The Holocaust

By Andrew Aaron

Well, a great deal has been said here tonight. Some true, some false, some plainly wrong. If there is a topic that is ambiguous, unwieldy, far-reaching and filled with awe, it is the Holocaust. However as shot through with all the above as the Holocaust is, some truth can be found. Amazingly, the comments dovetail with each other, but two really stand alone.

The history of Germany and Judaism is not a particularly positive one. Whether it was in the German inquisition or the later polemics of Martin Luther or the outbreaks of anti-Semitism during World War I, there never has been an easy relationship between the two. Yet, Jews lived in Germany and even prospered there. The anti-Semitism in Germany was not much different, in either degree or kind, from that of the rest of Europe. Pogroms were less frequent than in Eastern Europe and powerful Jews as numerous as those in England. Germany was a culturally advanced society with mixed attitudes toward Jews, not much different from other countries of the time. So where did the viciousness emerge from?

Certainly, Hitler saw a world free of Jews. He was a deep anti-Semite who attracted others like him. However, given Germany’s present-day problem with Turks, one can only assume that there may be a quirk in the culture that needs to vilify the other (like so many other cultures) but also need to act on this vilification. This quirk may manifest itself in some of the people who carried out the brutal acts of the Holocaust, others may simply have been caught up in the fervor of the moment, that bizarre sense of community that Nazism inspired. It may be that many Germans saw a Europe free of Jews or just a town free of Jews. Violence is a whirlwind that often becomes a vast choreography that many cannot dance away from. Nonetheless, the Germans (and others) killed many Jews, but not all; the plan did not succeed.

The plan did not succeed but the Holocaust happened. Or did it? Is it possible that all the photos, artwork, secret essays and diaries, all the poetry are mere exaggerations, lies even? Can it be that the reports from Patton, who would not enter, and Eisenhower, who did, so he could say "I saw all this,” are mistaken, misrepresenting the truth, overdrawing the situation? Perhaps he and others are part of some sinister conspiracy. Perhaps it involves the Russians or the Allies or the Zionists in an attempt to take power from someone else. Perhaps? But what if it is true. It certainly is easier to believe that the suffering was far less, the horror minimized and rendered just a part of war, of life in POW camps, internment sites, relocation centers. These are so easy on the tongue, so smooth. Only, if it is true what do we do with all of our new questions: What about this incredible case of inhumanity to man? What to do with the loss of faith in man, in God? Where do we put the deep unease caused by the realization that progress and science were inseparable from the breadth and skillfulness of the act? Where does the fact that Germany was civilized, cultured and capable of the most murderous rampage lead one? What to do? What to do? Of course it is easier to deny, to downgrade the spectacle of the Holocaust but in the end is still there, calling into question all that we believe of ourselves and the whole of modernity. It is better to let such "revisionist" questions go and face the repugnance and explore the camps.

The camps existed, the holocaust happened. How could so many be oppressed by so few? How did they allow themselves to go “like lambs to the slaughter?” Many did not go at all. Many fled as far and wide as they could away from Nazism. Many hid for years and came out only reluctantly when they were sure the night was over. Some went to Israel and became the forebears of those who would later (ironically) call them weak. Many became fighters, resisters, and leaders of the people. These orchestrated the uprisings (or quelled them), led the secret armies of the sewers, and gave solace and comfort when they could. For many, it was these who delayed the end and gave time to escape.

Historically, the Jews of Europe knew about pogroms, knew about deportation. Who knew about genocide? By the time the unbelievable truth was out; many were dead, ill, or "gone" inside. For those left, it took time to get one's bearings. It took time to organize oneself according to the rules and terrain of hell. When the ovens were blown up at Sobibor, when black markets were run effectively from inside the camps, when information was passed out, all of these and more were the most profound of resistances. To blame the victim is almost always wrong, to not give credit to the victims for surviving (even a short time) is always wrong.

And many did survive. A miracle of will, luck, mazel, placing, fate. The Nazis did everything in their power to make camp living as horrible, as insulting, as foul as possible. It was hell, literally. Flames, smoke, unendurable, unending pain, weariness, illness, and filth were all in abundance in the camps, gleefully provided by the Germans. Dignity was taken by force, pride broken, men and women left naked to the world of the camps.

Each person was tagged like meat, all were dressed the same, so that their executioners could kill the same hated individual over and over The prisoners were expected to respond like animals, reduced passed caring to pure barbarism. Did it work? To some. They became debauched vacant, people whose souls had fled their bodies. They were musselmanns, animated skeletons.

Not all became like the musselmann, however. Dignity was found in the oddest places. Weak pseudo-coffee was used as a mouthwash. Any opportunity to wash or even sprinkle water on the skin was taken. Clothing was patched and "warmed-up.” Any act that gave proof of humanity, of taking interest in life was an act of survival, an act of hope. The Germans wanted animals, those who did these acts threw the words back onto their captors.

These acts saved lives. Inmates working together with other inmates to survive the fated that had seemingly caught them saved lives. Fate is a big word. Coincidence when it is traced back far enough becomes inevitable, and fate always plays a role. Men and women who knew how to work in groups lived. Men and women who knew how to delegate and be delegated to lived. Those who could cooperate lived. Businessmen, competitive and wary, tended not to make it. Aristocrats (as such) tended not to make it.

Daring, timing, watching, saved lives. The ability to learn enough German to understand the guards, saved lives.

Above all, cooperation saved lives. Nothing was easy in the camps. All things were geared to savagery, to the reduction of the individual to the state of the beast. So the fact that a rough form of ethics came into being, is amazing. This was an ethic of sharing what could be shared. It was an ethic of helping almost without thinking or knowing why. It was an ethic that demanded silence and punishment for traitors. One was never to steal a man's bread, but when possible, one was to share a crumb, a pinch of salt, a piece of string. It was an ethic that was group-driven and individually centered. A man could be killed by a guard that just came on duty—fate in action But a man who was tipped off that Guard A likes vodka or cigarettes or chocolate; that he is sober at 6 but not so after 8; that meat is available in the storeroom after 8:30, this was how fate was circumvented, this was how the camps were survived.

Hell is lived through, and the survivors blink in the strong sun brought by the allies. Most of the Europe they knew is gone as are most of their families. Long waits in displaced person camps and new homes far away become the lot of many of them. The depression is over, the war won. Go on, be free. Soon there is even an Israel to go to and enjoy. Hell is not a place only, it is a mindset. It becomes a part of you, a cold region few understand. Many of the survivors went onto new lives, new families.

Many did not. How does one let go of so much pain? We know how long the grieving may last when one loses a loved one to old age.  We grieve the loss of a job, a house, a friend. How does one grieve the loss of a town, a city, a people?

It may be asked, “Why should they let go of their experience? Why let go of such a powerful truth?” Unquestionably, many do let go. Or perhaps the pain is put aside, pushed down. “Never again” are only words unless we know what follows after “again.” If for no other reason, by not “getting over it,” survivors make us all wrestle with our past and our present and our future. "Look (they say), look how close the beast is to the surface. I have seen it, lived with it. I know it." We need such witnesses; need them to point out the truth to us. I do not know how many survivors do not get over "it". That they do not wail in the streets (as perhaps they should) is something.  There are no normal lives to live, but there are extraordinary lives to share.