Krupp: A History of the Legendary German Firm

The popular view of the history of Krupp – the German heavy industrial conglomerate – is still largely that expressed by Justice Robert Jackson in his indictment at the Nuremberg ‘Krupp Trial’ in 1947. ‘For over 130 years’, he said, ‘this family has been the focus, the symbol and the beneficiary of the most sinister forces engaged in menacing the peace of Europe.’ It’s a view that has proved remarkably durable, not least because Krupp’s closeness to the corridors of German power in the 19th and 20th centuries and its central role in producing armaments for Germany’s foreign adventures made it an archetype of the famed ‘military-industrial complex’.

Harold James’ book seeks to challenge that traditional view of the firm simply as an avaricious armourer. Drawing heavily on the records of the Krupp Archive, he paints a rather different view of the family firm, founded in 1811, which in less than a century would grow to become the largest company in Europe. He argues that Krupp, far from shackling itself indissolubly to the German state, was always a global player, producing primarily for export. Moreover the firm was not merely a producer of weapons, it was also famed for its development of weld-free, steel railway ‘tyres’ and even provided the stainless steel facings for the crown of New York’s iconic Chrysler Building.

According to James, Krupp also had a company ethos that saw beyond mere profitability and included a sense of social responsibility and a sincere paternal concern for the wellbeing of its workers. This latter principle was expressed in the construction of a bespoke garden suburb at Margeretenhöhe in Essen and in the policy of paying staff with shares during the economic collapse of the early 1920s.

Even the relationship to the Nazis, James argues, has been misconstrued. Far from eagerly embracing Hitler’s rise, Krupp – more than most German industrial concerns – sought initially to keep the Nazis at arm’s length. Once collaboration was inevitable they struggled to maintain as much operational independence as was possible and, James suggests, far from blatantly profiteering, were concerned that the capricious nature of many government commissions might prove to be financially crippling, due to the longer-term infrastructure costs that would be incurred.

James argues his case convincingly and he doubtless provides an important corrective to the traditionally damning and rather myopic view that history has of Krupp. His research and analysis are impeccable and his account is admirable in its clarity of expression, with thankfully few jargon-laden paragraphs beyond a tongue-twisting excursion into ‘polycratically (dis)organised monopsony’.

Yet somehow this fascinating history simply fails to come alive in James’ hands. Though he attempts to broaden his approach with occasional forays into the literary depictions of the Krupp family and firm it still comes across as rather lacklustre. As a consequence, this book – while excellent in its essentials – is rather too bland, too monotone, too lacking in human colour to sustain the interest of the generalist or casual reader. Sadly this ‘history of a legendary firm’ is less than entirely legendary in the telling.

Roger Moorhouse is author of Berlin at War: Life and Death in Hitler’s Capital 1939-1945 (Vintage, 2011).