Monday, February 2, 2015

"Arbeit Macht Frei"



By Jeffrey Berger


These days the sunlight almost seems total.  A few men and women, trees,
stand between heaven and earth.  In the light of their shadows
we others are reading, still, messages the dead have stopped sending,
these days of almost fatal sunlight.  (Henry Braun, The Vergil Woods)


Seventy years have passed since the liberation of Auschwitz.  This post remembers a maternal great-grandfather who perished in the Holocaust.  It honors missing persons of a family tree whose fates will never be known. It commemorates innocent victims of persecution whose life possibilities were cut mercilessly short.

The exact death toll at Auschwitz remains elusive. Many inmates were undocumented, and large amounts of incriminating evidence were destroyed in the final weeks of war. The Auschwitz-Birkenau State Museum sets the official record:

1.1 million - total victims
960,000 - Jewish victims
438,000 - Hungarian Jews
300,000 - Polish Jews
69,000 - French Jews
60,000 - Dutch Jews
55,000 - Greek Jews
75,000 - non-Jewish Poles
21,000 - Romani
15,000 - Soviet POWs
15,000 - disabled and other

The Red Army liberated Auschwitz on January 27, 1945. Only 7,500 emaciated prisons were found alive among 600 corpses, 370,000 men's suits, 837,000 women's garments, and 8.5 tons of human hair.  Among the survivors who recovered and resumed full and productive lives:
Elie Wiesel (awarded the Nobel Peace Prize in 1986), Simone Veil (served as President of the European Parliament), Rudolf Vrba and Alfréd Wetzler (escapees who saved an estimated 120,000 to 200,000 inmates), Thomas Buergenthal (judge of the International Court of Justice), Imre Kertesz (writer and Nobel Laureate in Literature for 2002), Joel Lebowitz (mathematician and physicist who won the prestigious Max Planck award), Vladek and Anja Spiegelman (parents of American cartoonist Art Spiegelman), and Jack Tramiel (founder of Commodore International) ...
Little is known of my great-grandfather.  He was an author, a philosopher and college professor living in Prague when the Nazi army occupied Czechoslovakia.  No letters or literary works survive apart from anecdotal accounts handed down by word of mouth – until the trial of Adolph Eichmann in 1961 revealed his fate.

According to trial testimony, Eichmann ordered the SS to stop a deportation train headed for Auschwitz.  Aboard that ill-fated train was a 'nettlesome agitator' for human rights. Eichmann ordered his execution by firing squad. This man was my great-grandfather. 

Everyday in 1961, my mother and grandmother watched the Eichmann trial on TV.  I recall their stunned silence when the name of my great-grandfather — and his final fate — was revealed during trial testimony. A family chapter was finally closed.
Are some people more predisposed to obedience than others - willing to follow even the most heinous orders?  Yale University research psychologist Stanley Milgram tested this hypothesis, with disturbing results:
The percentage of test subjects willing to inflict pain on command was constant across all population groups – ranging from 61 to 66 percent regardless of ethnicity, gender, nationality, or circumstance.
Milgram’s experiment reveals a grim truth about human nature: Everywhere in the world are people innately capable of unspeakable savagery.  Genocide did not end with World War II.  It happened again in Tibet (1959-1966), in Cambodia (1975-1979), in Bosnia-Herzegovina (1992-1995), and in Rwanda (1994).  Even today, atrocities continue unabated in Darfur, Iraq, and Syria.  The record of human history is long and grim:
Wars of aggression and oppression; true believers versus infidels, Christians against Christians, Muslims against Muslims; vainglorious empires, colonialism, greed; whites enslave blacks; Nazis murder Jews, Hutus slaughter Tutsis; inquisitions, persecutions, pogroms, endless cycles of retribution and revenge and unrelenting violence … since the beginning of time.
Yet, there are deniers and revisionists who still dispute the indisputable, and madmen who target innocent civilians. Is one massacre worse than another? Does the tragic history of one people invalidate the tormented history of another?  Either no account is valid, or every account is valid and deserving of remembrance.

Consider the diversity of life that has evolved on Earth over eons of time.  Here is a single species united in time but divided in language, culture, customs and tribe.  ‘Ecce homo.’  Behold the lot of humankind constantly at war, each committing acts of violence upon another.

Arbeit macht frei.’  Perversely cynical words intended to exterminate, not liberate. Words more aptly inscribed above the Gates of Hell: 'Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.'

How will humanity ever find peace?  Shall we segregate people by geography, by race, religion, and custom?  Shall we end all commerce and cultural exchange?  Shall we prevent the free migrations of people and the free exchange of human invention?  Or …
Shall we learn how to integrate and tolerate – even appreciate – the diversity and rich cultural heritage of all humankind?
There will be no peace, no hope, no freedom from tyranny and war until people come to terms with their darkest impulses.

© February 1, 2015

7 comments:

  1. Hope springs eternal... We have hope.

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  2. I'm not much in the hope department these days. I don;t think the cycle of hate, abuse, war and death goes on and on. We never learn and it never ends. We can only speak out loud and clear as those before us who agitated for human rights or offered to die in another's place. If we know the stories of our people then we know their blood also runs in our veins and we can hope that when our time comes we can rise to the occasion as they did and make future generations proud to be related to us.

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  3. We gave hope, but yes rockync, it does seem clear the only thing we learn from human history is how to repeat it. We do it well.

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  4. lasciate ogni speranza, voi ch'entrate. What else do we need to know of the world?

    Driving to Dachau from Munich in 1965, reminders of the war were still around: bullet holes in the walls and the like, but most traces of the massive destruction had been erased in the previous 20 years except the death camp. It's hard, given the proximity to a major city and populated suburbs to believe that "we didn't know" as many still maintained in those days. It was a grizzly place, a cemetery without the sense of peace, as hopeless as hell but unlike Hell, it's real. I have a photo, taken on a dank, shivering cold spring morning: mud and wire and desolation. What a piece of work is man indeed.

    I knew a survivor of Dachau although it was not for many years afterward that I found out where he had been. He was an orchestra conductor and founded a music school, among other things. He hated Europe, and when I mentioned to him that I was about to travel to Germany, he asked, in a hard voice, why? I thought he thought it would be wasted on such as I am, but in fact to him it was still the gate to Hell.

    My ancestors got out long before the Nazis, but I did lose a great great grandfather in a pogrom and probably there were remaining relatives I'll never know about, but my great grandfather who came here in the 1890s started a society to aid his small town in Poland during those days. All for naught in the end, of course.

    Why such things happen is more than I have the will to talk about, even being the misanthrope and cynic that I am, but certainly such horrors live in our deepest essence and things like religion and morals and high principles are as apt to foster and provoke and enable and ennoble them. It can happen here and when it does arrive, wrapped in a flag and carrying a Bible, I am ready. It's an obligation.


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  5. I knew this was an extremely serious and personal post when I first read it. Went to sleep. It provoked a forty-two year-old memory. My best friend in 1972, a thirteen-year old redhead, had invited me to go to the downtown library. We were seated on the floor as he enthusiastically showed to me a large book bound in library orange, with a great number of horrifying photographs simply entitled, "Andersonville." Just barely thirteen years old and a fairly happy-go-lucky and carefree fellow, I was unsure as to why he had decided to show this very frightening book to me. I had assumed that he was going to show me something quite wonderful. I, of course, felt an immediate distaste and perhaps an appropriate amount of incredulity as to man's inhumanity to mankind, but left the library to drive home with his mother much as I had left that morning. Did not understand what I had just been taught. Union prisoners-of-war chained to each other as they died from scurvy and diarrhea in the most absolutely inhumane and deprived conditions that one could possibly imagine. The death toll would have been much greater than the thirteen thousand dead if not for the fact that friends and societies were able to help care for at least a portion of the emaciated prisoners through a network of providers of food, clothing and shelter.

    Why did Paul choose to teach this to me at such a tender age? I guess I understood why a couple of days ago. Because he wished for me to know that such things had happened within the borders of our own thirty-five states in 1863? I think that, somehow, it was a great deal more than just that, given that as a youngster, I had no complete information whatsoever as to the scale and horror of the Jewish holocaust.

    I will never really know.

    Mrs. Junior was quite surprised and amazed when I explained to her the fate of your maternal great-grandfather. My great-grandfather was a printer of his own newspapers and pamphlets in the early twentieth century living in Indiana, perhaps nettlesome in his own way. Yet he suffered no fate greater than that all of his published papers were burned by his own daughter.

    There is a morality lesson to be learned. It does not seem that we are very close to this goal.

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  6. Reading it again, it's still poignant

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  7. And still again. I don't expect Trump to bring back Auschwitz, but he doesn't need to. We're ever so much more refined these days and we've learned so much about how to get away with things and make things unhappen and blame shift and prosperity look like penury and sunset look like dawn. Who wants to do this any more. If we lived for a thousand years, progress might be apparent, but at my three score and 12 it seems to be a dream. The kind where you wake up sad to see that's all it was.

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