The Faustian Bargain: The Art World in Nazi Germany (review)

The Faustian Bargain: The Art World in Nazi Germany. By Jonathan Petropoulos (New York, Oxford University Press, 2000) 395 pp. $30.00.

This book describes life in the art world of Nazi Germany under the Third Reich. It is a surprising account for several reasons. The first is the intensity with which the Nazi leaders chased after art. It appears now that they stole or destroyed literally millions of objects. Even while their world was falling around their ears in the last days of the war, they continued to compete among each other for artistic plums as vigorously as did the robber barons of the late nineteenth century. One of Hitler's dreams was to open the largest museum in the world in Linz, Austria. Did this collecting mania derive from a Nazi political vision that included a strong element of cultural identity? Undoubtedly, at least in part. The Nazi leaders favored mainly old and new art that resonated with their notion of Aryan superiority. But their collecting frenzy also reflects a more general instinct of emulation, not unlike that of other major collectors in the past, from the Abbot of St. Denis to J. P. Morgan.

The second surprise is the behavior of the participants in the German art world. The thesis of this book is that they worked out a "Faustian bargain" to assist the Nazi leaders. Museum directors, dealers, historians, journalists, and artists all cooperated with varying degrees of enthusiasm in the Nazi art projects. The suggestion is that these denizens of the art world made their deals with the devil, holding their noses to advance their careers. But the book suggests instead that, for many, the bargain was not hypocrisy. The bargainers received both pleasure and profit at the same time. They joined enthusiastically, even joyfully, in the pillaging and cultural cleansing.

Petropoulos (Research Director for the Presidential Advisory Commission on Holocaust Assets in the United States) examines in detail the careers of twenty figures from all parts of the art world during the twelve years of the Third Reich and into the postwar years. Collectively, they were responsible for looting on a colossal scale, destruction and disposition of "degenerate" art, and re-direction of the work of contemporary artists to meet the needs of the political authorities. It becomes clear that there was no single rule and no single explanation for their actions and for their collaboration. A number of factors were in play: anti-Semitism, racial fervor, commitment to the Nazis' political agenda, personal advancement, and the excitement of association with men of power and violence. In most cases, they never admitted to wrongdoing after the war; they escaped punishment; and they even developed an informal network to defend themselves and, in some cases, to dispose of looted material still in their possession. Most were fully rehabilitated by the 1950s and resumed prominent positions in the same art world where the depredations had occurred.

There is no particular reason why artists and humanists should have ethical standards above those of the rest of society, even though we like to think that they do. It is chilling to learn of the widespread amorality that spread so quickly throughout so sophisticated a milieu in Europe. This study suggests that the humanities and the arts cannot be counted upon to remain a bastion of morality during times of great stress, and that artists and humanists will not necessarily be taken to account when their transgressions are known, and democracy and the rule of law have returned.

Craufurd D. Goodwin,
Duke University

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