Teetotaler to junkie. Appears well-researched. ( )

The title is sightly misleading, in that the book only really looks at three case studies; one, the use by Adolf Hitler of an appalling cocktail of medications, something that's been known but is presented in an organized fashion here; two, the use by the German armed forces of stimulants, something that's also been known but is presented in an organized fashion here; and three, the use of a particular medication, Pervitin, which I don't think has really been presented before. The book doesn't really go into whether or not the regime tried to fight drugs or booze, except touching on it tangentially. Still, an interesting book. ( )

Opioid Crisis … in Nazi Germany

Norman Ohler puts forth a straightforward thesis: Nazi Germany, top to bottom, military included, suffered a generalized addiction to opioids, particularly methamphetamine, marketed as Pervitin; the chief dopehead was Hitler; the head doper was Theodor Morell, Hitler’s personal physician. Ohler cites reams of original research dug out of Nazi files (Nazis were big documentarians) to support his proposition. In many ways, he presents a very appealing case, something like, if you will allow, The General Theory of Nazi Inhumanity, or The General Theory of German Blindness, depending on whether you can’t allow yourself to believe rational people capable of committing massive atrocities, or you wish to excuse how a nation could allow millions to be slaughtered in fulfillment of a political ideology.

This doesn’t discount the value of Ohler’s research and presentation, but it does mean readers need to approach it cautiously and not allow themselves to be sweep up in it as a unifying theory. The real value here may be that Ohler, a novelist outsider, gives impetus for historians of all disciplines—medical, military, political, and social—to take a closer look at drug use in pre- and Nazi Germany and perhaps eventually incorporate it into their more expansive and inclusive histories and biographies of the times and the people.

In his text, supported by hundreds of footnotes, Ohler covers the development of the drug industry in Germany preceding the rise of the Nazis and WWII. He shows how methamphetamine captured the imagination of people, got branded as Pervitin, and then smartly packaged and sold to doctors and the general public. Reading Ohler’s colorful recounting, you could easily believe the entire country in the 1930s was guzzling down Pervitin in tablet form and mixed with foods, such as chocolates. If you didn’t know how damaging meth is, you might find the whole affair amusing.

He goes on to show how Pervitin wormed its way into the military as a stimulant for pushing soldiers beyond normal human endurance to create an impression of supermen at war. Ohler’s portrayals of selected military engagements, among them the storming of Poland and the overrunning of France, do give you pause. But no drug works forever, as your body builds tolerances, initiating a vicious and deadly cycle in search of the first ecstatic high. In other words, even if meth may have played a roll in winning some encounters, eventually it became a debilitating addictive failure, as Ohler points out.

Then there is Hitler himself, the man portrayed to Germans as pure of body and the mightier for it; who, with his Nazi cohorts, propagandized for a healthy society and the banishment of drugs, bad eating habits, and nasty “unnatural” sex. Ohler devotes half the book to the Leader and his personal physician, who over time morphed into Hitler’s personal drug supplier, always at his side, always ready with a pill, with an injection of morphine and later on an opioid cousin, Eukodal. That Hitler was in the thrall of medical concoctions to mitigate any number of unsettling maladies, especially of the alimentary canal, is well known. Many also accept he became an addict. Ohler posits complete and debilitating addiction that extended to Hitler’s thought processes and decision-making ability; in short, Hitler behaved irrationally. Though Ohler takes a paragraph to militate against the pages of evidence he has presented, the impression a reader takes away is the opposite, that in fact Hitler became unhinged and borderline insane, particularly in the 1940s, concluding in a complete break from reality and the fanatical about destroying his own country.

So, readers interested in Hitler, in Nazi Germany, in German military performance in WWII, and the destructive effects of rampant drug use, all will find Ohler’s book informative and riveting. However, until historians of all types take up his lead and more closely scrutinize what he has brought forcefully to the forefront, that Germany descended into a suggestible stupefaction to condone murderous ways and stepped into the abyss at the beckoning of a madman, as opposed to rational people behaving knowledgeably in all ways contrary to that rationality, well, this will have to await much further study.
( )

Opioid Crisis … in Nazi Germany

Norman Ohler puts forth a straightforward thesis: Nazi Germany, top to bottom, military included, suffered a generalized addiction to opioids, particularly methamphetamine, marketed as Pervitin; the chief dopehead was Hitler; the head doper was Theodor Morell, Hitler’s personal physician. Ohler cites reams of original research dug out of Nazi files (Nazis were big documentarians) to support his proposition. In many ways, he presents a very appealing case, something like, if you will allow, The General Theory of Nazi Inhumanity, or The General Theory of German Blindness, depending on whether you can’t allow yourself to believe rational people capable of committing massive atrocities, or you wish to excuse how a nation could allow millions to be slaughtered in fulfillment of a political ideology.

This doesn’t discount the value of Ohler’s research and presentation, but it does mean readers need to approach it cautiously and not allow themselves to be sweep up in it as a unifying theory. The real value here may be that Ohler, a novelist outsider, gives impetus for historians of all disciplines—medical, military, political, and social—to take a closer look at drug use in pre- and Nazi Germany and perhaps eventually incorporate it into their more expansive and inclusive histories and biographies of the times and the people.

In his text, supported by hundreds of footnotes, Ohler covers the development of the drug industry in Germany preceding the rise of the Nazis and WWII. He shows how methamphetamine captured the imagination of people, got branded as Pervitin, and then smartly packaged and sold to doctors and the general public. Reading Ohler’s colorful recounting, you could easily believe the entire country in the 1930s was guzzling down Pervitin in tablet form and mixed with foods, such as chocolates. If you didn’t know how damaging meth is, you might find the whole affair amusing.

He goes on to show how Pervitin wormed its way into the military as a stimulant for pushing soldiers beyond normal human endurance to create an impression of supermen at war. Ohler’s portrayals of selected military engagements, among them the storming of Poland and the overrunning of France, do give you pause. But no drug works forever, as your body builds tolerances, initiating a vicious and deadly cycle in search of the first ecstatic high. In other words, even if meth may have played a roll in winning some encounters, eventually it became a debilitating addictive failure, as Ohler points out.

Then there is Hitler himself, the man portrayed to Germans as pure of body and the mightier for it; who, with his Nazi cohorts, propagandized for a healthy society and the banishment of drugs, bad eating habits, and nasty “unnatural” sex. Ohler devotes half the book to the Leader and his personal physician, who over time morphed into Hitler’s personal drug supplier, always at his side, always ready with a pill, with an injection of morphine and later on an opioid cousin, Eukodal. That Hitler was in the thrall of medical concoctions to mitigate any number of unsettling maladies, especially of the alimentary canal, is well known. Many also accept he became an addict. Ohler posits complete and debilitating addiction that extended to Hitler’s thought processes and decision-making ability; in short, Hitler behaved irrationally. Though Ohler takes a paragraph to militate against the pages of evidence he has presented, the impression a reader takes away is the opposite, that in fact Hitler became unhinged and borderline insane, particularly in the 1940s, concluding in a complete break from reality and the fanatical about destroying his own country.

So, readers interested in Hitler, in Nazi Germany, in German military performance in WWII, and the destructive effects of rampant drug use, all will find Ohler’s book informative and riveting. However, until historians of all types take up his lead and more closely scrutinize what he has brought forcefully to the forefront, that Germany descended into a suggestible stupefaction to condone murderous ways and stepped into the abyss at the beckoning of a madman, as opposed to rational people behaving knowledgeably in all ways contrary to that rationality, well, this will have to await much further study.
( )

This is a very well-written and wonderfully interesting book, with a few caveats though. At just over 200 pages, Blitzed is a relatively short book, but Norman Ohler covers both the role of drugs in the Third Reich, and the role of drugs in Hitler’s life. The jumping back and forth between the two can be slightly jarring as it happens abruptly and without notice. Moreover, there are parts of the book that seem left out and people who should be important (such as Hitler’s personal physician and Eva Braun) are brought in and out of the narrative seemingly without notice, with no discussion of what they’ve been doing for the last 80 pages.

Ohler also seems to disregard almost all previous scholarship on Hitler and his health and addiction, and it’s certainly heartening to see how he relies mainly on primary sources and how much work he put into finding and reinterpreting his work. That being said, spending a chapter discussing the scholarship and why he came to differing conclusions would have been useful. A lot of what I found on the scholarship was buried in footnotes.

Ultimately this is definitely a book to pick up as it offers a new perspective into history, but as Dagmar Herzog notes in their NYTimes review, “Ohler’s claim to be offering new insights too often rests on such leaps in logic, casting doubt on his book’s status as history, rather than really interesting historical fiction.” (Seriously check out that review it is really interesting and offers the main points of the book as well as the criticisms I’ve noted and more). Take Ohler’s assertions with a grain of salt. ( )