In 1945, Josef Perl, a survivor of Auschwitz, returned to his home in Veliky Bochkov in what was then Czechoslovakia. As he approached the family home, the door opened and a neighbour appeared. He was pointing a shotgun at Josef and demanded to know what he wanted. Josef had hoped to find some family left, but the neighbour shouted at him to go, that the house belonged to him now, that Josef was not welcome. He aimed his gun at Josef and said, ‘Leave now, or I’ll finish Hitler’s job for him.’
After the liberation of the camps, as the world began to understand the horrors of the Holocaust, there was a sense that antisemitism had been exposed for what it was; we had learned where it could lead, that it could never be a part of our society again. The experience of Josef and many others in returning to their home towns showed that antisemitism did not end with the Nazis. Sadly it continues to this day.
According to the latest figures from the Community Security Trust, 2014 was the worst year on record for antisemitic hate crimes. What is clear from these statistics is that the conflict in the Middle East last summer led to a backlash against Jews here, in Britain. Shops were vandalised, cemeteries desecrated and synagogues targeted. There were protests outside Jewish stores stocking Israeli goods and talk of boycotts – particularly uncomfortable for many Jews who remember what boycotts meant in times past. It should be of concern to us all that a third of the antisemitic crimes reported in July at the height of the conflict invoked Holocaust language or imagery. There were scenes of protesters shouting ‘Jews to the gas chambers’ and, on social media, ‘Hitler was right’. In some quarters, even among our political representatives, it became commonplace to equivocate between the Holocaust, the systematic mass murder of six million people, and a complex political situation in the Middle East.
In January, the attack at the Charlie Hebdo office and the murder of four Jewish people in a kosher supermarket in Paris shocked us all. Just a few weeks ago we were filled with horror to hear of the attack in Copenhagen which left two dead, including a security guard volunteering outside a synagogue. Sadly, the ideology and hatred that allowed the Holocaust to happen is still flourishing in communities across the world. While we are fortunate that in Britain the Jewish community is very much part of the fabric of our society, even Jews here feel just that little bit less secure than before.
So what does it mean for all of us working in the field of Holocaust education, when antisemitism is on the rise once again? Learning about the Holocaust is not a quick fix for societies’ problems, and it is not the ‘cure’ for antisemitism. But Holocaust education, and understanding where antisemitism ultimately led, is a starting point for young people to consider their actions and responsibilities. Through our Lessons from Auschwitz Project, we have taken over 25,000 students to visit Auschwitz-Birkenau. The change in these young people when they return is amazing to see. Many become committed to fighting antisemitism, racism and prejudice in their own communities.
A few weeks ago we marked the 70th anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz-Birkenau, on Holocaust Memorial Day. Thousands gathered in the snow at Auschwitz, to commemorate one of the darkest times in our history. I was so proud of the way that people in Britain – and all over the world – came together to remember this important day. It is a reminder that so many people in this country are committed to never forget the Holocaust. It was powerful to see schools, families and communities and our political leaders take a moment to reflect on the continuing importance of the Holocaust.
Now, more than ever, we must remember and educate about where antisemitism led during dark days. But beyond that we also have a collective responsibility to protect the integrity of the Holocaust by speaking out when we see it being used, misused and outrightly denied – whether on social media, in our own communities, or in the lazy language employed by some of our politicians in the chamber and elsewhere. In doing so, we honour the memory of the six million Jewish people who were murdered by the Nazis, and ensure that the legacy of survivors like Josef Perl will live on.
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Karen Pollock is chief executive of the Holocaust Educational Trust
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