One of many things I like about the school at which I teach
is that the senior members of staff post a sign outside their offices
indicating what book they are currently reading. One reason for liking this is that it sends
out positive messages to pupils – we want you to read and enjoy reading and
look, we read as well! Another reason is
that it gives a good topic for conversation when meeting them casually, ideally
if I’ve read the book myself, but one can always use a bit of imagination in
the discussion if not. So I had already heard of the book, “The tattooist of
Auschwitz” by Heather Morris when I saw it on the headteacher’s door, and put
it on my list of books to read over the summer.
This is one of the books I read whilst taking things slowly in the first
week, which provoked me to wrestle with some of the very difficult issues the
Holocaust provokes, and some further reading, including some eye witness
accounts – ‘Auschwitz’, ‘A year in Treblinka’ – ‘The man who broke into
Auschwitz’ by Denis Avey, a British prisoner of war, an eye witness account by
a psychiatrist, Viktor Frankl, ‘Man’s search for meaning’, and perhaps mostly
chillingly of all, a book translated by Amy Cravitz by an anonymous Jewish
concentration camp prisoner, ‘The Auschwitz slaughterhouse: the shame of a
Jewish collaborator’. Also, from a
Japanese perspective, there was ‘The rape of Nanking’ by Iris Chang. I’m not entirely sure why I’ve become so interested in the
Holocaust, but three questions particularly come to mind in trying to make
sense of it all, looking at things from three different perspectives. Firstly, from the Nazi perpetrators point of
view, what is it that makes ordinary people do such horrific things? Secondly, from the survivors’ point of view
living for a prolonged period under appalling conditions and the work they were
required to do, where does reasonable end and unreasonable begin? And thirdly, from my own point of view, how
would I have responded had I lived in and around Germany during that period,
either as an Aryan or a Jew, and got caught up with what was going on? I certainly do not claim to have definitive answers to any
of these questions, or anywhere close, but do have some thoughts to share. As always, interested to know what you think
about these difficult issues. Why do normal people do horrific things? Of course, the idea that people commit atrocities against
other people is nothing new. A thousand
years before Christ we can read accounts of Assyrians (roughly modern day Iraq)
torturing their opponents to death, similarly – roughly in date order – the Babylonians,
Persians, Greeks, Romans taking us up to the time of Christ. Of course, colonial times gave rise to some
utterly shameful acts, it may be the case that the trans-Atlantic slave trade
at least initially, tapped into what was already going amongst warring West
African tribes, but that’s hardly an excuse.
More recently we can look to Rwanda and Eastern Europe. The sheer number of people involved in these atrocities
would seem to lead to the conclusion that many ordinary people got involved,
ending up doing things they would never dream of doing in other
circumstances. How does this end up
happening? Let me suggest some partial answers mostly from the perspective of
the European Holocaust during the Second World War which, I think, give some
sense as to what was going on. Things changed little
by little As I understand it, in the aftermath of the First World War
Germany was in chaos with inflation spiralling out of control, making ordinary
living conditions impossible. The
message of the embryonic National Socialist Party, blaming other sovereign
powers and Jews within the country for the situation Germany was in and promising
a brighter future, had an immediate appeal.
Youth clubs to a large extent were precisely that, at least initially,
offering sports and other activities and the political aspects not necessarily in
the forefront. By the time it became
apparent quite what was going on, the Nazi party was well established, well
past the point of no return. I can think of many other examples where things have changed
gradually over time. One might consider
that, in the great scheme of history, this can lead to positive change. In the UK when women first got the vote in
1918 it was not on equal terms with men, that came later. At the time the idea that there would be
women prime ministers, heads of police, bishops and so on was not on the
agenda. But there is a clear warning here. In Ephesians 5:3 St Paul wrote: But among you there must not be even a hint of sexual immorality, or of
any kind of impurity, or of greed, because these are improper for God's holy
people. Not even a hint. Why
not? Because a minor act, which seems
quite reasonable in itself, “Come on, it can’t matter, everybody else is doing
it….” gives rise quite quickly to a new normal state of affairs. From which further deviations can take
place. And quite quickly one ends up in
a situation massively away from the original, but no one step in itself
signalled a problem. Distancing the ‘enemy’ The term ‘Stockholm syndrome’ arose from a bank robbery in
1973, with the 4 robbers keeping 4 bank employees hostage for 6 days before the
incident was brought to an end with the robbers being captured. Somewhat surprisingly, the former hostages
not only refused to give evidence against the robbers but raised money for
their defence, having got to know them during their imprisonment. Other similar instances can be found, including
where the kidnappers develop an attachment for their hostages. How does one avoid the Stockholm syndrome? Keep the ‘enemy’ at a distance. Don’t get to know them. Don’t allow children to play with each
other. Tell stories of how terrible they
are, with as much truth – or ambiguity - as possible to strengthen the
lie. Taking this line of thought a bit further,
don’t think of these other people as people in the same sense as we are, with
the need to love and be loved, but as being only one step above animals, if
that. So, when one does appalling
things, it’s not to other people but to a lower form of life, which is
therefore all right. The abusers have
themselves been abused This point comes out most strongly in ‘The rape of Nanking’,
a Japanese atrocity within China in the late 1930s. Initial training of soldiers at the time was
utterly barbaric, looking to instil a rigid authority structure and unthinking obedience. Having been abused themselves, with violence
having become normal in their lives, how much easier it becomes to inflict this
on other people when given the chance? ‘Everybody else is
doing it’ In August 2011 a man was shot in Tottenham, North London, by
the police, triggering a series of riots across England which lasted for
several days, involving thousands of people.
It appeared that, whilst the first outbreaks of violence arose directly
out of the original shooting, the longer things went on, and the further from North
London the riots took place, the further disattached they became, with a mob
mentality taking hold. Everybody else is
doing it, so why shouldn’t I? In my professional work I have seen groups of people
behaving in ways which any one of the individuals involved would never dream of
doing on their own. Being with others,
working, socialising are all good – but we remain responsible for our own
actions. Why normal people do
horrific things: summary I’m sure there are other factors here, I’ve not explicitly mentioned
acculturation of the young but that is another issue which needs to be
considered. Taken together, one can, I think,
start to see how appalling things can happen.
I’ll return to this in the conclusions to the whole piece. Working as a concentration camp prisoner: what is
reasonable and unreasonable? Leaving aside for a moment the reasons for imprisonment, the
idea that people should work whilst imprisoned would seem to be entirely
reasonable. For the prisoner, it gives
structure to the day and meaningful things to do, in principle gives the
opportunity to learn new skills and to be in a position to give the best
possible account to future employers on release. From the prison authorities’ point of view, it
reduces the costs involved in running a prison, keeps prisoners meaningfully
occupied which then reduces the risk of boredom and rioting. Everyone’s a winner. So, again, leaving aside the reasons for Jews being
imprisoned in concentration camps just for a moment, the idea that prisoners
should work in the kitchens, as cleaners, in reception as new prisoners come
in, would seem to be reasonable. But where does reasonable become unreasonable? One book which implicitly addresses the issue
is ‘The tattooist of Auschwitz’ about a prisoner whose job it was to tattoo
other prisoners with their identity numbers. Should a prisoner agree to do this? Reasons against would include: it’s barbaric,
painful, humiliating, treat people like animals or even as objects, it is
collaborating with the enemy. Reasons in
favour would include that it is going to happen anyway, if one person doesn’t
do it somebody else well, if one person refuses that person puts themselves and
many other people around them in mortal danger.
Given that it is going to happen anyway, the job can be done in a way
which minimises the pain, both physical and psychological. What do you think about this? My own view is that, in the circumstances and
with considerable reservations, this represents a legitimate course of action
for the prisoner to take. Perhaps the most heart wrenching of all the books I’ve read
recently was ‘The Auschwitz slaughterhouse: the shame of a Jewish collaborator’,
written by an anonymous Jewish concentration camp prisoner and translated by Amy
Cravitz. The author, his wife and two
sons ended up in a camp, shortly after arrival his wife was brutally beaten to
death by guards in full view of many other people, with the author being held
down and nobody doing anything to prevent it.
The author then decided that he owed nothing to anybody except himself
and his two sons and collaborated fully including, horrifically, forcing a
fellow prisoner to eat the faeces of the guards. The author and his sons survived the war, only then for one
son shortly afterwards to commit suicide and the other to end up in long term
psychiatric care. The author himself
suffered hugely at the hands of other former camp inmates, but perhaps worst of
all suffered at his own hands with his guilt weighing hugely on him. The book finishes as he explains that the worst
time of day for him is in the morning when he shaved, having to look at himself
in a mirror. Given the way things turned out, would it have been better
for the author to have refused to collaborate, risking his own death and that
of others? It would appear that the answer
is yes, his attempts to look after his sons and himself at the expense of
others turned out badly for everybody, not least his fellow prisoners. Did he cross the line into unreasonable? There is every reason to believe that he did. But where, I wonder, do jobs such as clearing dead bodies
from the gas chambers fit? Should prisoners
have refused to get involved and accepted the consequences of their
refusal? Or should they have accepted
the norms in which they were living, looking to get through a day at a time in
the hope that rescue would eventually come?
I want to answer that they should have refused, but do not feel able to
do so in all conscience. Any help you
can offer in further thinking through these issues would be gratefully
received. What would I have done? In my imagination I have tried to put myself in the position
both of Jews and Aryans during this period and tried to figure out what I would
have done. Of course, this question is
complicated by the fact that, as indicated above, I am not clear what I should
have done. Not having been placed in
such terribly difficult circumstances I really don’t know. I hope and pray that I would acquit myself
well in the eyes of God, my fellows and myself, but cannot be at all sure that I
would do so. Maybe, given the circumstances in which I live, this is not
a helpful question to be asking, giving rise to speculation which is very
difficult, if not impossible, to resolve.
Are there things which we can learn here about how to live our own lives
and what kind of society we would wish to live in? Yes, I think there are, in terms of getting
to know each together, taking responsibility for our own actions, and watching out
for, and being prepared to speak up against, small changes in how we consider things
leading in a negative direction. In
looking to bring meaning out of apparent meaningless, in honouring those who
have died in horrific circumstances both recently and in the past, let’s see what
we can learn for ourselves to make a repeat of these events less likely. |
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