Struggling To Be A Witness

If asked how I felt about leaving Poland, I would have to answer: bittersweet. Despite having only spent a week out of the country, I must admit that I was eager to return to America. We accomplished a great deal during our short stay, and the exhaustion from constantly trying to absorb every ounce of information being presented to us was catching up to me. I needed time to just sit and reflect on the trip – to piece together everything that I had learned. That being said, I was also anxious about returning home. Going to Poland and studying the Holocaust at its epicenter, meant that I was no longer just an average student, rather, I had become a witness. As soon as I walked through the gates at Auschwitz I and Auschwitz II-Birkenau, my eyes fell on to the malevolence responsible for the deaths of millions. As a result, it was now my duty to ensure that the tragedy I observed never be forgotten – a responsibility that I was not sure I could handle.  

"Memorial of Torn-Out Hearts" Located at Plaszów Concentration Camp

During our time in Poland, the class had been warned on numerous occasions about the potential difficulties we may face in regards to answering the questions many were sure to ask us once we returned. What we learned, saw, and experienced was incredibly complicated. To describe it to someone during a passing conversation, a casual “How was Poland?” shouted from across campus, was simply not possible. I knew that it would only be a matter of time before I began to be asked these questions, and I wanted to make sure that I could answer such inquiries in a way that did this experience justice. However, nothing could have prepared me for the most difficult question I have been asked so far: “How were the Nazis able to hurt the Jews?”

            While this question is complex (in the sense that there are a multitude of reasons as to why and how the Nazi party was able to murder 6 million Jews), it was the person asking me this question that made it all the more difficult to answer. This was no peer, no professor – rather, my 11-year-old brother. Now, at this point in my studies of the Holocaust, I was prepared to provide a lengthy explanation as to why the Nazis acted the way they had, as well as what had allowed their endeavors to be so successful. However, just as I finished gathering my thoughts, I realized who I was speaking to – a child. Taken aback, I found myself struggling to reword what I had been about to say, simplifying it in a way that ignored the harsh specifics and focused more on general facts. Despite having answered my brother’s question, I could not help but to feel a twinge of guilt, for I had done so in a manner than excluded details essential to one’s Holocaust education, and feared that such an answer would not have the desired impact. Thus, I began to question my integrity as a witness.

"International Monument" Located at Auschwitz II-Birkenau 

            Prior to this experience with my younger sibling, I had only ever discussed the Holocaust with other students, professors, and various scholars. As a result, I was able to speak freely, allow my thoughts to be heard, and not have to worry about being too gruesome. In other words, I never had to sensor myself before. This all changed when I realized that my audience was not always going to be comprised of individuals my age and/or above. It was at this time that I entered a sort of inner struggle. I knew that it was possible to simplify the events that took place during the Holocaust so as to not traumatize children when discussing such tragedies – as that is exactly what happens when many students are first introduced to the subject. However, I also knew that this watered down curriculum greatly inhibited one’s understanding of the Holocaust. To dismiss the specifics and speak only of the facts, meant that essential events and ideas regarding the Holocaust could, and most likely would, be overlooked. It is through this process of picking and choosing what to say and what to teach that the impact of this education has the potential to be greatly diminished. As a result, I found myself uncertain as to how exactly I should go about discussing the Holocaust with a younger audience – for I knew that to simply not answer their questions would be an injustice to the victims I act as a witness to, but at the same time, I also knew that by answering their questions they may not entirely understand due to the complexity of the material, or that I could potentially traumatize them.

Rose Left Behind in Honor of Those Who Lost Their Lives at Auschwitz II-Birkenau

            All this being said, however, throughout the process of writing this blog and speaking more with the professors in charge of this course, I have come to a realization, and as a result, an easement to the uncertainty I felt regarding my integrity as a witness. While it is my responsibility as a witness to share what I have learned through my time studying the Holocaust thus far, that does not mean I have to regurgitate every ounce of knowledge I have obtained. Rather, it means that as long as I discuss my experience – whether it be in a complex, fully detailed manner, or a simplified, more factual kind of structure – I am fulfilling my duty, and thus encouraging the continued remembrance of the Holocaust.