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The real Dr Faustus?

A morally troubling figure – Fritz Haber, "the father of chemical warfare", is fortunate to find such an intellectually rigorous biographer in Daniel Charles

DURING the 16th century, a dark tale began circulating in Europe about an alchemist named Dr Faustus who had sold his soul in return for demonic knowledge. Some say the legend is based on Dr Johann Faust, a graduate of the University of Heidelberg who met a nasty end in the mid-1500s after a life devoted to the black arts. Others insist Faust is just an archetype representing the perils of overweening ambition.

Daniel Charles’s compelling biography of Fritz Haber raises the eerie possibility that the legend is some kind of prophecy, prefiguring this 20th-century chemist. The parallels are truly spooky. Born in Germany in 1868, Haber was a Heidelberg graduate, and won fame and fortune for giving the world access to riches beyond measure. Yet he also made a Faustian pact, with terrible consequences even beyond death.

Haber’s story is a salutary tale for all who insist science is value-free, as Charles makes clear in his gripping and nuanced account. The son of a wealthy Jewish merchant, Haber’s early life gave no hint of brilliance. He showed some interest in science as a teenager, but found university science a bore. He focused on chemistry, eventually securing a place in academia, helped by mentors who sensed greatness in the young man.

He was in his 40s before he justified their belief and made the breakthrough for which he is best known today – and for which he won a Nobel prize. In 1909 he extracted nitrogen from the air, “fixing” the notoriously inert gas as ammonia in what was to become the Haber-Bosch process.

At a stroke, Haber had blown apart Thomas Malthus’s apocalyptic prediction of a world destined for starvation as food supplies failed to keep pace with population growth. His scientific skills gave the world virtually unlimited supplies of nitrogen-based fertilisers with which to boost crop yields: “Brot aus Luft!” (bread from the air), as the breakthrough was hailed then.

But an altogether darker side to Haber’s triumph soon emerged. He had found a way of feeding not only the world’s starving masses, but also its guns. When the first world war broke out, the Allies prevented Germany from importing natural mineral sources of nitrogen, a key ingredient of high explosives. They were unaware that Haber’s process had given his homeland access to unlimited supplies of the stuff. According to Charles, without the breakthrough Germany’s artillery would have fallen silent after just six months.

Haber’s success led him further toward the dark forces. But Charles warns us against post hoc moral judgements. Haber’s Faustian pact was, he says, in keeping with a zeitgeist that led many German intellectuals to respond to the call of national pride and duty. Haber’s part was to pioneer chemical warfare, supervising the use of chlorine against Allied troops at Ypres.

Even at the time, this was seen as an appalling abuse of scientific knowledge. Many German commanders refused to work with Haber, and his wife appears to have killed herself in disgust at his involvement. After the war, Haber was forced to hide, amid rumours he was wanted as a war criminal.

Again, Charles asks us to eschew facile moralising, arguing that Haber believed his weapons could end the war quickly, saving lives on both sides. But his Faustian pact failed to save him from the Nazis, who saw only his Jewish ancestry, and he was forced into exile. He died in Switzerland in 1934, a broken man whose achievements were destined to be overshadowed by their dark side.

In one final terrible irony, another of Haber’s achievements – the development of potent insecticides – was seized on by the Nazis. Looking for a method of mass extermination, they turned to a modified form of zyklon B, developed with Haber’s help in 1924. Among its victims were members of Haber’s own family.

Fate has been kind to Haber in one regard. In Charles, he has a sophisticated biographer whose accessible style belies the depth of scholarship and research which underpins the work. Unlike the authors of too many biographies of scientists, Charles prefers original archival material to secondary sources, and uneasy truths to misleading caricatures. The result is an outstanding work, and one which should be mandatory reading for critics and cheerleaders of science alike.

Between Genius and Genocide: The tragedy of Fritz Haber, father of chemical warfare

Daniel Charles

Jonathan Cape

Topics: Books