‘Remember only that I was innocent and, just like you, mortal on that day, I, too, had had a face marked by rage, by pity and joy, quite simply a human face!’ Benjamin Fondane, murdered at Auschwitz-Birkenau in 1944. This quote is displayed on the wall at Auschwitz 1.
When I was in sixth form and studying for my History A-Level I took part in a project called ‘Lessons from Auschwitz’ which took post-16 students on a guided tour to Krakow in Poland to visit the town of Oświęcim and the concentration camps at Auschwitz-Birkenau. The aim of the trip was to learn about the history of the Holocaust by seeing first-hand some of the places where the atrocities took place. As part of the project, we heard testimony from survivors and were invited to reflect on the relevance of the Holocaust in the present day, as well as share our learning with others upon our return and completion of the programme.
Nearly ten years on, what I saw and experienced on that trip is still in my mind and it is especially pertinent as we mark Holocaust Memorial Day this week on the 27th of January. According to the Holocaust Memorial Day Trust, the 27th of January commemorates the liberation of Auschwitz-Birkenau on 27th January 1945 and is a day to remember the six million Jewish people (men, women and children) murdered by the Nazis and the millions of others who faced (and were killed under) Nazi persecution. It is also a time where we are encouraged to learn about other genocides in Cambodia, Rwanda, Bosnia and Darfur.
It is hard to put into words what it feels like to walk around Auschwitz-Birkenau. If you have visited yourself or been to another site of such extreme devastation you probably understand what I mean. Auschwitz I in particular felt like it was frozen in time. The buildings still stand as they were during the events of the Holocaust and as you walk you can imagine what it would have been like for those held in captivity and killed there. One thing that stuck in my mind was how cold it felt. I went in November, and despite wearing multiple layers there was still a harsh chill in the air. I remember our guide telling us to consider how those imprisoned here would have felt this same cold so much worse than we did, wearing nothing but the thin, striped uniforms all year round.
Another thing I noticed as we looked around Auschwitz were the large glass display cases around the site which contained the shoes, glasses, clothes, and personal belongings of those who died at Auschwitz-Birkenau. For me, this alone helped to make the atrocities that took place here much more tangible, personal, and human rather than just events you read about in a textbook or abstract numbers of people. I remember seeing a set of keys and thinking about how lucky I was to be able to go home that same night, while millions of others would never see their home or their loved ones again.
The main take away of the trip, and the programme itself, was to remember the victims of the Holocaust not as a number but as human beings; each one unique, each one special and each with their own story. The aim of helping us to see the people behind the genocide was clear as you walked through the camps, with the words of victims displayed on the walls, which in many places were accompanied by the drawings of imprisoned children. It put the emphasis on the human cost of the genocide rather than a clinical approach where we might focus purely on the number of people who died. As a result, the devastation can be hard to comprehend but it’s important that we try.
Dietrich Bonhoeffer was a theologian and pastor during the Nazi-occupation of Germany. He actively, and vocally, opposed Hitler and the persecution and murder of Jewish people under his regime. He did not falter and refused to stay silent in ‘the face of evil itself.’ He believed that ‘not to speak is to speak’ and that ‘not to act is to act’ and his message of ‘costly grace’ that calls us to ‘drive a spoke into the wheel’ of injustice ultimately cost him his life. What can we learn from Bonhoeffer’s example in our own contexts as we are faced with modern-day genocides?
Remembering and reflecting on the events of the Holocaust is not only about looking back but also about recognising the warning signs that arise when human lives are reduced to numbers and where silent indifference allows for injustice, persecution, and violence to go unchallenged, sometimes leading to acts of genocide. It has become impossible to ignore the scenes of suffering we see coming from Gaza as the genocide there lingers on. Images of displaced families, destroyed homes, and the loss of life at an insurmountable rate confront us daily and it can be hard to see the human side of the devastation amongst the ever-increasing statistics of death and destruction. The danger, as we learn from the Holocaust, is not just the events themselves but the increasing desensitivity to them over time and the inability people feel to speak up. While it would be wrong to directly compare the events of the Holocaust and the genocide in Gaza, we must still confront the same dangerous patterns: dehumanization, silence, and the normalization of suffering. When the world turns a blind eye to human suffering and stops seeing the people behind the numbers and when we are silent or indifferent we allow these acts of genocide to continue. Today, and every day, we must speak truth to power, inspired by the work of Bonhoeffer to challenge injustice. Behind every number is a human life, a person loved and created by God with a story a unique human experience who deserves the same rights as we do. Surely if those committing these atrocities remembered that they wouldn’t treat any life as disposable.