I Have Stood Inside A Gas Chamber...

Holocaust denial is deadly. Talking with people who claim that the Holcoaust did not happen is noxious. Nowhere did that become more evident to me as when I visited three concentration camps this summer in Poland.

During the spring semester of 1999, as part of a class at UNR, I had the opportunity to interview two Holocaust deniers living in Carson City, Nevada. I was astonished at what I heard. The two men - one of whom claimed to be a physician - did not give me their last names or their phone numbers. They told me intricate tales about various "conspiracies" involving Jews and communists and wove a tale of unbelievable proportions. Their explanations ranged from the pseudo-scientific to the ridiculous and were heavily influenced by notions of white supremacy. To my surprise, they did acknowledge that many Jews and other prisoners lost their lives in camps, they claimed that these losses were due to the Allied bombing of railways, which prevented much needed provisions and medical supplies from reaching these "work" camps.
These Holocaust deniers attributed the multitudes of other deaths to epidemics such as typhus. They explained that the Nazis had no choice but to burn the "deceased" in an attempt to stop diseases from spreading. They also "explained" in detail that the Nazis could not have burnt so many bodies in the infamous crematorium ovens, since there was a critical shortage of fuel. One of the men, in grandfatherly fashion, scolded me for my "lack of evidence" explaining that it takes 30 pounds of coal to burn a body. And this far exceeded the supply. Although he could not offer further support for his statement, I in turn could not contest his claim.

During the interview, it became clear that they considered my references to gas chambers, Zyklon-B and millions of deaths as totally irrational and without substance. According to them, the resources of the Nazis were aimed at the war effort and not at the annihilation of European Jewry. Over and over, they pulled out arguments about "Jewish conspiracy" and even went so far as to claim that the communists themselves built the crematorium ovens in order to embarrass and implicate the Nazis after the war.

This, unfortunately, is typical of the way Holocaust deniers operate. They lie and fabricate pseudo-scientific "facts." And when one doesn’t know enough to counter the lies, deniers score points. Studying the Holocaust and other genocides can be depressing. But talking to people who deny the occurrence of such barbarity is even more disheartening. No matter what I might have said to them, I don’t believe I could ever have convinced them that the Holocaust indeed happened. But, still, listening as they "disputed" confidently what is known to be factual was disconcerting and uncomfortable for me. All my attempts to make them understand failed. Holocaust deniers make slick arguments and I can understand how they persuade people who are naïve enough to believe them. As I talked with those two men, I promised myself to find facts to back up my arguments and refute their lies.

These are some of the reasons why the impact of my experiences in Poland last summer will stay with me forever. I went to Poland to teach English to teenagers. I looked forward to meeting new people, to seeing the Polish countryside and visiting historical landmarks. I did all of that; but I also found another, very specific reality - memories of which I brought home along with the many souvenirs of my journey.

As part of my trip, I was able to visit the sites of three former concentration camps. The first was on a field trip with the young students to whom I had been teaching English. Although many of them had grandparents who had been in the camps, few had visited a camp themselves. The camp was Stutthof, the first Nazi concentration camp to be constructed outside of the Third Reich’s territory. It was smaller than I expected, but the henchmen there had still managed to murder some 65,000 of the 110,000 prisoners who had passed through these gates of death.

To a certain extent, the students acted as a kind of buffer for my experience at Stutthof. I had to keep them together as a group and make sure they kept up with the guide. With these things on my mind, I failed, at first, to fully understand my surroundings and the story we were told. As we viewed displays within the wooden barracks, the guide told us of the camp’s history and how it had been transformed from a prison camp detaining mostly Poles to a death camp that burned piles of bodies in the woods whenever the crematorium ovens couldn’t "keep up" with the deadly toll from the gas chamber. We learned also about prison guards who received extra vacation days as a reward for shooting prisoners. After the failed attempt on Hitler’s life (July 20, 1944), Stutthof was used to detain those implicated in the plot.

For me, the most notable feature of Stutthof was the single pathway leading between the barracks toward the gas chamber and the crematorium. As we made our way slowly down this path, the chimney of the crematorium loomed ahead of us. All I could think of was how prisoners must have felt as they walked down this path some 55 years ago. It is impossible to imagine what they must have thought - knowing that whenever and wherever this path ended, their life would end as well. How must they have felt! How trapped! How without hope! As I was walking, I tried to imagine what I might have thought: to know that within a few moments everything would be taken away from me - my life, my family, my freedom, my humanity, my dignity, my everything that makes me human.

As we - more than 50 years later - entered the crematorium, I began to notice the reactions of those around me. There were many who were obviously stricken with grief and looked on morosely. To my horror, some smiled gaily and posed for pictures in front of the brick ovens. Others seemed completely disinterested. What can I say? I suppose each of us deals with tragedies - past or present - in our own way.

To me, visiting the site of a former concentration camp can never be like visiting a tourist attraction. Yet, I am thankful to have been able to see such a place with my own eyes. Throughout our walk through Stutthof, I felt numb with grief. My chest felt heavy. But as we came to the memorial monument, which houses a glass case of ashes, bones and skulls found in the woods, I could no longer contain my despair. The tears came - much as they do now as I am writing - and I just couldn’t stop them. I couldn’t accept that mankind had allowed this; and I couldn’t grasp how anyone could ever have the audacity to say it never happened.

As I choked back my sobs and tried to comprehend my emotions, I apologized to the students around me for crying and carrying on. There was no need to apologize. One of the students - who has since become a close friend - dried my tears and told me that we should never apologize for our humanity. Somehow, his simple statement grounded me and reassured me that those of us who study the Holocaust, teach it, or try to prevent genocide, indeed are making a difference.

Holocaust denial must be combatted. We cannot allow future generations to repeat the mistakes of the past. After Stutthof, we all visited Auschwitz as well. There, I stood before the firing wall where so many executions took place. I touched the ovens. I saw rooms filled with shoes, I saw rooms filled with nothing but eyeglasses, toothbrushes and pieces of luggage, baby clothes and hair - all of this once belonged to people who arrived at Auschwitz but never returned home. I have passed beneath the ominous gates of Auschwitz reading Arbeit macht frei (Work brings Freedom). I have stood inside a gas chamber and walked along the railroad at Birkenau where life and death selections were made. I have seen the remains of the dead and I have talked with survivors; and there is no doubt in my mind that what I saw is horrifyingly real.

I have tried to imagine what it must have been like to be there - both as victim and as perpetrator. And, although I cannot begin to imagine either position, I have come away with a better understanding of myself and a renewed sense of purpose. I may never understand what motivates people to carry out mass destruction or what propels others to deny its occurrence. Perhaps, by denying the Holocaust, they side with the perpetrators. Perhaps they don’t want people to know the truth and therefore deny that it happened. Perhaps it is fear that motivates them to deny what I saw with my own eyes.

What I do know is that I must continue to educate myself and help educate others so that Holocaust denial gains no more ground. As Rita Steinhardt Botwinick states in her book, A History of the Holocaust, "When the truth is painful, only the few and the brave will confront it."

Aimée-Jo Thoroughgood
HGPS 400 Student