The Lessons From Auschwitz Project has given me cause to look closely at the events during the
years in which the Holocaust was a concern many people had once been unaware of. There are 4 stages run as part of the course: an Orientation Seminar is held to inform the students involved in the programme about the Holocaust, as well as briefing groups on the lives of thousands of people prior to the Holocaust. A survivor comes to explain their experiences, to the best of their ability, since it's understood that reminiscing on the past is a great pain. The LFA Project stresses the importance of the exploration and education of people in order to provide societies with a sense of the insurmountable importance of letting others know about the atrocities of the past so that they won't be repeated. An admittedly exhausted, but still sensitive and thoughtful idea that the project has been working on is to highlight how the perpetrators and the victims alike, were both humans; re-humanizing the victims is a primary aim just as it is showing that the perpetrators are just like you and I: the only difference is that the morals we hold today are much stronger and less morally corrupt than the malicious values held by the Nazis.
During the second part of the course all the students involved (in my case, over 200) are flown over to Auschwitz to experience the environment for themselves. After arriving in Poland, hired buses drove us away from Krakow airport to Oświęcim where we split into groups to discuss the sight we
saw when entering a Polish graveyard. Facts filtered my thoughts as the silence took over and each member stood focused on the setting around them. Something that poignantly sticks out to me is the repeated fact, about how the gravestones had originally been used to pave roads back during WW2/ start of the Holocaust, before they were repaired and replaced following this major event.
After visiting the graveyard we travelled to Auschwitz 1 where, in groups, we were each led by one of the site experts. As soon as I passed the disreputable and ill-famous 'gates of hell' (reading Arbeit Macht Frei- Work Makes You Free) it was hard to not think about the history behind such iconic infrastructure. Being able to face an environment steeped in history takes a strong sense of insight and maturity in order to truly invest your thoughts into the events of the past. So it was with great difficulty that I tried to picture how with each step, others had taken the same path as I,but rather with a different end. Entering different buildings, stocked with photos and collections of thousands of the victims' properties caused immediate shock to many people within the group; I felt transfixed more than anything. I knew of several atrocities back when I did extensive research on those terrible years during my GCSEs. So already I was aware of the ignominious actions of the Nazis and somewhat, less affected by such stories because over-exposure to the testimonies and facts has led to desensitization. It is grossly sad that I couldn't empathise with the victims when looking upon the mass of items such as bags, glasses and hair. More than anything however, I did feel an immense sickness. And that sickness was one of pure detestation at how the Germans could be so sadistic to believe the extinction of a race and the 'cleansing' of opponents to the Nazi regime was the way forward. Building a superior race is another step closer to totalitarianism, limiting freedom, a value deep rooted in every individual; to take that away from people makes whatever character you are, a morally corrupt one.
The Nazis aimed to de-humanize the victims, making them retain less worth than an animal. Starvation cells beneath the rooms in which the SS would confer once held the victims locked away, sometimes in cramped cells that would require crawling into like a defeated dog. Only several metres from the camp lay the gas chamber, and a house that once belonged to Rudolph Hoess and his family, which he called his 'paradise'. It took an insolent man to sit in luxury while people suffered just outside those walls. Of course, this twisted form of character, radiating from many Nazis, doesn't need to prove they are less than human, instead it shows how the perpetrators lost sight of their humanity in the years the Holocaust became an out of control entity.
I digress. On another note, the final visit of the trip was to the camp that's widely recognised as being the largest mass extermination camp in Europe: Auschwitz 2- Birkenau. You're more than likely to have seen pictures of this camp, known for the infamous watch tower, which bridges over the rail track that provided links from stations around Europe, transporting hundreds of thousands of Jews to the camp every single day. One thing which is overlooked, at least particularly under the knowledge I had, is the immensity of the place. Standing looking out from the watch tower you get a feel for the enormity of Auschwitz Birkenau as well as the twisted dedication made by the Germans to exterminating the Jews-which is emphasised through witnessing such a scale. What is most surprising, beyond the eerie wonder at how thousands of people have died where you stand, is the absence of an atmosphere. Admittedly this sounds contradictory. Essentially, knowing what happened at Auschwitz makes seeing it all the more menacing. Our understanding of the events that unfolded then colours our opinion of the place also. Yet when I say that there's an absence I mean to say that beyond the animosity stimulated towards the perpetrators, it's hard to believe that so much has happened in the place you're in. Out of all the people in the world, I was one individual out of billions to know about Auschwitz; it was beyond surreal to have set foot in a landmarked location, known for one of the worst crimes to have been elicited in to the world. Imagining what happened is impossible simply because it feels as if nothing had happened in Auschwitz. Having walked around the site for over an hour I felt comfortable to wander the grounds. I hate to say it. I really do. But that is why I am still trying to find a way of appropriating my feelings into a clear point that I can take away from the visit.
Ultimately this is a place of genocide. The faith of those involved was tested beyond every means. In the last 20 minutes or so of being in the camp, a local rabbi spoke to us, where we listened to prayers and stood silently listening to a song sung in Hebrew, marking the deaths of so many innocent lives, and those of whom deserved so much more than what they got.
This post has turned out extensively longer than how I intended to explain the day. But in expressing myself, I hope to have given you an impression of what it means to consider the events of an atrocious place, with a clear and thoughtful consideration behind the means by which it is explored. When I began the course I chose to factor in the psychology behind the Nazis' actions. Being an aspiring writer, I also wanted to open myself up to places such as Auschwitz so that I may visit the site and feel the environment pulsating with an ominous air, like we read in the fiction I aspire to write myself. I did not find either of these things. In fact, exactly the opposite.
From Auschwitz 1, I walked around the buildings trying so desperately to believe that so many impossibly bad things could have happened there. I even approached one of the windows from inside, picturing how it might have been for the Germans to stand exactly where I was, watching from the window as people drew haggard breaths and weakly limped by as fellow Nazis jeered and callously pushed them to the ground. I have no way of knowing the exact details and this mere illusion is purely fiction, I know. It is not something you can read in a book. The Holocaust was real and it happened. I know. But with every attempt I could never come close to picturing it. That's when I began to realise that no matter what people say, no matter what we learn about the past and history itself, we are always going to have a detached view of it. That's when it becomes something as far away as the fiction we read. In theory, that it why we should be reminding people of the past and showing them that they mustn't forget what has happened, especially the Holocaust: because we are so detached from the reality of it that it blends in with the fiction we read.
At Auschwitz 1 I felt contempt for the Nazis. There was a chilling atmosphere when I approached the starvation cells and entered the gas chamber. But visiting Auschwitz Birkenau was altogether different; as I have previously touched upon before, there was a shockingly plain sense of absence about the place. On a religious ground, people could say that the absence shows us that the victimsare at peace. But it also makes the chaos of the Holocaust itself more of a tragedy because for so many to die, there is no feeling left to indicate that thousands of people suffered at such a place. Despite this, there was no negative air to be felt and that's when it hit me that it is so easy to forget. In my desperate attempts to imagine the events as if a mirage would replay before my eyes, this sense of detachment became even more noticeable.
Going back to my previous point, I think we should all learn from the Holocaust in as much of a reflective way as I have done. If that means, visiting Auschwitz to realise this, then so be it. But what's important to acknowledge is that without education, we can't learn from the past, and without reflecting on the past we too cannot learn to divide the humanity of reality and the humanity in the fiction we read. The Holocaust is a question of humanity, and it only takes yourself to decide on which path you follow when it comes to trusting what place society and being human means to you. It's in reflecting on the past that we can determine the humanity within our society.
