Lessons from Auschwitz as students mark Holocaust Memorial Day

Today on Holocaust Memorial Day, more local students have shared their experience of visiting Auschwitz concentration camp. The students attended a five-day trip to Poland as part of the ‘Learning From Auschwitz’ initiative last year and have penned their feelings, memories and thoughts on the experience.

Where the birds don't sing

By Jack Muscat-Byrne

On the 3rd of July 2024, at roughly 16:45. I stepped into the physical embodiment of hatred through an archway, beneath quiet and unassuming brick walls, passing by a finite stretch of railroad, under a seemingly innocent watchtower and onto the soft and soothing crunching of a gravel path.

A gravel path whose crunches would be drowned out by stories of fear, anguish, evil and pain, if the path itself could speak.

A gravel path which led millions a year down a patch of land nearly 1 km in length.

Almost the exact same path that was unwillingly walked by over 1 million others during 1940-1945.

This was a walk that I was privileged enough to walk away from, whereas 1.1 million others were not. The electric barbed fences that encased the area made this clear. The rows and rows of gates, towers and fences, accompanied by the sporadic placement of sturdy brick chimneys, seemed to stretch on over the horizon, crushing any ability I had to understand the scale of torment that this place had witnessed.

The air itself felt heavy and slow, as if saddened by its location, the gorgeous trees and countryside void of all life. No singing birds. No rustling leaves. As if every living creature in the vicinity knew the significance of where it stood. The most important landmark on Earth, a stark reminder of mankind's capacity for evil; Auschwitz II - Birkenau.

Auschwitz is located in Poland and is the largest of the Nazi concentration and extermination camps.

It was a central component to the Holocaust, where, tragically, historians have estimated that 1.1 million people lost their lives. The majority, around 1 million, were Jewish. The second largest group, roughly 70,000, were Poles, and the third most numerous, Romani, around 21,000. About 15,000 Soviet POWs and 12,000 prisoners from other ethnic backgrounds were also murdered here.

Before my visit, I made the presumption that my sense of scale on the topic would be made more clear, however, my visit had the opposite effect. It now seems impossibly and unfathomably large.

Having witnessed, with my own eyes, the rows of names and rooms of shoes a twisted surrealism formed in my head, pointing my attention to a more overlooked aspect of the Holocaust in its entirety. The systematic killing and the industrialisation of any minorities the Nazis deemed as “Untermensch/Subhuman”.

It was eventually dubbed by the Nazis as “The Final Solution”.

During the war, Germany's military campaigns created a severe manpower shortage in their economy. It was filled via conscription of foreign workers who, later on in the war, constructed more concentration camps under the orders of the Nazi SS.

They were built in an effort to increase prison labour, for more use within the war effort. This forced labour was often pointless, humiliating and dangerous. The workers were subject to terrible conditions with no proper equipment or nourishment, leading to a high death rate within the workforce. However, for many of those who ended up in Auschwitz, the ability to work often increased their potential to survive.

In Auschwitz, those unable to work would be immediately murdered via the use of Zyklon B (the gassing agent used in the chambers).

Those who were fit for work would be kept in Auschwitz 1, where they would be stripped of their identity, reduced to mere numbers, shaved and given uniforms. Any of those who were chosen to be murdered would be shaved after the gassing and prior to cremation.

Their hair would be used in numerous ways by the Nazi party. It would be ‘cured’ in lofts over the crematorium's ovens and gathered into 20 kg bales. These were then shipped off to processing firms, where it was used to weave socks for submarine crews and railroad workers, as well as in ignition mechanisms for bombs, ropes and cords for ships and even stuffing for mattresses. Some products may still be used in German households to this day.

The camps themselves were often built by the prisoners, who were forced into slavery. Most, if not all of the difficult and laborious tasks were carried out by the prisoners. They were forced to burn the bodies of the previously murdered as well as being forced to dump the bodies or ashes of the previously gassed/killed.

The Nazis therefore ensured a conscious policy of “annihilation by work”, where those who were deemed fit for work would be worked until they would die.

Hence the infamous sign upon entry to Auschwitz I, reading; ‘Work will set you free’.

The Nazis appeared to enjoy the sense of irony that they received from forcing the prisoners into the workforce, which usually meant that the prisoners had aided in their own demise.

The emotional and physical conditions that the prisoners were exposed to is beyond our understanding, but many often remained hopeful and survived off of their unrivaled willpower.

I was honoured enough to meet one of these survivors, Mala Tribich, who was a true inspiration, filled with positivity, strength and modesty. She taught me valuable lessons which I aim to live out every day.

But not everyone is privileged enough to meet a holocaust survivor, so we must ensure that the true history of the holocaust is preserved and spread. The mere fact that there are people out there who do not believe that the Holocaust occurred shows that we should all be doing our job of remembering and passing on information much better.

The horrors of this event can not be told here in full, so I implore you to do your own research, and I beg you to remember, remember on this Holocaust Memorial Day and every year thereafter.

Remember that we are privileged to merely be alive; privileged to eat whatever food ends up on our plate.

Because all of these things are not just blessings, they are an opportunity to spread our wealth with others; an obligation to value our lives and to ensure that the true history about the Holocaust is never forgotten and most certainly never repeated.

"For the dead and the living, we must bear witness."

-Elie Wiesel

Never again, again?

By Finlay Savignon Watson

“Arbeit Macht Frei,” the notorious wrought-iron gates read as we approached.

Translated to “Work Makes You Free”, it was some kind of sick joke employed by the SS, as they knew the only “freedom” most of the prisoners who passed beneath them into Auschwitz I Labour Camp would ever feel would be their deaths.

This was more than just a visit to a historical site—it was a confrontation with humanity’s darkest depths. A real exposure to how cruel a human being can be towards another human being.

Yet, as I walked through the barracks and witnessed the haunting remnants of lives stolen by hate, one question lingered: Have we truly learned?

After the camps were liberated and the horrors of the holocaust were thrust in full view of the world, the whole world vowed “Never Again” to allow atrocities of such a scale, and the future seemed bright for humanity. Perhaps, finally, in this worldwide condemnation, society had progressed beyond committing such horror…

And yet, terrible atrocities have persisted since, in Rwanda, Bosnia, Guatemala, and Myanmar, to name but a small handful of the devastatingly huge number of atrocities since the closure of WW2. My visit to Poland has had me thinking: Is remembering the Holocaust really enough?

All my life I’d been told by people who had visited Auschwitz that you can’t understand what really happened there until you’ve been, and indeed I felt the weight of their words in that camp.

Visiting Auschwitz is an experience that defies words.

The barracks, still standing, are haunting reminders of the unimaginable suffering endured by over a million innocent people.

Glass walls divided us between entire rooms filled with confiscated shoes, suitcases, kitchenware, children’s toys and even a huge mass of human hair. Each item, barely distinguishable from the masses, represents a person, a life, a story, a family, extinguished by hate.

Yet, as I walked past the standing cells in the corridor of Block 11, I was appalled that the mechanisms that made this horror possible were not confined to the past. In fact the Bogerschaukel, a torture method in which the victim is bound by the ankles and wrists, with the biceps under a pole and knees over it, used in Auschwitz and then by Brazil’s military dictatorship 20 years later, was praised by the last president of Brazil, Bolsonaro.

From modern and ongoing genocides to the rising tide of racism and xenophobia worldwide, it is clear that humanity has not learned from Auschwitz. This reality makes remembering the Holocaust not just an act of reflection but a call to action. Auschwitz is not just a symbol of history; it is a grave warning.

On the first day of the trip, we visited the Jewish Quarter of Krakow, Kazimierz, where a population of over 60,000 Jews lived before the Holocaust. We were told that only around 200 Jews still live in the city today.

Many of the synagogues are no longer in use, with there no longer being enough Jews to maintain and worship in them, a few have become museums, one of which we visited. Eighty years on, the echoes of this once-thriving community are hauntingly faint, their vibrant culture and traditions almost entirely erased.

Later, we visited the Krakow Ghetto, where thousands of Jews were forcibly relocated, crammed into tiny apartments, and subjected to unimaginable suffering. The remnants of the ghetto wall stood as a chilling symbol of segregation and dehumanization, their very design (shaped to resemble Jewish headstones) meant to strip people of their dignity. Forced displacement, overcrowded camps, and the isolation of a marginalised community… none of which are a thing of the past.

Refugee camps for displaced populations, such as that for the Rohingya in Bangladesh, echo the ghetto’s tragic conditions: overcrowded, under-resourced, and cut off from the rest of the world.

There are many contemporary examples that serve as unsettling but very much real evidence that the lessons of the Holocaust have not been learned.

The Holocaust was meant to be a defining warning to humanity - “Never Again.”

And yet, since the liberation of Auschwitz in 1945, the world has witnessed countless atrocities that resemble the horrors of the past.

In 1970s Cambodia, Pol Pot’s Khmer Rouge massacred almost 2 million people, a third of the country’s population.

In Rwanda, 100 days of unchecked rising hate climaxed with the murder of 800,000 Tutsis by machete and machine gun in 1994.

In Guatemala, during the US-backed military campaign from 1960 to 1996, over 200,000 people were killed, including entire Indigenous Mayan communities. The banana republic’s scorched-earth policies, forced disappearances, and brutal massacres has become known as the Silent Holocaust. The active support of the USA in funding and training the Guatemalan military in the name of profit highlights a disturbing truth: no nation is entirely innocent in the perpetuation of global atrocities.

Today, systemic state oppression and violence against the Uyghur people of China under the guise of “Reeducation”, as well as the ongoing persecution of the Rohingya people under Myanmar's Military Regime, are only a couple of modern examples that show that genocide, persecution, and human rights abuses remain terrifyingly prevalent.

Many of us like to believe that “If I was alive during the holocaust I would have done something”, and yet here we are. Ignorance has become a coping mechanism, the illusion of a shield to our consciences. It is a sobering reminder that remembering the Holocaust is simply not enough, and we must act on its lessons to prevent future atrocities. It is no longer a lesson but a responsibility which we must step up to.

Complacency is what allowed the holocaust to occur. We can not, must not, follow in their footsteps.

The world is on the brink of forgetting, and that forgetfulness is deadly. The Holocaust taught us the cost of hatred and apathy, yet we see the same patterns resurfacing today.

Far-right extremism is no longer lurking in the shadows, it’s surging into mainstream politics at an unprecedented rate, fuelling division, scapegoating minorities, and putting vulnerable people in danger.

From fascist rallies to violent hate crimes, these are not isolated incidents, they are the warning signs of history repeating itself.

Prejudice doesn’t wait. Hate doesn’t stop. If we fail to act now, the words “Never Again” will become a hollow, broken promise.

In Auschwitz, walking amongst the ghosts of those who were murdered, I couldn’t escape a single, terrible truth: this happened because people looked away.

It began with small acts of hate that grew into an unstoppable force because no one stopped it in time.

Today, I see those same seeds of hatred being planted again, and I can’t stay silent. This trip has opened my eyes to the urgency of remembrance, not as a passive acknowledgment of the past, but as a battle cry to fight the hate we see right now.

Will people 80 years from now look back and say “Never Again”? Will it be as empty as it is today? Every hateful rally, every scapegoated community, every unchecked act of discrimination is proof that we are failing to learn.

The time to act is not tomorrow; it’s now. Right now. If we don’t challenge these ideologies with the same ferocity they are spreading, we will face the same horrors as before.

This trip wasn’t just about remembering Auschwitz; it was about seeing the echoes of its lessons all around us. It was about realizing that we don’t have the luxury of apathy.

We are the last generation who will hear survivors like Mala Tribich speak. The last generation with the chance to carry their stories forward and turn their suffering into a mandate for change.

The world is screaming at us to act. Hate is rising, and the ghosts of Auschwitz are begging us to listen. The question is no longer if history will repeat itself, it’s how far we’ll let it go before we stop it.

Will we fight back, or will we look away and fail them all over again?