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. 

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More Than Just A Number

It was during our first trip to Auschwitz (I) that I realized that such a large part of the Holocaust relates to the dehumanization of its victims. One of the first concepts we discussed in this class was the Teaching of Contempt – a Christian curriculum designed to shame followers of the Jewish faith through classifying them as degenerative murderers of God Himself. During this lesson, we were asked to analyze various influential Early-Christian texts, one of which being John Chrysostom’s Homily 1: Against the Jews. It is in this text that the Archbishop preaches to his followers the dangers of the Jews, referring to their religion as a disease and to them as demons and beasts. Flash forward a millennium and such dehumanizing tactics are still being used today, albeit in a less harsh manner. This time in the form of numbers, the victims of the Holocaust are constantly being associated with/referred to as statistics, rather than humans.

Barracks at Auschwitz I

Whether it is the dates that events began or ended, the amount of calories consumed per day, the death toll, or even the prisoners of the concentration and extermination camps themselves, numbers play a vital role in the understanding of the Holocaust. In fact, statistics are used as a means of putting this tragedy into a somewhat more fathomable perspective. However, numbers and the Holocaust an adverse history as well. The Nazis would be given a certain number of people kill, and they would achieve that goal by any means necessary. Prisoners would be assigned a number upon arriving at the Auschwitz camps, and would thenceforth be referred to solely by those digits. At roll call, S.S. Guards would count to make sure that the proper number of prisoners were in attendance. In the mind of the Holocaust perpetrators, there were no people, just quotas – or rather, numbers. Unfortunately, a similar mindset can be found today. With the Holocaust curriculum being comprised largely of the numbers associated with it, many are finding it increasingly more difficult to differentiate these statistics from the people they are being applied to, as they are being taught to look at the numbers, rather than the people themselves.

Prisoner Uniforms Lined Up

Prior to attending this trip, almost everything I knew about the Holocaust was in the form of a number. When my education of the Holocaust first began, I was taught that the years 1933-1945 were filled with unimaginable horrors, that during this time millions of lives were ruthlessly taken. While a day or two was spent discussing who these lives once belonged to (Jews, homosexuals, Gypsies, etc.), a greater emphasis was still being placed on the number of people killed rather than the people themselves. My teacher did not say “Jews were murdered,” but rather “six million Jews were murdered.” Every fact we learned either started in or ended with some arrangement of digits. Did this prevent me from being able to see that this was a horrible period in time? Of course not. However, it did inhibit my understanding of the significance of the Holocaust and the importance behind studying it. As a result, I never considered to look past the numbers, or to even consider why the numbers were what they were. I simply accepted them.

Assorted Cookware Brought by Prisoners to Auschwitz I

It was only after taking this class and traveling to Poland that I began to view the Holocaust and its victims through a different perspective. During our first night in Poland, we were lectured by Father Manfred – an established scholar of the Holocaust. It was during this lecture that Father Manfred discussed the importance of the victims of the Holocaust, and how by connecting with them – by putting ourselves in their mind – we are able to get a glimpse at what the Holocaust was, as well as how such a tragedy could occur. In other words, in order to understand the Holocaust, we must first care about the victims. In order to do that, however, it is essential that we saw them as human beings, not just statistics. This idea is something that I kept in the back of my mind when we visited the camps. Being brought through the barracks that once contained prisoners, seeing what their living conditions were like, and learning about how they all brought their possessions from home under the impression that they would someday return, made something click. Statistics did not live in these prison cells. Numbers did not starve. It was humans who were hanged by their hands just inches above the ground, humans who were forced to walk to the gas chambers, humans whose ashes once covered this camp. Only by making this connection were my eyes finally opened to the Holocaust in its entirety.

Guard Tower and Warning Sign at Auschwitz I

To discuss the events that took place during the Holocaust without numbers, would be a gross injustice. However, while it is incredibly important to learn about these numbers, it is also essential to differentiate them from the people they are associated with. If this distinction fails to be made, we risk dehumanizing those who were murdered, therefore distancing ourselves from the severity of the Holocaust and preventing the magnitude of this event from fully being recognized.

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Remembering the Past While Establishing a New Future

Immediately after arriving in Poland, we were brought on a walking tour of Oświęcim – the town we were staying in. Led by Sister Mary, we traveled through time, fluctuating between three distinct periods: Oświęcim before, during, and after the Shoah. Referred to as Oshpitzin by the Jewish community, which means “guests” in Yiddish, Sister Marry informed us that this town was viewed as a place for all Jews seeking asylum. Hearing this, and knowing that Oświęcim also housed the largest Nazi concentration and extermination camp (Auschwitz II – Birkenau), completely shocked me. For this area of refuge, which once nourished and supported Jewish life, to do a complete 180 and become the location of the murder factory responsible for devouring the lives of hundreds of thousands of Jews, was unfathomable. However, as discouraging as this realization was, as our tour continued it became increasingly more evident that despite living in the shadow of the Holocaust, the town of Oświęcim maintained a sense of resilience that no darkness could extinguish.

Only Surviving Jewish Cemetery in Oświęcim

Our first stop on this tour was at a Jewish cemetery — the only one left in the town. As we waited outside of its gate, Sister Mary briefed us on the history of this cemetery. She explained to us that during the war, in an effort to rid Oświęcim of Jewish influence, this sacred ground was demolished by Nazis. Once we entered the cemetery, this became all too clear. Slightly overgrown and with a sense of abandonment seeping through its walls, it was obvious that this was a place that had seen much devastation. However, after taking a few minutes to walk around its premises, a new story began to be told. According to Sister Mary, once the war was over, efforts were made by the community to restore the cemetery the best that they could. This could be seen through the several memorials made by tombstones misplaced during the destruction caused by the Nazis. Unable to place these stones with their proper owner(s), they were refurbished in a way that allowed for them to recognize not only who they once stood for, but for the larger community of souls lost during the Shoah. Just before leaving the cemetery, Sister Mary and Dr. Procario-Foley guided our attention to the grave of the last Jewish resident of Oświęcim. As tragic as this news may have been, seeing the grave was incredibly powerful, as it symbolized both the devastation of the Shoah and the resilience of the Jews. Covered in stones (a Jewish tradition for remembering and honoring the deceased), this grave may have marked the end of Oświęcim’s Jewish population, but it also demonstrated that just because the Jews were no longer being represented physically, their influence throughout the town remained.  

Festival of Life Mural

This idea was further exemplified at the next stop on our tour: a mural dedicated to the Festival of Life. An annual celebration held in Oświęcim, this gathering was designed as a means of demonstrating and encouraging the further development of “peaceful relations beyond cultural and state borders where there is no place for racism, anti-Semitism, and other forms of xenophobia” (http://lifefestival.pl/en/about-festival). Held in the town home to the largest Nazi concentration and extermination camp, this celebration of diversity indicates just how far Oświęcim has come since the Holocaust. In an effort to establish the town as one of hope rather than despair, this festival encourages those who attend to remember the unfathomable acts that took place within its borders by showing them just how much the town has grown. Using the arts as a medium to unite the variety of individuals it attracts, Oświęcim’s Life Festival combines cultures from around the globe, educating each attendee on the history of the Holocaust, and thus exemplifying the importance of tolerance – a mindset the once Nazi controlled town lacked, but has since reacquired.

By: Kade Lamontagne

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