Holocaust survivors like me have not only endured but thrived - opinion

The Nazis tried to erase us, but we are still here. And we will continue to be here – building, thriving, and lighting the way for future generations.

 American Jewish World War II veterans Don Golde (right), Cy Mermelstein (left), and Shep Waldman (center) stand next to the barbed wire fence of the concentration camp at the 62nd memorial of the liberation in Dachau on May 13, 2007.  (photo credit: Michaela Rehle/Reuters)
American Jewish World War II veterans Don Golde (right), Cy Mermelstein (left), and Shep Waldman (center) stand next to the barbed wire fence of the concentration camp at the 62nd memorial of the liberation in Dachau on May 13, 2007.
(photo credit: Michaela Rehle/Reuters)

Eighty years ago – on the day of my liberation by American troops from a subcamp of Dachau – I was an emaciated 17-year-old teenager clinging to life. I had barely survived the unimaginable horrors of Auschwitz-Birkenau and several other Nazi camps, and a death march from Funfteichen to Gross-Rosen in midwinter. During these years, my father was always by my side, saving my life a number of times.

My mother and sister were not as fortunate. They were murdered in 1943 in Auschwitz on Yom Kippur, a Jewish holiday meant for reflection and atonement turned into one of unspeakable tragedy.

Today, as I prepare to mark eight decades since the liberation of Auschwitz, I find myself reflecting not just on the past but on the present and the future of the Jewish people. We are living in a time when the lessons of the Holocaust are as urgent as ever, yet increasingly at risk of being forgotten or dismissed.

For survivors like me, memory is not just a personal burden but a moral responsibility. We carry the stories of those who can no longer speak and bear witness to a world that has often failed to learn from its darkest chapters.

When I was liberated, I was alive – but barely. Survival was not the end of my struggle; it was the beginning of a new chapter filled with unrelenting grief and questions that could never be answered. My father and I had each other, but our family was shattered.

 Chorzów, Poland, the writer's hometown, pictured in the 1930s before the horrors of the Holocaust. (credit: Wikimedia Commons)Enlrage image
Chorzów, Poland, the writer's hometown, pictured in the 1930s before the horrors of the Holocaust. (credit: Wikimedia Commons)

I returned to my hometown of Chorzów, Poland, to the home where my grandmother once welcomed me with warmth and love. Standing at the gate for what felt like hours, I finally summoned the courage to step through. I then faced the unbearable reality that my mother and sister would never return. 

That moment marked the start of a lifetime of grappling with loss, but it also ignited a determination within me – to remember, teach, and fight for a future where such atrocities could never happen again.

The difference today

THE JEWISH people of today are not the same as we were in the 1930s and ’40s. Back then, we believed silence might protect us, that the rising tide of hatred might recede if we simply endured. We now know how tragically wrong that belief was.

Today, the Jewish people stand united, empowered by the lessons of our past. The establishment of the State of Israel, the strengthening of Jewish communities worldwide, and the global cry of “Never Again” reflect our transformation. We have learned the power of resilience and the necessity of standing up – not only for ourselves but for all who face hatred and injustice.

Yet, Holocaust memory cannot remain solely the responsibility of the Jewish people. The Holocaust did not happen just to Jews; it was committed by the world. Until humanity as a whole acknowledges this truth, genocides will continue to occur – as they have, in places like Rwanda, Darfur, and Syria. Holocaust education must be a global commitment, not just a Jewish one.


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On October 7, 2023, the unthinkable happened again. The Hamas attacks on Israel were a painful reminder that the hatred that fueled the Holocaust has not disappeared. Watching the events unfold, I felt the same dread that consumed my father when he first realized the Nazis’s plans. For decades, I had worked to build a sense of security, only to see it collapse in an instant.

But this time, there was a difference. The swift and resolute response of the Israeli Defense Forces, coupled with the unwavering solidarity of Jews around the world, reignited my hope. We are no longer powerless. We have a voice, we have strength, and we have each other.

This year, at 97, I will participate in the March of the Living for the 21st time. Walking through Auschwitz with Jewish youth and allies from around the world is both a painful and inspiring experience. I march because memory matters – because it is the bridge between our past and our future.

For these young people, the march is not just about remembering; it is about learning how to transform memory into action. It is a declaration that even in the face of unimaginable darkness, we can choose light.

During the Holocaust, the Righteous Among the Nations showed us the power of courage and humanity. Today, we look to a new generation of allies – those who stand against antisemitism, who defend Israel, and who commit themselves to building a world free from hatred. Their solidarity reminds us that we are not alone.

AS WE MARK 80 years since Auschwitz’s liberation, I am filled not with despair but with optimism. Survivors like me have not only endured but thrived. Our families and communities have grown and flourished, defying every attempt to destroy us.

The Jewish story is one of resilience and renewal, a testament to the unbreakable spirit of our people. As long as we remember, teach, and stand united, we ensure that the light of our heritage will never be extinguished.

The Nazis tried to erase us, but we are still here. And we will continue to be here – building, thriving, and lighting the way for future generations.

The writer, a Holocaust survivor, now lives in Canada. He has dedicated his life to Holocaust education and ensuring that the memory of the Holocaust informs a more just and compassionate future.