Aarron Walter

Wednesday afternoon I caught a flight to Krakow, a city I have been curious about for some time. It maintains an old world feel with its castle, Medieval cathedrals, and the remnants of a city wall with a looming turret. About 1 and a half hour bus ride from Krakow through a primarily agricultural countryside peppered with little villages are Auschwitz and Birkenau in the towns of Oswiecim and Brzeziuka. Though thousands of Poles, Russian POWs, Gypsies, and handicapped people were murdered in these two concentration camps, the greatest number of victims were European Jews from as far as Norway. 75% of Jews who arrived in Auschwitz and Berkenau were killed immediately in the gas chambers. I have always felt it important that I visit these places, maybe to pay my respects or to learn so I might do my part to make sure others don’t forget what happened.

The primary camp is Auschwitz, famous for the cynical sign above its primary entrance that reads “Arbeit Macht Frei” or “Work Makes Freedom”. It was first a military camp before World War I for the Polish army, but after the Nazi invasion of Poland was appropriated and converted into a concentration camp. The irony of this place is it is actually quite beautiful, with its two story barracks of brick (originally 1 story, second floor added by Nazis in preperation for more prisoners), and slender trees (added after liberation of the camp). Its history is anything but beautiful. We learned of stories of maniacal medical experiments on inmates, the initial tests of the killing gas Cyclon B, starvation, hangings, humiliation, and torture. Birkenau is the massive, 425 acre camp that we think of when we hear the word Auschwitz. This is where most of the murders took place, where the trains unloaded thousands, sending nearly all Jews directly to the gas chambers and crematoria on either side of the tracks. The killing chambers famously disguised as showers were dynamited in the last days of World War II by the Nazis who wanted to cover their crimes as the Russian army rapidly advanced and ultimately liberated the camps. There were 40 other camps in the area as well that served the “Final Solution“.

People from around the world were visiting the camps, but it seems for different reasons. Some were there to pay respects, others were satisfying curiosity as if gawking at a car wreck. I saw some snapping photos of their grinning, travel mates in front of the entrance gate or the ominous halt signs with their warnings of death as if they were at Disney world posing with Mickey Mouse. For me this was as hurtful to witness as the relics of mass murder as it defiles the memory victims and their suffering. In the remaining crematoria where thousands of lives were erased visitors were talking casually, even chuckling at their unrelated conversations rather than being present to reflect on what happened in the space.

What I take from the experience is not only the imperative to remember, but also to learn from our past. I couldn’t help but consider Darfur, and Bosnia and wonder how the hell mass genocide could happen yet again. The moral of the story is respect and tolerance for all. To some degree it has inspired some pride in my home country of the USA where millions of immigrants melt into one big pot daily and somehow find common ground in disparate cultures. I also feel shame for our failures and equally dark past in slavery, and racism that persists today.

I sign off with a much repeated statement that sticks with me more now than ever.

“Those who cannot learn from history are doomed to repeat it.”

- George Santayana

Written 2 years, 3 months ago in Travel. | Respond | Comments Feed: RSS 2.0 | Trackback