‘We cannot allow our past to shape our children’s future’

Larry Bacow’s mother, Ruth Wertheim, was just 15 when she was sent to the Theresienstadt concentration camp located in the Czech Republic. Two years afterward, she was transported to Auschwitz, where she was separated from her parents and later transferred to Merzdorf in Germany. Wertheim, the sole survivor of her family during the war, was 18 when her camp and Auschwitz were liberated in 1945. A year later, she immigrated to the U.S.

Former Harvard President Bacow represented the University among world leaders, official delegates, and survivors on Jan. 27 at a solemn ceremony acknowledging the 80th anniversary of Auschwitz’s liberation in southern Poland. This site, where nearly 1 million Jews were murdered by the Nazis, stands as a lasting emblem of the Holocaust and is now a museum and memorial.

In this modified discussion with the Gazette, Bacow reflected on the occasion and his inaugural visit to the Auschwitz complex.

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Could you share your family’s ties to the Holocaust?

My mother was the only one from her family and the only Jew from her hometown, Londorf, Germany, who survived the war. I didn’t often discuss my mother in my professional life until I assumed the role of Harvard president in 2018. It was a time when the government exhibited increasing hostility toward immigrants as well as refugees, and I believed it essential for people to grasp that those who arrive in this country from different nations usually do so for diverse reasons.

One reason is simply to pursue a better life for themselves and their offspring. They also seek religious liberty, often with limited resources. They may not be proficient in the language, but they possess a resolute determination to offer a better existence for their children than what they could have had if they had stayed behind.

Both of my parents were refugees. My father was born in Minsk, Belarus, and he arrived before the war, while my mother came afterward, prompting me to begin discussing it.

“How could she have survived such an experience without being utterly traumatized by it?”

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Transcript:

Larry Bacow: “I once posed the question to her, ‘How could she have survived such an ordeal without being utterly traumatized by it?’ She was 15 when she entered the camps and 18 upon liberation. She replied, ‘At that point, Hitler had taken everything from me: my parents, friends, my whole family, our home, our belongings.’ She said, ‘I could either live in anger or bitterness for the rest of my life, allowing Hitler to take everything else from me, or I could choose to live well; that would be my form of revenge.’ That was my mother. She was an incredibly resilient and strong individual.”

Was this your initial visit to Auschwitz?

Indeed. I had previously avoided visiting any of the extermination camps. It felt too close to home. My earliest childhood memory involves my mother waking up in the night, distressed by a nightmare. I was 4 years old, and she was merely nine years out of Auschwitz.

Nevertheless, my mother was an extraordinary individual; she was profoundly optimistic, resolute, and forward-thinking; she was adored by everyone. I once inquired, “How could she have lived through such an event without being completely traumatized?” She was 15 upon entering the camps and 18 at liberation.

She remarked, “By that time, Hitler had taken everything I cherished: my parents, friends, my entire family, our home, our possessions.” She stated, “I could have harbored anger or bitterness for the rest of my life, with Hitler additionally depriving me of everything else, or I could lead a fulfilling life, which would serve as my revenge.” That was my mother. She was astonishingly resilient and strong.

What impact did the ceremony have on you personally?

When Alan Garber extended an invitation for me to represent Harvard at the 80th anniversary of Auschwitz’s liberation, I felt compelled to accept. In many respects, it presented an opportunity to bear witness to the horrors endured by my mother and her family, along with countless others.

What made the journey exceptionally poignant was that Auschwitz was liberated on January 27, 1945, while my mother passed away on January 27, 1994. This was…the commemoration of my mother’s passing. I simply felt compelled to take this action. This was significant, especially at a moment when antisemitism is escalating across the globe. I was joined by two dozen heads of state and various delegates who were present to convey a message that such atrocities must not and cannot occur again.

What were the most impactful elements of the commemorative event for you?

Commemorative functions are held every five years. This year’s observance featured only speakers who were survivors of Auschwitz. Given this being the 80th anniversary, the organizers acknowledged that in five to ten years, there might be no survivors left. The event emphasized the testimonies of those survivors. They were the sole speakers aside from the heads of the foundation and museum, each of whom expressed brief remarks.

Each survivor was quite advanced in age, often fragile, and several relied on walkers or canes. They required assistance to reach the podium, which amplified the strength of their testimonies—demonstrating their resolve for the world to comprehend what transpired and the experiences they endured. There’s a saying frequently linked to Stalin: “The death of one man is a tragedy, the death of millions is a statistic.” Listening to the stories of the survivors made a concept that’s often beyond comprehension vividly real. It was profoundly, profoundly emotional.

There were also several additional poignant moments. We utilized shuttle buses from a parking area to reach the event. The journey was brief, perhaps eight or nine minutes. The buses were rather full, with many attendees standing, and as we arrived, we passed by a cattle car preserved as part of the Auschwitz memorial site. I could not help but reflect: Here we were, aboard a heated bus, and although we were tightly packed, it paled in comparison to the conditions faced by those deported to Auschwitz. Hundreds were crammed into those cattle cars, often without food, water, or even room to lie down.

Another moment that struck me occurred at the conclusion of the ceremony when everyone stood for a prayer. There is a prayer known as Kaddish that Jews recite for loved ones who have passed away on the anniversary of their death. This day marked the anniversary of my mother’s passing, and reciting it there, where the ashes of her family were literally scattered, is a memory I will carry with me for the rest of my life.

“Listening to the survivors’ accounts turned a number that is typically hard to grasp into something profoundly real.”

My mother recounted how she was torn from her parents as they were taken straight to the crematorium. I was also moved by the dedication of those who tirelessly worked to honor this memory and to maintain Auschwitz itself. They were not Jewish; they were Polish. I believe they deserve commendation for their commendable efforts.

What part can universities play in preserving the memory of the Holocaust?

Our motto is truth, Veritas, and we live in a period where individuals continue to deny the reality of the Holocaust, while significant leaders advocate for moving on and ceasing to focus on the atrocities committed by the Nazis.

It is in such circumstances that universities can contribute by helping to preserve the historical record and teaching what truly occurred. Many scholars of the Holocaust were present at the event. Ronald Lauder, the chairman of the Auschwitz-Birkenau Memorial Foundation, emphasized that five years ago, at the last commemorative gathering, it was unimaginable for the world to be so rife with antisemitism as it is now.

He remarked, “All the more reason to capture these narratives, to document them, and to safeguard Auschwitz for future generations.” The entire Auschwitz death camp has been preserved as a museum, and the Polish people deserve immense respect for having accomplished that.

One speaker cited a survivor from the 70th anniversary of the Auschwitz commemoration, a Polish Holocaust survivor named Roman Kent, who has since passed away. Kent’s words encapsulated the essence of the gathering perfectly: “We cannot allow our past to shape our children’s future.” For me, that succinctly captures the message quite well.