from J. A. Topf & Söhne, the prestigious engineering firm which was the largest of twelve companies that designed and built gas chamber ventilation systems and concentration camp crematorium ovens. They jump right into the meeting, explaining the intricacy of their innovative new design to Rudolf and his comrade: “the other side of it is the next chamber. In here is the next load ready to burn, once the ‘pieces’ in here,” he says pointing with a pen, “have been completely incinerated”23. Rudolf’s interest is piqued: “in how long?”
The two salesmen realize they’ve hooked him in and start reeling: “seven hours. Four to five hundred at once,” says one. Not to be outdone, the other chimes in, “closer to five hundred!” He hands it back:
So, once that’s happened, you close this chimney. Then simultaneously open the next. The fire will follow the air, through this baffle of course, into this chamber and burn this load. In each case, the chamber directly opposite the fire zone, which is burning at around a thousand degrees, has by now cooled to around forty degrees. Cool enough to unload the ash then reload pieces.
The explanation is smooth and the handoffs between the two men well-choreographed; they’ve done this before and understand their customer. The euphemisms need no explanation, but once the camera cuts to the blueprint’s illustrated chimneys and architectural key, we understand that what he’s describing is co-creating a new product explicitly for the camp. As the realization dawns on us, Rudolf becomes visibly more engaged. The entire scene is disturbingly indistinguishable from a 21st-century account manager selling a new piece of tech to a legacy client.
Beyond the crematorium salesmen, the rest of The Zone of Interest continues to convey the massive nature of the business community’s complicity. This unflinching look at the core failures of ethical professionalism during the Holocaust is damning. In a letter to Reichsleiter Bormann24, an ally of Höss’s discusses the downsides of his proposed transfer in terms of a decline of Auschwitz’s industrial efficiency. Even here, the film hammers home the deep intertwinement of the Nazi military apparatus and its private-sector counterparts, as the ally highlights Höss’s “close contacts with the Silesian armaments industry” and the “groundbreaking ideas [Höss has brought] to the whole field of KL practice”25. Indeed, the letter of recommendation closes on a modern professional commendation one would receive in academia or engineering: “his particular strength is turning theory into practice.”
When the letter of recommendation doesn’t work and Rudolf is to be transferred away from the camp, Hedwig gets upset. He has no better explanation than just that the move is a result of drably corporate “structural changes.” In the meantime, he reaches back out to the crematorium salesmen in fawning professional admiration: “Bischoff and I both agree the ring crematorium is definitely the answer. What a difference it will make—bravo! I welcome your suggestion that the design should be patented in order to secure priority; I will follow up with a letter of intent.”
As with any good business relationship, he implies that his new promotion could be mutually beneficial. His current job is closer to his heart, but it’s always best to follow the money. Höss knows this better than anyone, learning from countless Nazi leadership meetings such as one where a peer is promoted “for consistently hitting his labor targets,” and celebrated for his service to industry. A superior exclaims, “I get fan mail from CEOs for this man!”
Post-promotion, Höss leans into the Nazis’ corporatism as professionally as any modern-day investment banker or business operator would his nation’s culture, addressing the “significant and converging challenges at every operational level” involved in the Hungarian Jewish genocide with bulleted agendas including “timings,” “redirection of construction resources,” and “prisoner workers.” For the last item, Rudolf invites an outside consultant, a man from large auto manufacturer Steyr-Daimler-Puch, to discuss “pay rates and incentives.” At every step, business thrives.
An audaciously open-ended final scene concludes the film as quickly as it began. And even though it builds on its filmic predecessors, such as in its extensive use of professional euphemism, The Zone of Interest stands alone in its grasp and communication of the absolute ubiquity of business complicity in the Holocaust. Glazer understands that during from 1933-1945, German professionals overwhelmingly stood by and profited from Nazi atrocities, in many cases going so far as to actively perpetuate them for personal and professional gain.
Although these films reflect thirty years of diverse and evolving perspectives on the role of business, industry, and broader professional conduct in and during the Holocaust, each resoundingly confirms the importance of our responsibility as professionals to behave ethically, and as people to reflect on—and to learn from—the mistakes of our collective past.
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Cameron Davis was a 2024 Business Fellow. He is currently a graduate student pursuing
a dual-degree MBA at MIT Sloan and MPA at the Harvard Kennedy School.
23. Patrick Hipes, “The Zone of Interest: Read The Screenplay For Jonathan Glazer’s Searing Holocaust Drama About Humans’ Capacity For Evil”, Deadline, January 9, 2024.
24. Reichsleiter translates to “national leader” or “Reich leader”; Martin Bormann was one of the few men elevated to the position, which was the second-highest political rank in the Nazi Party.
25. KL here is the abbreviation of Konzentrationslager, or “concentration camp.”
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