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Why We Call Holocaust The Holocaust
Why We Call Holocaust The Holocaust
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was used by French writers once again at the conclusion of World War II
in much the same manner.8 In this respect, the connotation, "great
destruction" for "holocauste" in post-war France apparently carried no
obvious religious overtones. If the dead were viewed as sacrifices, it was
on the altar of war, not of God, that they were slain. Even more to the
point, presumably the battle dead were not called a "holocauste" in the
sense that they were devoted offerings, but rather more as though they
were ignorant "lambs for the slaughter" or, to use a slighly different,
synonymous idiom, "cannon-fodder."
Along similar lines, it is interesting to note that the usage "atomic
holocaust" (later, "nuclear holocaust") also had widespread currency
within a few years after the conclusion of World War II-well before
"holocaust" started to be used to designate the Jewish genocide.9 Once
again, when "holocaust" was used in this sense, no apparent religious
connotations were implied. Instead, it was the sense of "holocaust" in
terms of world conflagration, i.e., the earth being burnt to a cinder, that
was clearly intended. Perhaps, therefore, we should not be surprised
that the first American book (to our knowledge) in the Twentieth Century
to be entitled Holocaust! was not about the destruction of European
Jewry-but rather about the great "Coconut Grove" disaster in Boston,
where an entire theater full of people lost their lives in the most
devastatingly fatal fire of the early 1940s.'0
In consideration of this history of usage, it might be possible to argue
that "holocaust" was adopted as the label for the Nazis' extermination of
the Jews independent of the term's religious/sacrificial nuance. Instead,
it might be suggested that this word came into American usage primarily
because it had a sense of destructive meaning associated with fire and
war. Note, in this respect, David Roskies' comment:
Forthe Britishand Americanswho experiencedthe Nazigenocideat
a distance,the word"Holocaust,"capitalizedand bracketedin time, did
not reverberatewith echoesof pastdestructions.Suchtermsas Deluge,
Armageddon,GreatWarand GreatPatrioticWarcarriedspecifichis-
torical and theologicalimperatives,but Holocaustto the Englishear,
wasan apocalypticterm for a vicariousdestruction.Likeso manyother
weighty words in the English language,"Holocaust"had its roots in
Latin,and though it did establisha vague connectionbackto the Bible
for bothJewsand Gentiles,("holocaust" as burntoffering),it had none
of the ready connotationsof the alternativenamesjust mentioned.So
muchthe better,for it waspreciselythe nonreferentialqualityof "Holo-
caust"that made it so appealing."
Roskies is certainly correct when he concludes that "Holocaust" has
largely endured as the term of record for the Jewish genocide because
those who use it are almost always ignorant of its meaning. Indeed, it is
the very "strangeness" of the term, coupled with its vaguely "biblical"
flavor, that has allowed this label to cast its spell over those who employ
it. Still, once someone is told what "holocaust" actually means (or at least
can mean) this spell of strangeness can be broken suddenly and dra-
matically. The usual reaction is shock and incredulity-followed by an
affirmation to the effect-"Regardless of what the term means (or used to
mean), that'snot what I mean when I use 'The Holocaust.'"
But in the final analysis, this argument from ignorance simply cannot
hold up. While it is certainly true that the vast majority of people (Jew
and Gentile) continue to use "The Holocaust" without understanding its
religious/sacrificial connotations, it strains credulity to argue that those
Jewish thinkers and writers who first adopted the term and, even more
importantly, then allowed it to flourish, totally ignored information that
could easily be found simply by opening a dictionary. The choice of a
term to describe so horrific, so decisive, so all-encompassing an event in
the shaping of modern Jewish identity as "The Holocaust" cannot be
assumed to be a decision taken lightly or ignorantly. It must have been
done with care and with due consideration. Besides, there is little doubt
that the one man who has done most to establish "The Holocaust" in the
modern consciousness was well aware of what he was doing and well
aware of what the term "holocaust" meant in all its nuances. That man is
Elie Wiesel.
Wiesel is a key-figure, whose work and thought are decisive in the
development of the Jewish response to what European Jewry suffered
under the Nazis. When he recently received the Nobel Peace Prize, a
number of newspapers, for example, the New York Times (October 15,
1986), listed among his accomplishments the coining of the term "The
Holocaust" to characterize the Jewish genocide. Whether Wiesel actually
was the very first to employ "holocaust" in this manner or not, for all
intents and purposes his adoption of the term was the single most im-
portant factor involved in legitimizing it in its current usage. We might
say that Wiesel is to "The Holocaust" what Columbus is to the discovery
of America. Whether he was strictly the first or not is really beside the
point-he was the one who put "The Holocaust," as it were, "on the
map." As he recently mentioned to us in private communication, he
began to use the term in the late 1950s-and first recalls employing it in
print in a review of Josef Bor's The TerezinRequiemin the New YorkTimes
Book Review of October 27, 1963.12From that point on, the term and its
popularization developed throughout the 1960s (especially stimulated by
the Eichmann trial in 1961)13until by the 1970s and 80s it came to its
current broad application.14
And the motivation for Wiesel's use of "The Holocaust" has unmis-
takable religious/sacrificial overtones, as his own writings reveal. Indeed,
in invoking the "holocaust" terminology, it was a particular scene of
sacrifice that Wiesel had in mind-the Akedah, i.e., the story in Gene-
sis 22 where God orders Abraham to offer his son as an 'olah sacrifice,
Wiesel has commented in a number of places regarding what he meant
when he joined the concept of holocaust/sacrifice to the Akedat Yitshak.
For example in a statement he made in Skokie, Illinois in 1980, he
declared:
It is not all that surprising that Wiesel would turn to the Akedah as a
means by which to come to terms with horrific disaster. Since the time
when mother Miriam or Hannah cried out in the face of Hadrian's
persecutions, "Abraham! Be not proud!" Jews have turned to this strange
and difficult story and seen it as emblematic of their plight. Especially, in
the modern context, this story can be seen as being fraught with meaning-
fulness and relevance. Particularly, the figure of Isaac offers potent
archetypes through which Jews can seek comprehension of what might
otherwise seem too horrible to be comprehended. We believe that it is
these "Isaac-archetypes" to which Wiesel turned when he endeavored to
see the Holocaust as "The Holocaust." It is therefore important to explore
the implications of these archetypes if one is to understand how the
Akedah can stand in the background of "The Holocaust."
One such archetype is that of Isaac, the silent sacrificial offering. He
goes to the slaughter without complaint, without protest and with only
the mildest of questions. There is a palpable sense of nobility and bravery
in Isaac's obedience to the commands of his father and, through the
patriarch, the commands of God. There is the sense, too, of someone who
seems, deep down, to comprehend what is about to happen to him but
who is nonetheless not quite told of the fate awaiting until the very last
possible moment. These strongly etched, biblically sanctioned standards
of what is deemed to be ultimate piety clearly can hold a message for a
survivor of "The Holocaust" like Wiesel. For in the Akedah one may find
a kind of answer to the sharpest of questions that victims of the Nazi
genocide have had to try to answer: Why did you not resist? Why did you
not throw yourselves on the Nazi enemies-killing even as you were
killed?
Such questions, of course, are both cruel and unfair, but they are
asked (or thought) nonetheless. Perhaps the only meaningful response a
survivor feels he can give to those who were not there and who could not
possibly understand what it was like in the Nazi camps is a response of
caust for one overarching reason: that it was essential that God be en-
compassed within the universe of this ultimate Jewish catastrophe.
Certainly, to see God as having a role in the destruction of the Jews is
difficult, nearly intolerable-but to divorce God from this most horrific
of events would be far worse. For without the God of the Bible, who
established the special relationship with the Chosen People, the genocide
ceases to be a Jewish event. The Jews who suffered so much would be
robbed of their chosenness, their unique victimization-and for Wiesel
this is unthinkable. Wiesel well understood all of the factors that could
come into play when he called the Holocaust "The Holocaust"; he chose
this term nonetheless because it seemed to him the only way to preserve
the specialness of the tragedy as a Jewish tragedy. To all of this, one must
respond with sympathy and empathy. Still, as the trauma of events in the
first half of the Twentieth Century lessens as the Twenty-First approaches,
one may begin to reconsider: Do we still wish to characterize the Holo-
caust as "The Holocaust"? Is the "Isaac-archetype"appropriate?
To begin with, should one see the Jews who were exterminated by
the Nazis as the embodiment of the first Isaac-archetype, the silent sacri-
ficial offering? We have already considered how such an assumption
turns the Nazis into agents of sacrifice and God into Him for whom the
sacrifice is made. Is there any way to mitigate these potentialities? A
possible mitigation appears in certain Christian interpretations of "The
Holocaust," in which the Jews are seen as Christ-like sacrificial "lambs of
God," and, like Christ, turning the other cheek and loving their enemies
who know not what they do. The sacrifice can then be seen as serving a
greater purpose, as with Jesus: the redemption and salvation of mankind.
In some versions of this Christian interpretation, the "reward" of the
reclamation of Israel by the Jews is seen as the preliminary step to the
Second Coming of Christ. Thus, "The Holocaust" will lead to the coming
of a mutual Messiah.
Most Jews would discount this Christological view of "The Holo-
caust." They prefer to think of themselves as Wiesel thinks of Isaac, as
one put upon by a circumstance he did not make or choose. They have
never willingly sought out the martyr's role. Besides this, the idea of the
Nazis as the agents of evil who, nonetheless, serve a greater good, is
distasteful to Jews-especially because the parallel agents of destruction
from the Christian story, the priests and Pharisees, are none other than
the Jews themselves. Finally, most Jews find it unconscionable to see the
state of Israel as their tangible "reward" for sacrifice-least of all if this
reward is to be viewed as a preliminary step to the return of the Christian
Messiah.
Still, there is one element that the Jewish and Christian views of
"The Holocaust" share. It follows from seeing the Jewish genocide as a
sacrifice to God, whether after the model of Isaac or of Jesus. In either
case the silent object of deadly intent has been elevated to "heroic"19
status. If an Isaac did not cry out, if a Jesus turned the other cheek,
cannot the Jews who went silently to their deaths also be seen as "heroes"
who had to endure a special testing that no ordinary men and women
have ever had to endure? And did they not pass this test, as did Isaac and
Jesus, with "flying colors"? Further, if the Jews who died in the camps
did not begin as paragons of virtue, could it not be argued that their
ultimate sacrifice made them so-just as the testing of Isaac confirmed
his role as patriarch and the crucifixion of Jesus confirmed his role
as Messiah?
Although such arguments might seem attractive, they distort the
reality. There were no Isaacs or Jesuses in the camps but rather simply
human beings in desperate straits-ordinary people who did the or-
dinary, desperate things that people do in order to prolong their exis-
tence, however, pitiful, however short-lived. In fact, the lack of resistance
in the camps is precisely what one would expect from ordinary people
who were always left with an element of doubt (however small) about
their final fate.
It is a fundamental disservice to those who died to transform them all
into images of Isaac or Jesus. Their deaths should not be elevated to
grand, even cosmic tragedy, but kept grounded on earth. The meanness
of their ends should not be aggrandized because to do so would make this
grim course of events more palatable. Like the Akedahor the crucifixion
of Christ, the story would become "beautiful."
It is not beauty, nobility, "heroism" or even silence that should be
celebrated when one speaks of this Jewish calamity. Instead, the ele-
mental human struggle manifest in this event can be properly grasped
only if the Jewish genocide is kept ugly, ignoble, unheroic, punctuated
by the screams of those who found themselves in mortal peril. To turn
the Jewish genocide into a sacrifice makes it a "biblical"event rather than
an event of our own time-a myth rather than a reality.
A closer look at the second Isaac-archetype reveals not only specially
chosen victims, but also specially chosen destroyers to be the rods of
divine anger. The prophets have told us that God created these vic-
timizers solely for that purpose. Similarly, the Nazis can be seen as the
ultimate foreign nation destined to make Israel suffer. They are unique
devils, perpetrating cruelty on their unique victims, the Jews. This con-
ception sometimes leads to making no distinction between Nazis and
Germans, including those who acquiesced, those who did not, and new
generations of Germans who are wrestling with collective guilt. This falls
into the racial stereotyping that Jews have resisted for centuries, a license
for Jews to see others as sub-human, just as the Nazis categorized them in
that way.
A more humane model would see the Germans, even the Nazis, as
ordinary human beings, who showed in the Jewish genocide that ordinary
people in certain circumstances are capable of extraordinary cruelty. To
say this does not exonerate or mitigate in any way the enormity of the
Nazi cruelty. In fact, the dreadfulness of the Jewish genocide comes into
focus only when the Nazis are deemed to be ordinary. Then the event
cannot be so easily dismissed as an isolated instance. It becomes a warning
of what can all too easily happen at any time, at any place, with anyone in
the role of victim or victimizer. This is the way "The Holocaust" should
be characterized and especially how it should be taught.
We should not be swayed by arguments that six million, efficiently
killed Jews represent a more horrific slaughter than one or two million
inefficiently murdered Armenians. In fact, even the "six million" figure,
often invoked in characterizations of "The Holocaust," points up the
problem of stressing uniqueness and chosenness over commonality. The
truth is that eleven million people were killed by the Nazis in the con-
centration camps. Nearly half of these are excluded in most characteri-
zations of "The Holocaust," and this seems to imply that Gentile deaths
are not as significant as Jewish deaths.
"The Holocaust" should not be isolated, labeled as sui generis, the
cataclysmic event, the discontinuity in history-all those things that
necessarily follow when the Holocaust is seen as "The Holocaust." Rather,
it must be taken to be emblematic. If it is to remain "The Primary Case"
then it must be a case that shows the true horror, i.e., what all people are
capable of doing and what all people are capable of suffering.
The third, and last, archetype to consider is that of Isaac as survivor.
Here we must note that Isaac miraculously escaped, whereas the victims
of the Final Solution had no such miracle. Further, Abraham's pious
acceptance of God's testing does not sit well as a "parallel" to the cruelty
of the Nazis, although both could say that they were just following orders.
Despite these interpretive drawbacks, it must be recognized that
Wiesel feels compelled to use an Akedah-modelof survival, as opposed to
other potential models (e.g., Job) because its theme of Jewish survival
includes God who grants an eternal promise to his people that some
remnant will always survive.
Needless to say, no Jew in his right mind would oppose the concept
of Jewish survival in a post-Holocaust world. However, when Jews urge
each other, "Never again!" the sub-text is really more "Never again for
us!" This stress can have a subtle effect of desensitizing the Jewish com-
munity to the suffering of others as the community takes whatever steps
it feels are necessary to insure its own survival. Moreover, because the
authority of this survival, according to the patriarchal covenant, is God
and His promise to Abraham, those who zealously press for whatever
measures are necessary to guarantee that the Jews endure or even triumph
can claim that any action is justified as a furthering of God's will.
We emphasize, however, that most Jews have resisted this tendency
to a remarkable degree. In the current crisis in Israel, there is extensive
NOTES