Centralised identity systems are fraught with significant issues. They strip individuals of their identities, rendering them mere numbers ripe for exploitation. While often associated with governmental control, history reminds us that public and private entities alike are not immune to abusing such systems. Although state power is usually required to initially impose and enforce universal identity systems, once in place they can transform into instruments of unchecked authority, attracting malevolent and greedy forces from anywhere.
This blog post delves briefly into the disturbing history of Nazi Germany, where companies shamelessly profited from forced labour camps. Often perceived to be primarily filled with Jews, these camps imprisoned a diverse array of people, each bearing different identity traits considered undesirable by the ruling elite. The government’s centralised identity system played a pivotal role in facilitating this granular identification, ultimately leading to the widespread dehumanisation of individuals. By scrutinising these historical events, we glean crucial insights into the potential perils posed by modern digital equivalents, underscoring the urgent need to safeguard against the devaluation of human life in similar circumstances.
The Nazi government traded knowledge of the population’s identity with private industries that sought to exploit forced labour and produce profitable goods for the war effort. This produced a chilling symbiotic environment where, in the words of author Annie Jacobsen, “humans and machine parts went in” and “rockets and corpses came out.” For example, private chemical conglomerate IG Farben, which operated the Auschwitz III chemical plant, actively benefited from this immoral practice. From the railway platform, company employees would assess the universal identity cards for the people who arrived in the box cars, looking for necessary language, trade, or other skills.
Based on the train’s human manifest, useful people were forced to produced synthetic tire rubber, aircraft fuel, munitions, and even poisonous gases on site. There they suffered a life expectancy of three months. Those people with identity cards indicating no usable skills were transferred to Auschwitz II, Birkenau—the camp that housed the gas chambers and crematoria. Remarkably, with a mere stroke of a pen and a wave of a hand, employees of a private company enjoying tax exemptions from the Nazi government sentenced strangers to death. This is what happens when universal identity systems reduce humans to a set of identity characteristics.
Beyond IG Farben, companies involved in military production and advanced technology also shamelessly seized the opportunity to benefit commercially from the utilisation of human stocktaking. For example, Heinkel, which produced military aircraft and advanced propulsion, used specifically selected slave labour. Another similar example was Steyr-Daimler-Puch, a company that played a significant role in manufacturing weapons, vehicles, and engines for the war effort.
Shockingly, Steyr-Daimler-Puch holds the infamous distinction of being the first arms corporation to actively employ Nazi slave labour. This decision did not originate from the Nazis themselves but rather from the company’s director, Georg Meindl. Meindl actively lobbied senior SS officials, urging them to grant Steyr-Daimler-Puch “early and preferential access to labour from concentration camps.” This disturbing collaboration sheds light on the extent to which companies were willing to exploit human beings for their utility.
The haunting scenes that unfolded within the corporate production lines of that era were reminiscent of ancient Egypt’s harsh realities. Workers were subjected to the crack of whips, reduced to mere cogs in a heartless machine, and assigned numbers instead of names. They existed at the mercy of their masters’ ever-shifting whims. Even a misplaced gaze, deemed as insubordination, could swiftly lead to being garrotted or hanged on the spot in full display, much like one might destroy a malfunctioning piece of equipment in frustration.
In today’s world, the establishment of centralised digital identity systems is a cardinal risk. Its use will not be confined to benevolent government actions, and the experiences of those within its grasp will not always be positive. By heeding the lessons of history, we recognise the urgency of safeguarding against the devaluation of human life and preserving the fundamental principles that define our humanity.
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