In a recent class, I asked Cornell University students if they’d ever interacted with a Holocaust survivor. Every student raised their hand. I explained that they are the last generation to have this privilege.
Eighty years after the liberation of Auschwitz-Birkenau, the survivors, who endured persecution, oppression, torture, and Nazi Germany’s “Final Solution,” have dedicated themselves to sharing their experiences.
With dwindling survivor numbers, it’s crucial to determine how their memories will be preserved for future generations who will never have the chance to hear their stories firsthand.
My parents survived Auschwitz and Bergen-Belsen. In 1945, my mother, Dr. Ada Bimko, testified against Nazi war criminals at a British military tribunal in Lüneburg.
Imprisoned for 15 months in Birkenau and five months in Bergen-Belsen, my mother was separated from her family upon arrival at Birkenau on August 3, 1943, and sent to work in the camp infirmary.
In her early testimony, she described the dehumanizing cruelty at Auschwitz, recounting how sick Jews were paraded naked before an SS doctor, who would select those to be killed based on arbitrary observations.
I share my mother’s testimony in my courses at Cornell and Columbia, and in my genocide law classes, to provide students with a direct connection to the Holocaust.
The historian Lucy Dawidowicz described my father, a prominent survivor leader, as someone who tirelessly shared his experiences.
Remembrance requires purpose – understanding what we remember and why.
The United Nations designated January 27th (the liberation of Auschwitz) as International Holocaust Remembrance Day, reaffirming the need to learn from the dangers of hatred, bigotry, racism, and prejudice.
Holocaust remembrance must also focus on the individual victims, not just statistics. Survivors recounted the deaths of their loved ones – those who perished from starvation, disease, or in the crematoria. We cannot let them be forgotten.
Each of us should commit to remembering at least one name and face. For me, it is Benjamin, my mother’s five-and-a-half-year-old son. Keeping his memory alive is my responsibility.
As the children and grandchildren of survivors, we’ve inherited their memories. We are their witnesses, and we must ensure that their legacy remains a permanent part of human consciousness.