In the weeks leading up to Yom HaShoah, or Holocaust Remembrance Day, I find myself confronted every year in one way or another with the question: What does it mean to be a scholar of an event that is often considered to be sacred?
To many, the genocidal assault on European Jews, people with disabilities, Roma and others who were considered undesirable in the new world the Nazis hoped to create, is an event that exists outside of normal historical processes. Attempts at historical explanations seem inadequate in light of the magnitude of the killing, its seemingly unprecedented character, and the complicated role of Jews and Judaism in Western society.
The Holocaust, therefore, often becomes consigned to a realm in which it is considered in strictly respectful tones for fear of somehow adding to or trivializing the violence that occurred in the early 1940s. As the longing to commemorate and memorialize the Holocaust expands, consequently, its meaning becomes established and its historical aspects less open to critical inquiry.
Complicating this further is that our fascination with the Holocaust continues to grow even as our distance from it increases. This is contrary to most other historical events, whose commemorative value tends to diminish rather than increase with the passing of time.
As a historian, however, it is my task to research and explore the very human-created causes, actions and consequences of the Nazi Holocaust. As a teacher, I communicate to my students the basic facts and figures of this particular historical moment. As well, I teach them to engage it critically through its multiple representations, such as diaries, memoirs, poetry, film, memorials and museums, and to understand how the evocation of this past has been adapted at times in service of various social, political, religious and economic agendas.
Just as in my other courses, which contend with a range of European and American Jewish historical topics, I emphasize the importance of questioning the received or established "lessons" of the Holocaust, rather than insisting upon them.
God doesn't enter into the conversation, except when it is raised by the victims, perpetrators and bystanders themselves. I don't teach the Holocaust as a form of punishment or the founding of the state of Israel as a matter of divine redemption.
Historians thus find ourselves increasingly in a curious position. Our rapidly expanding knowledge of this event is regularly challenging our assumptions and redefining our understanding of the Holocaust. So too, however, is the public's desire to memorialize and commemorate it. Given that it is the task of educators to prepare our students to be active citizens and participants in society, we much teach them the skills to assess critically — rather than reinforce — the received wisdom of others.
With this in mind, I hope that our growing efforts to memorialize the Holocaust can also become opportunities to further historical inquiry.
Barry Trachtenberg is associate professor of history at the University at Albany and director of the Judaic Studies Program. On Monday, Holocaust Remembrance Day, the program will present the Malka and Eitan Evan Yom haShoah Lecture, "Anne Frank: From Diary to Book," by Rutgers University Professor Jeffrey Shandler , at 7 p.m. in UAlbany's Page Hall (downtown campus).