The Power of Kinship in the Camps

This blog post references The Holocaust Kingdom, a memoir written by Alexander Donat. This work was originally written in 1963; all quotes are from the 1999 edition.
"“Kinship is…being one with the other.” "– Fr. Gregory Boyle, Tattoo on the Heart

Holocaust survivors displaying their numbered tattoos as assigned at concentration camps.

During my time in Poland, I have gained a wealth of knowledge and insight with regards to the experience of prisoners within concentration camps, specifically Auschwitz I and Auschwitz-Birkenau. From my readings of survivor accounts and interaction with tour guides and information at the camps themselves, I have learned that imprisonment within these camps was the epitome of ostracization. Prisoners endured maltreatment, hatred, and were blatantly dehumanized by Nazi actions and speech. They were torn from their families, rendered identity-less, and endured abuse at every moment.

Death and defeat always loomed, and fellow prisoners died in great numbers; while visiting Auschwitz-Birkenau, our group was informed that as many as 6,000 Jews were gassed by the S.S. per day (Source: our wonderful tour guide, Lidia). S.S. soldiers and block leaders within the camps were quick to remind prisoners of the inevitability of death. In his memoir The Holocaust Kingdom, Alexander Donat notes the motto of a previous Barrack Elder during his time at Majdanek: “Don’t forget, you must die so that I may live” (161).

In considering this, I found myself asking the following question: How could prisoners survive in such a volatile, horrific environment?

Shortly after walking the grounds of Auschwitz I and Auschwitz-Birkenau, our group went to an art exhibition entitled “Photographic Plates of Memory. Labyrinths” by Marian Kolodziej, a former prisoner of Auschwitz. This exhibition, which is permanently installed in the lower level of Our Lady Immaculate Church in Harmęże, gave deeper insight into the ostracization and loneliness faced by prisoners. As our guide, Fr. Florio, led us through the exhibition, I felt deflated. Was there no way to navigate the hell of Auschwitz? Was there any hope to be found?

As Fr. Florio beckoned towards images of prisoners huddled together, he addressed their agonized unity in remarking, “kinship was crucial to surviving.” It was at this moment that I found a sense of resolve to my inner questions, and saw the truth in this statement illuminated. The concept of kinship as that which sustains another resonated with me; as a person of faith, I have found the idea of kinship echoed in various theological sources. Fr. Gregory Boyle, a Jesuit priest, alludes to the importance of kinship in his work Tattoos on the Heart. He notes that kinship brings us “closer to creating a community,” where we can “stand…with those whose dignity has been denied.” It is important to note that Boyle is speaking from his experience as a rehabilitator and advocate of gang members in Southern California. Despite this, his assertions hold validity in considering how kinship fueled prisoners in their plight to survive.

We see the power of kinship in Alexander Donat’s The Holocaust Kingdom. Kinship, in word and in deed, emerges as a conduit to survival throughout Donat’s oppression. Though there are examples of kinship between Donat and other individuals in the Warsaw Ghetto, for purposes of this post, I will refer to scenes of kinship in the camps.

Display mimicking the march of prisoners within the Polish block, at the Auschwitz I Memorial / Concentration Camp in Oświęcim.

One scene of kinship is captured in the interactions between Donat and Horowitz, a Czech Jew assigned as the Lagerschrieber of Field Three in Majdanek. Donat appeals to him, begging for help in survival: “I felt [as a journalist] I had a duty to survive tell the world about the murder of the Jewish people. I appealed to him to help me survive” (164). Moved by the similarity of their prior professions, Horowitz works to find Donat a lenient job, eventually securing him a well-fed job at the Fahrbereitschaft (the motor pool of Majdanek). Though Donat’s time at the motor pool is short-lived, Horowitz’s kinship sustains him and enabled him to gather “physical and moral strength” (Donat 172). Surely if Horowitz had not been aided, Donat could have faced a worse fate.

Donat’s interactions with the Jews after being transferred to the Radom labor camp further illustrate the power of kinship in the camps. Here, Donat and his peers received nourishment, medical attention, and compassion from the other inhabitants at Radom. He emphasizes that despite the food received from the Jews of Radom, “the cordiality shown us was even more precious than the food.” (187)

Other less-detailed but still relevant examples of kinship exist throughout the text; Donat mentions that upon fainting during a roll call, his neighbors came to his aid and propped him up. A particularly touching scene is when Szulc, a former restauranteur, would describe dishes he had prepared in his restaurant to induce a relieved appetite for surrounding prisoners. (Donat 168) How minute this seems, at first glance, yet how important these and other gestures were to Donat and his peers during his stay at Majdanek. Boyle emphasizes that “the self cannot survive without love.” In considering the kinship among Donat and other individuals in the Ghetto and camps, one sees the validity of this claim and the power that is inherent in kinship. The accounts of kinship between Alexander Donat and other prisoners moved me in a profound way, and caused me to think more deeply about the impact of human relationship in surviving one of the worst acts in human history.