So here we stand once again before the gates of Auschwitz. Sixty-five years ago the Russian army liberated this camp. What, we might ask, did they first experience as they approached the gates emblazoned with the unforgettable motif Arbeit Macht Frei?
Contrary to what most people think, the first experience of Auschwitz for the Russians was not the scenes that would later become immortalized in still photographs and film footage. Rather, it was the overpowering stench of death carried in the air as the soldiers approached from ten miles away. When they finally reached the camp gates, the scene of utter desolation could barely be believed, even by hardened soldiers who had survived the Battle of Stalingrad and witnessed its horrific carnage.
Bodies were stacked in places ten feet high; young children, clothed in rags, stumbled from the barracks, emaciated skeletons; Young men and women, some only in their teens, looked aged well beyond their years, haggard, lice infested and covered in grime. The footage that cameraman Alexander Vorontsov and director Irmgard von zur Muhlen, took that afternoon, offered us images that have become indelibly stamped on Western memory. In addition to the utter destitution of the scene, the camera pans across mountains of personal possessions confiscated from the prisoners — nearly half a million suits and dresses and tens of thousands of eyeglasses. The gas chambers, the portable gallows, the warehouse that held countless bags of human hair ( 7.7 tons of it!) and the glare of the silent survivors as they stared unblinking at the camera, were the living reminders of how western civilization had turned on itself.
But the parallel tragedy of the day is often forgotten. Nine days before the liberation, as the Soviets approached the Auschwitz concentration camp complex, Nazi SS officers forced nearly 60,000 inmates to march west. Only 7,000, too sick and enfeebled, remained in the camps.
The death march of the winter of 1945 was the final gift of the Nazis to Western civilization. Although there were many death marches, from most of the concentration camps such as Buchenwald and Treblinka, the Auschwitz Death March is by far the best known and involved the most inmates. The prisoners, were marched toward Wodzisław Śląski (German: Loslau) and were put on freight trains to other camps. Of the 60,000, 15,000 prisoners died, either through summary execution, exposure or exhaustion, their bodies thrown into ditches or left to rot on the road where they fell. They marched in the bitterly cold Polish winter 180 miles in 45 days, with very little to eat or drink and no warmth, sleeping in open fields, barns, warehouses–anywhere they could find shelter along the way. They finally arrived at Camp Hirschberg, near the Czechoslovakian border. Many of the survivors of the march would not be liberated until the very last days of the war.
There is no color film that survives from the day of liberation at Auschwitz. That is perhaps appropriate since color itself, a symbol of vibrancy and life, had become the nemesis of the Nazi operation at Auschwitz. The drabness of the camp, its dank, gray barracks, the colorless prison uniforms and the stark parade grounds represent the Nazi attempt to erase any semblance of normalcy from daily life and convince Auschwitz’s inmates that this new world was the only one they would ever know.
Yet if anything stood in defiance at Auschwitz, it was the resilience of nature itself – the blue of the sky, the green of the nearby forests and the warmth of the sun. Even in the bitterest months of incarceration, the surviving inmates took heart from these reminders that the earth still spun on its axis, that the seasons would still arrive and depart, and that nature, indifferent to Nazi terror, was the one thing that that terrible military machine could not control. This knowledge infused them with the hope that the Nazi regime was itself transient and would one day be swept away by the tide of history.
Such a moment of realization is beautifully captured in a scene from Viktor Frankl’s book Man’s Search for Meaning. Frankl once visited a young woman in Theresienstadt’s infirmary. The young woman knew that she would die in the next few days. But when Frankl talked to her, she was cheerful in spite of this knowledge:
”I am grateful that fate has hit me so hard,” she told me. “In my former life I was spoiled and did not take spiritual accomplishments seriously.” Pointing through the window of the hut, she said, “This tree here is the only friend I have in my loneliness.” Through that window she could see just one branch of a chestnut tree, and on the branch were two blossoms. “I often talk to this tree,” she said to me. I was startled and didn’t quite know how to take her words. Was she delirious? Did she have occasional hallucinations? Anxiously I asked her if the tree replied. “Yes.” What did it say to her? She answered, “It said to me, ‘I am here-I am here-I am life, eternal life.”
The will to live, the determination to defy terror and resist evil, takes its inspiration from many sources, but among the most important of them is the sense that human life has purpose and free will is our most important weapon in affirming it. As Frankl himself states, “Everything can be taken from a man but the last of the human freedoms – to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.”
We who are blessed with greater freedoms than any other human beings in history, might then wish to use this week’s commemoration to recall that nothing in nature, even a couple of blossoms on a chestnut tree, should be taken for granted. We might want to reinforce the notion that humanity’s course, in defiance of the nihilistic fatalism that dominates so much of our culture, derives from the exercise of our free will. And we might want to remember that how we choose to live our lives, as both individuals and communities, will ultimately determine our collective fate.
Many Holocaust victims learned that the art of survival involves more than just putting bread in your mouth. It also embraces a certain moral world view, one which connects one’s being’s fate to another’s and through love, compassion and caring builds unassailable bonds between them. It is a trait, lest we ever forget, that is distinctly human.
The New Miss Manners
February 8, 2010I was interested to see a piece in Saturday’s Wall Street Journal on the latest update to Emily Post’s famous Etiquette (1922). Because of the success of Etiquette, Emily Post’s name became synonymous, at least in North America, with proper manners. Nearly half a century after her death, her name is still invoked in titles of books co-authored by Ms. Post’s great-grand daughter Cindy Post Senning and numerous other members of the extended Post family.
The most recent title to issue from the eponymous Emily Post Institute is Prom and Party Etiquette by Cindy and Peggy Post. The advice that the young women receive in the handbook however would be enough to make old Emily crush her debutante boutonnieres in frustration and despair. Here girls are advised to consider, coolly and honestly, whether bedding a date on prom night is always such a good idea. Of course the question itself suggests that in some cases, such a decision may indeed be a very good idea. The chapter in which this is described is titled ” A Special Act for A Special Evening.” The “act,” the authors seem to be conceding, is going to be performed anyway, so why resist the zeitgeist and appear prudish.
Megan Cox Gordon complains in the Wall Street Journal piece that such moral neutrality from parents, teachers and contemporary guidebooks, creates a moral matrix within which teenagers feel free to make such decisions. She claims that giving children the choice is tantamount to giving them the nod, which is no guidance at all.
This was recently reinforced for me when reading Sharlene Azam’s book Oral Sex Is the New The Kiss Goodnight. I was struck by one passage, early in the book, which describes how young girls from prosperous middle class neighborhoods, casually fall into promiscuity and then, in certain cases, into prostitution.
” The biggest surprise was their parents’ complicity. They witnessed their daughters coming home with new clothing, jewelry and pockets full of cash, and often did nothing. These parents feel powerless to change their daughters’ behavior because they have surrendered their authority to pop culture, celebrities and the Internet. “
Diana West complains of the same malaise in The Death of the Grown Up. She reports how a parent in Pennsylvania went to court to overturn her 13-year- old’s expulsion from her middle class school for having performed oral sex on a 13-year-old boy on a school bus. The mother purportedly complained that the expulsion was not fair because the school was” unclear, in its written policies that having oral sex on a school bus is unacceptable behavior.” In another case, an upper middle class couple were discovered having hired a $345 -an-hour stripper to have dairy toppings licked off her breasts while she lay on her back on the home patio while both they and a crowd of 15-year-old boys gawked.
Parental absenteeism was also culpable in an incident in my own neighborhood in Los Angeles when a 15-year- old girl from tony Milken High School in Bel Air was knifed to death at a party that had been hurriedly organized upon the departure of the host’s parents for a weekend in Las Vegas. In another incident in the Pico Robertson neighborhood of Los Angeles, a girl from an Orthodox Jewish high school was rushed to hospital with alcohol poisoning after she posted notice on Facebook of a party at her home after her parents departed for the weekend. The party was crashed by 500 people, many of them gang members from East L.A.
The collapse of parental authority and oversight is evident throughout our society as we surrender our moral watch of our children to the Internet and MTV. And as Rochelle Gurstein notes in The Repeal of Reticence:
” Repeated exposure to indecency, ultimately inures people and threatens to make all of society shameless, in the precise sense that it considers nothing sacred.”
Maybe that is something Emily Post’s heirs might have considered in their new book. Rather than attempting to mollify our teenagers by attempting to see life through their eyes, perhaps we need to begin reclaiming our own sense of “adulthood” by returning to a world where the three ‘ r’s’ - restraint, reticence and rectitude – are not regarded as the outdated remnants from an age of prudery, but the foundational principles of civilized conduct.