UBS Battles Congress as Credit Suisse’s Nazi Ties Explode

Paul Riverbank, 2/4/2026UBS faces Congress as hidden Nazi-linked accounts at Credit Suisse ignite new global reckoning.

Investigators — this time with their sights fixed and the patience of seasoned archivists — have uncovered nearly 900 accounts with suspected ties to the Nazi regime. The numbers, stark and far higher than earlier assessments ever hinted, pulled lawmakers and the descendants of Holocaust survivors alike into a new cycle of questions.

Senator Chuck Grassley, a familiar figure in Congressional hearings and not one for dramatic phrasing, pressed the matter into daylight. “These accounts were once used by individuals or entities who participated in or assisted Nazi war efforts,” he told the room, referencing ledger entries for everything from the German Foreign Office to infamous arms manufacturers and, even more hauntingly, the German Red Cross. Unlike past inquiries, this probe — reignited after a faltering start — peeled back layers that had been waiting, dormant and mostly undisturbed, for longer than many witnesses have been alive.

It’s a story heavy with ironies. Years earlier, when Credit Suisse brought in external counsel to conduct a forensic review, they’d wrapped up their search with a tally of under a hundred suspect accounts. The bank, perhaps eager to move forward, accepted that number. But the intervention of lawyer Neil Barofsky, initially tasked with seeing the investigation through, pried the doors further open. His sudden removal in 2022 — a chapter marked by his resistance to what he called “efforts to suppress the truth” — nearly derailed the process, but Congressional pushback brought him back. And his testimony didn’t mince words. Among the files he examined were accounts belonging to the German Foreign Office, organizations infamously complicit in orchestrating some of the Holocaust’s worst atrocities, from rounding up Jews in Eastern Europe to managing the machinery of the ghettos and camps.

Barofsky’s recounting was vivid and, at points, almost unbearable in its detail. “Credit Suisse had four accounts with the German Foreign Office ... administered at the highest levels of the Nazi government,” he explained, his words trailing into a grim catalog of economic facilitation — not merely bystanders, but bankers for a murderous regime. Beyond these, he named financial ties to the Nazi SS, whose “business model,” if one can call it such, included the profits of slave labor and the systematic theft of personal property. The proceeds, at one point, even extended to the commercial sale of hair cut from women and children as they were taken to their deaths.

In fact, what the senators learned — and what few could have predicted — is that earlier settlements, including the $1.25 billion agreement with Holocaust survivors in the late 1990s, may have been based on information that was, at best, incomplete. Ronald Lauder, a leading voice in those earlier negotiations, acknowledged recently, “We probably left $5 to $10 billion on the table.” Understated, perhaps, but laden with frustration, given what’s emerged.

Some of the most compelling new evidence traces a winding route to South America. Argentina’s new president, Javier Milei, surprised many by granting U.S. investigators extended access to archives preserved from the years when Argentina served as a haven for Nazi fugitives. These records deepened suspicions — now firming into accepted fact — that the “ratlines” used to smuggle war criminals out of Europe flourished with logistical and, it seems, financial support routed through Switzerland. A detail so unusual it borders on the cinematic: Credit Suisse once leased a building, the same one Argentina commandeered to orchestrate the escape of German officers and bureaucrats post-1945.

And all this unfolds at a time when reports from the Anti-Defamation League indicate a shocking 893% increase in antisemitic incidents across the United States over the past decade. The timing isn’t lost on anyone in the hearing room, least of all the senators pressing for full exposure.

Credit Suisse, independent no more, has left UBS to handle the fallout. At their latest court appearance, UBS’s lawyers asked the judge for a pause, requesting protection from any renewed public controversy and from new compensation claims under historic settlements. The Simon Wiesenthal Center, longstanding in its mission, saw things differently — resisting any move construed as stifling vital research, particularly when the stakes are as much about truth as they are about restitution.

Robert Karofsky, UBS’s president for the Americas, did his best to assure lawmakers, offering both cooperation and a pledge to finalize and release the findings. One senses, though, that for all the talk of closure, many are bracing for further unwelcome revelations.

As 2024 unfolds, the world waits for the final report — a document expected to finally, perhaps, address what really transpired between Switzerland’s banking elite and Europe’s darkest chapter. There’s a sense this might not just be about reconciling ledgers and legacy, but about memory itself, and whether a society truly willing to confront the remnants of the past might find firmer footing in a more honest future.

On an otherwise uneventful Tuesday, Capitol Hill’s hush gave way to an uneasy reckoning as senators gathered around newly surfaced evidence from the vaults once kept by Credit Suisse. The centuries-old Swiss bank, now shuttered in name after its takeover by UBS, found itself at the heart of a grim episode that refuses to fade from history’s conscience.Investigators — this time with their sights fixed and the patience of seasoned archivists — have uncovered nearly 900 accounts with suspected ties to the Nazi regime. The numbers, stark and far higher than earlier assessments ever hinted, pulled lawmakers and the descendants of Holocaust survivors alike into a new cycle of questions.Senator Chuck Grassley, a familiar figure in Congressional hearings and not one for dramatic phrasing, pressed the matter into daylight. “These accounts were once used by individuals or entities who participated in or assisted Nazi war efforts,” he told the room, referencing ledger entries for everything from the German Foreign Office to infamous arms manufacturers and, even more hauntingly, the German Red Cross. Unlike past inquiries, this probe — reignited after a faltering start — peeled back layers that had been waiting, dormant and mostly undisturbed, for longer than many witnesses have been alive.It’s a story heavy with ironies. Years earlier, when Credit Suisse brought in external counsel to conduct a forensic review, they’d wrapped up their search with a tally of under a hundred suspect accounts. The bank, perhaps eager to move forward, accepted that number. But the intervention of lawyer Neil Barofsky, initially tasked with seeing the investigation through, pried the doors further open. His sudden removal in 2022 — a chapter marked by his resistance to what he called “efforts to suppress the truth” — nearly derailed the process, but Congressional pushback brought him back. And his testimony didn’t mince words. Among the files he examined were accounts belonging to the German Foreign Office, organizations infamously complicit in orchestrating some of the Holocaust’s worst atrocities, from rounding up Jews in Eastern Europe to managing the machinery of the ghettos and camps.Barofsky’s recounting was vivid and, at points, almost unbearable in its detail. “Credit Suisse had four accounts with the German Foreign Office ... administered at the highest levels of the Nazi government,” he explained, his words trailing into a grim catalog of economic facilitation — not merely bystanders, but bankers for a murderous regime. Beyond these, he named financial ties to the Nazi SS, whose “business model,” if one can call it such, included the profits of slave labor and the systematic theft of personal property. The proceeds, at one point, even extended to the commercial sale of hair cut from women and children as they were taken to their deaths.In fact, what the senators learned — and what few could have predicted — is that earlier settlements, including the $1.25 billion agreement with Holocaust survivors in the late 1990s, may have been based on information that was, at best, incomplete. Ronald Lauder, a leading voice in those earlier negotiations, acknowledged recently, “We probably left $5 to $10 billion on the table.” Understated, perhaps, but laden with frustration, given what’s emerged.Some of the most compelling new evidence traces a winding route to South America. Argentina’s new president, Javier Milei, surprised many by granting U.S. investigators extended access to archives preserved from the years when Argentina served as a haven for Nazi fugitives. These records deepened suspicions — now firming into accepted fact — that the “ratlines” used to smuggle war criminals out of Europe flourished with logistical and, it seems, financial support routed through Switzerland. A detail so unusual it borders on the cinematic: Credit Suisse once leased a building, the same one Argentina commandeered to orchestrate the escape of German officers and bureaucrats post-1945.And all this unfolds at a time when reports from the Anti-Defamation League indicate a shocking 893% increase in antisemitic incidents across the United States over the past decade. The timing isn’t lost on anyone in the hearing room, least of all the senators pressing for full exposure.Credit Suisse, independent no more, has left UBS to handle the fallout. At their latest court appearance, UBS’s lawyers asked the judge for a pause, requesting protection from any renewed public controversy and from new compensation claims under historic settlements. The Simon Wiesenthal Center, longstanding in its mission, saw things differently — resisting any move construed as stifling vital research, particularly when the stakes are as much about truth as they are about restitution.Robert Karofsky, UBS’s president for the Americas, did his best to assure lawmakers, offering both cooperation and a pledge to finalize and release the findings. One senses, though, that for all the talk of closure, many are bracing for further unwelcome revelations.As 2024 unfolds, the world waits for the final report — a document expected to finally, perhaps, address what really transpired between Switzerland’s banking elite and Europe’s darkest chapter. There’s a sense this might not just be about reconciling ledgers and legacy, but about memory itself, and whether a society truly willing to confront the remnants of the past might find firmer footing in a more honest future.