they somehow uniquely tyrannized by the Nazis – more so than, say, the Jews who later emigrated to Israel? No, Germany’s Nazism of seventy or eighty years ago is merely a handy pig bladder with which to beat today’s German over the head to extract blackmail money for the latest left-wing cause du jour. Since the money must come from the German government, German taxpayers must fork it over. A justification must be found for blackmailing German taxpayers. The concept of collective guilt is the ideal lever for separating Germans from their cash. Every single German is part of the collective; therefore, every single German is guilty. Voila!
The Falsity of Social Wholes
In The Counterrevolution of Science (1952), Nobel laureate F.A. Hayek meticulously traced the pedigree of social wholes back to their roots. He sketched the life and intellectual career of Saint Simon and his disciple Auguste Comte. Hayek then carefully exposed the fallacies behind the holistic method and explained why the unit of analysis in the social sciences must be the individual human being.
Holistic concepts like “the country” are abstract concepts that have no concrete referent because they are not part of the data of experience for any individual. Nobody ever interacts directly with “the country,” nor does “the country” ever interact directly with any other “country.” The only meaning possible for “the country” is the sum of all the individual human beings that comprise it, and the only possible theoretical validity for social wholes generally arises when they are legitimately constructed from their individual component parts. Indeed, Hayek views one role for social scientists as the application of this “compositive” method of partial aggregation as a means of deriving theories of human interaction.
The starting point, though, must be the individual – and theory can proceed only as far as individual plans and actions can be summed to produce valid aggregates. The left-wing historical modus operandi has reversed this procedure, beginning with one or more postulated wholes and deriving results, sometimes drawing conclusions about individual behavior but more often subsuming individuals completely within a faceless mass.
An example may serve to clarify the difference in the two approaches. The individualist approach, common to classical and neoclassical economics, is at home with the multifarious differences in gender, race, income, taste, preferences, culture and historical background that typify the human race. There is only one assumed common denominator among people – they act purposefully to achieve their ends. (For purposes of simplicity, those ends are termed “happiness.”)Then economic theory proceeds to show how the price system tends to coordinate the plans and behavior of people despite the innumerable differences that otherwise characterize them.
In contrast, the aggregative or holistic theory begins with certain arbitrarily chosen aggregates – such as “blacks.” It assumes that skin color is the defining characteristic of members of this aggregate; that is, skin color determines both the actions of the people within the aggregate and the actions of non-members toward those in the aggregate. The theory derived from this approach is correct if, and only if, this assumption holds. The equivalent logic holds true of other aggregates like “women,” “labor,”et al, with respect to the defining characteristic of each. Since this basic assumption is transparently false to the facts, holistic theories – beginning with Saint Simonian socialism, continuing with Marxism, syndicalism and the theories of Fourier, the Fabian socialists, Lenin, Sombart, Trotsky, and the various modern socialists and Keynesians – have had to make numerous ad hoc excuses for the “deviationism” practiced by some members of each aggregate and for the failure of each theory.
The Hans Lipschis Case
Is it proper in principle that Hans Lipschis, a former employee of Auschwitz and now ninety-three years old, be repatriated to Germany from the U.S. and tried as accessory in the murder of 300,000 inmates of the notorious World War II death camp? Yes. The postwar tribunals, notably at Nuremberg, reaffirmed the principle that “following orders” of duly constituted authority is not a license to aid and abet murder.
Lipschis’s defense is that he was a cook, not a camp guard. But a relatively new legal theory, used to convict another elderly war-crimes defendant, John Demjanjuk, is that the only purpose of camps like Auschwitz was to inflict death upon inmates. Thus, the defendant’s presence at the camp as an employee is sufficient to provide proof of guilt. Is this theory valid? No. A cook’s actions benefitted the inmates; a guard’s actions harmed them. If guards refused to serve, the camps could not have functioned. But if cooks refused to serve, the inmates would have died of starvation.
Verdicts such as that in the Demjanjuk case were undoubtedly born of the extreme frustration felt by prosecutors and men like Simon Wiesenthal and other Nazi hunters. It is almost beyond human endurance to have lived through World War II and then be forced to watch justice be cheated time after time after time. First the leading Nazis escaped or committed suicide. Then some of them were recruited to aid Western governments. Then some were sheltered by governments in South America and the Middle East. Over time, attrition eventually overtook figures such as Josef Mengele. Occasionally, an Adolf Eichmann was brought to justice – but even he had to be kidnapped by Israeli secret agents before he could be prosecuted. Now the job of legally proving actual criminal acts committed by minor functionaries fifty, sixty or seventy years after the fact becomes too difficult. So we cannot be surprised when desperate prosecutors substitute legal fancies for the ordinary rules of evidence.
Nevertheless, if the prosecution cannot prove that Lipschis committed actual crimes, then he must be acquitted. This has nothing to do with his age or the time lapse between the acts and the trial. Any other decision is a de facto application of the bogus principle of collective guilt.
Shinzo Abe and Guilt for Japanese Aggression in World War II
Japanese Prime Minister Abe is a classic politician. Like the Roman god Janus, he wears two faces, one when speaking abroad to foreign audiences and another when seeking reelection by domestic voters. His answers to questions about whether he was repudiating the stance taken by a previous Prime Minister in 1996 – that Japan was indeed guilty of aggression for which the Japanese government formally apologized – were delicately termed “equivocal” by the U.S. magazine U.S. News and World Report. That is a euphemism meaning that Abe was lying by indirection, a political tactic used by politicians the world over. He wanted his answer to be interpreted one way by Japanese voters without having to defend that interpretation to the foreign press.
Abe’s behavior was shameful. But that has absolutely nothing to do with the question of Japanese guilt for war crimes committed during and prior to World War II. That guilt was borne by specific individual Japanese and established by the Tokyo war-crimes tribunal. Indeed, one government spokesman eventually admitted this in just those words, albeit grudgingly, after Abe’s comments had attracted worldwide attention and criticism.
The implications of this are that Japanese today bear no “collective guilt” for the war crimes committed by previous Japanese. (It would be wrong to use the phrase “by their ancestors,” since presumably few Japanese today are related by blood to the war criminals of seventy or eighty years ago.) The mere coincidence of common nationality does not constitute common ancestry except in the broad cultural sense, which is meaningless when discussing moral guilt. Are we really supposed to believe, for example, that the surviving relatives of Jesse James or Billy the Kid should carry around a weighty burden of guilt for the crimes of their forebear? In a world where the lesson of the Hatfield’s and McCoy’s remains unlearned in certain precincts, this presumption seems too ridiculous for words.
Similarly, the fact that Japanese leaders in the 1920s, 30s and 40s were aggressively militaristic does not deny Japanese today the right to self-defense against a blatantly aggressive Chinese military establishment.
Much is made of Abe’s unwillingness to acknowledge the “comfort women” – women from Korea, China and other Asian nations who were held captive as prostitutes by Japanese troops. Expecting politicians to behave as historians is futile. If Japanese war criminals remain at large, apprehend and indict them. If new facts are unearthed about the comfort women or other elements of Japanese war crimes, publish them. But using these acts as a club against contemporary Japanese leaders is both wrong and counterproductive.
Besides, it’s not as if no other ammunition was available against Abe. He has followed Keynesian fiscal policies and monetary policies of quantitative easing since his accession to prime minister. These may not be crimes against humanity, but they are crimes against human reason.
Macro vs. Micro
Academic economics today is segregated between macroeconomics and microeconomics. The “national economy” is the supposed realm of macroeconomics, the study of economic aggregates. But as we have just shown, it is the logic of individual responsibility that actually bears on the issue of war crimes committed by the nations of Germany and Japan – because the crimes were committed by individuals, not by “nations.”
One of the most valuable lessons taught by classical economic theory is that the unit of analysis is the individual – in economics or moral philosophy.