Vedika Luthra
Reflecting on HIA’s visit to Treblinka
There lies a forest, several hours from
Warsaw. Summer has just made its debut, and this forest teems with life. Birds
chirp. Small flies dot the air. Tall trees appear even larger with their leaves
in full bloom. In the midst of this forest is what appears to be a field, and
in close proximity, a standard, conventional house. A cobbled pavement guides
visitors across this vast parameter. An
ordinary passer-by on Sunday, June 4th will regard the space as a
pleasant location to take a walk, perhaps enjoy a picnic on a tranquil Sunday
afternoon.
The irony is that Treblinka is anything but
pleasant.
We stand upon the ashes of nearly 900,000
victims who were slaughtered during the Second World War. But nature has done a
fine job of erasing any remaining evidence after the Nazis dismantled the camp
in 1943, when they came to terms with the possibility of losing the war.
Nothing on this soil today showcases any hint of suffering endured by those who
were murdered: Everything depends upon the individual’s imagination and
sensation alone.
What I found fascinating about this trip was
not so much the museum itself, but learning about the meticulous planning
behind the genocide. Tomasz Cebulski, a historian specializing in the Holocaust
guided us through the site and model of the Treblinka work and extermination
camps. He explained the systematic method by which the Nazis managed to get the
victims to undress, surrender their personal belongings and separate based on
gender, how they managed to pile the victims into dark chambers pumped with
carbon monoxide which lead to their demise, how they managed to dispose of the
bodies and how this process became more efficient and timely as more people
perished.
All of this was done without traces of
humanity on part of the perpetrator. Although they facilitated this procession,
Nazi officials did not have to face the victims themselves: Enslaved Jewish men
dubbed Sonderkommandos or “special
units” were forced to remove the bodies from gas chambers and transfer them large
pits. This method ensured that the “mental health” of Nazi officials was “left
intact”.
Located in the center of Treblinka II- the
extermination camp, is a monument surrounded by approximately 1600 stones, representative
of tombstones at a cemetery to mark the genocide that was conducted only
seventy odd years ago. Etched upon a larger piece of concrete are the words nigdy wiecej, jamais plus, nie weider[M1] – never again. What troubled me- and other fellows about this phrase
is that it did happen again. And again. Armenia. Burma. Rwanda. Guatemala.
Cambodia. The list continues. Yet not action is done to acknowledge let alone
act in light of these examples, a troubling fact.
Growing up in Poland, I have grown accustomed
to learning about war. Although I found myself overcome with utter shock and
grief at the ages of 11, 12, 13 - and 14 when I visited Auschwitz-Birkenau, the
Second World War no longer distresses me as much as it did then. It may be
because I have built a mental barrier, an attempt to prevent myself from
sinking into a troubling state of mind that I have experienced and no longer
wish to revisit. Personally, Treblinka served as more of a meditative
experience, inviting me to contemplate questions such as “how did the Nazis
manage to erase all evidence of murdering 6 million people?” and more recently,
“what can we actually do to make sure that ‘never again’ becomes a kept
promise?”
The physicality of events that occurred
during at Treblinka during the Second World War is no longer tangible. Nature
has done away with that. And increasingly, the incident is buried deeper and
deeper in the past. To some extent, rightly so. Enough time has gone by and we
must move on. But before we can, the holocaust must fulfill its legacy: To
remind people that genocide must indeed, ‘never again’ occur. So far, we have
failed. As humanity, we must do better.
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