rival the ‘big guns’ of the day, such as Great Britain. In all of these concerns
von Harnack realised that Germany’s prestige, power and survival was
umbilically connected to its science, and here he detected fatal flaws—especially so, as the growing tensions within Europe made many nations look to
their war machines. Soon, their distant rumble began to be heard across the
continent.
In its drive toward expansion, the German state was already overcommitted
with few spare resources to dedicate to its scientists and technologists on a
whim that a particular avenue might lead to a commercially viable development. It was not possible for expansion to be driven by the ‘Haber model’,
viz., a lone professor, the ‘gentleman scientist’, whose considerations of ‘reward’ were measured in terms of honour, service, patriotism, respect and
fame, but struggling to obtain funding for an important project in an institution inadequately equipped for their needs. Harnack therefore looked to
America and dreamed of a similar systemic approach to science in Germany
with ‘think tanks’ populated by the best brains in the country, with state of
the art equipment, effective channels of communication and strong links with
industry and commerce. Early in 1910, von Harnack had a private audience
with the Kaiser and delivered a speech much along these lines, in turn
pointing to the fabulously wealthy private American research institutions
established by Andrew Carnegie and John D. Rockefeller. These institutions
were able to tackle profound problems that lay beyond the grasp of individual
university departments, and Germany had nothing to rival them. Harnack
told the Emperor that the nation rose and fell along with its science, and that
he too should establish a series of elite private research establishments and—
appealing to the Kaiser’s vanity—call them ‘Kaiser Wilhelm Institutes’.
Wilhelm was smitten and adopted the idea completely—a position easily
rationalised by the fact that his institutes would be funded largely by the
altruism and patriotism of good Germans. But first find your ‘good Germans’,
and to this end a meeting was arranged in Berlin by the leaders of Germany’s
dominant State, Prussia, at Wilhelmstrasse 63, on 14 May 1910.
11
The Moghuls summoned there that day had their fortunes built on a
variety of industries such as steel, electrical equipment, chemicals and
banking. Amongst the gathered was the reclusive Leopold Koppel. Koppel
listened attentively to the presentation, one which asked these men to donate
a proportion of their fortunes for the good of the German nation. Koppel
soon saw an opportunity to curry favour with the establishment—always
close to the heart of the German Jew—whilst at the same time establishing an
entity that, through patents and licenses, would enhance his already powerful
business empire. Koppel’s financial interests lay in the establishment of an
206
D. Sheppard
von Harnack realised that Germany’s prestige, power and survival was
umbilically connected to its science, and here he detected fatal flaws—especially so, as the growing tensions within Europe made many nations look to
their war machines. Soon, their distant rumble began to be heard across the
continent.
In its drive toward expansion, the German state was already overcommitted
with few spare resources to dedicate to its scientists and technologists on a
whim that a particular avenue might lead to a commercially viable development. It was not possible for expansion to be driven by the ‘Haber model’,
viz., a lone professor, the ‘gentleman scientist’, whose considerations of ‘reward’ were measured in terms of honour, service, patriotism, respect and
fame, but struggling to obtain funding for an important project in an institution inadequately equipped for their needs. Harnack therefore looked to
America and dreamed of a similar systemic approach to science in Germany
with ‘think tanks’ populated by the best brains in the country, with state of
the art equipment, effective channels of communication and strong links with
industry and commerce. Early in 1910, von Harnack had a private audience
with the Kaiser and delivered a speech much along these lines, in turn
pointing to the fabulously wealthy private American research institutions
established by Andrew Carnegie and John D. Rockefeller. These institutions
were able to tackle profound problems that lay beyond the grasp of individual
university departments, and Germany had nothing to rival them. Harnack
told the Emperor that the nation rose and fell along with its science, and that
he too should establish a series of elite private research establishments and—
appealing to the Kaiser’s vanity—call them ‘Kaiser Wilhelm Institutes’.
Wilhelm was smitten and adopted the idea completely—a position easily
rationalised by the fact that his institutes would be funded largely by the
altruism and patriotism of good Germans. But first find your ‘good Germans’,
and to this end a meeting was arranged in Berlin by the leaders of Germany’s
dominant State, Prussia, at Wilhelmstrasse 63, on 14 May 1910.
11
The Moghuls summoned there that day had their fortunes built on a
variety of industries such as steel, electrical equipment, chemicals and
banking. Amongst the gathered was the reclusive Leopold Koppel. Koppel
listened attentively to the presentation, one which asked these men to donate
a proportion of their fortunes for the good of the German nation. Koppel
soon saw an opportunity to curry favour with the establishment—always
close to the heart of the German Jew—whilst at the same time establishing an
entity that, through patents and licenses, would enhance his already powerful
business empire. Koppel’s financial interests lay in the establishment of an
206
D. Sheppard