Baroness
HelicCredit: Times Newspapers Ltd
I
spent weeks thinking about it.
I
knew the facts of the Holocaust. But Sophie’s story made it real for me:
gave faces to victims, and emotion to the past.
Stories
always seem to have more power than statistics. That is why the testimony of
survivors is so important.
They
tell us about mankind at its worst – but in their very presence offer hope and
affirm humanity’s resilience.
As
the memory of the Holocaust recedes further into the past, the task of keeping
testimony alive, of telling stories, becomes all the more important.
The
Holocaust should not just be a piece of history, but
a constant rebuke.
It
is not enough to know what happened: to remember – truly remember, not just
passingly acknowledge – we must act.
That
means challenging anti-Semitism, racism and hatred.
It
means looking for signs of atrocities around the world, and acting to prevent
them before they take place.
And
it means giving space to survivors to tell their stories, as much as possible –
for it is their words which are our most powerful weapon against apathy and
ill-intent.
Holocaust
Memorial Day offers a chance to hear those stories.
It is a crucial opportunity to magnify survivors’ voices – and
in doing so to challenge genocide denial, the insidious force which is so often
the precursor or gateway to greater discrimination.
It
is a crucial opportunity to magnify survivors’ voices – and in doing so to
challenge genocide denial, the insidious force which is so often the precursor
or gateway to greater discrimination.
I
have seen how this works. When I read Sophie’s Choice, I sought to understand
the evil it described.
I
was desperate to make sense of how such atrocities could happen. I did not
expect that, within a few years, the country of my birth, Bosnia and
Herzegovina, would itself witness genocide.
The
mass killings of Bosniaks were not on the same scale as the Holocaust,
but the intent and approach was the same: to destroy an entire group of people,
in pursuit of corrupted ideas of ethnic purity and a land free of the vilified
‘other’.
The
architects of the genocide are dead or in prison, convicted by the
International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia.
But
many of their acolytes and fellow travellers remain active in politics in the
Balkans. Genocide denial is rife.
War
criminals are regularly celebrated.
The
Mayor of Srebrenica – the town where 8,000 men and boys were killed by Bosnian
Serb and Serbian forces, solely because they were Muslim – is himself a denier
of the massacre that happened in his town, less than thirty years ago.
Government
officials in Republika Srpska – one of the two entities which together comprise
the state of Bosnia-Herzegovina – have refused to acknowledge or comply with a
new law, introduced last summer, banning genocide denial and the glorification
of war criminals.
Genocide
denial is not academic. Just as Holocaust denial is usually rooted in deep
anti-Semitism, so those who seek to downplay the events in Bosnia of the 1990s
do so with malicious intent.
Ultra-nationalists
aim not just to redeem the memory of the perpetrators of genocide, but to cast
them as the victims of an anti-Serb conspiracy – and to suggest that Bosnians
Serbs continue to be discriminated against, and need their nationalist
political leaders to protect them.
The
Auschwitz concentration camp was in occupied PolandCredit:
Getty
Their
rhetoric is deliberately designed to foster resentment, exacerbate tensions,
and bolster their own political positions.
Talking
about historical injustice and inventing anti-Serb conspiracies, claiming a
stab in the back, distracts from the corruption and stagnation over which they
preside – and prepares the ground for a renewal of the same policies of ethnic
cleansing which their predecessors pursued.
Bosnia
is not the only country to have experienced genocide in the years since the
Holocaust.
Cambodia,
Rwanda and Darfur have all been scene to terrible crimes. In the last decade
the Rohingya in Myanmar and the Yazidis in Iraq have been the victims of
genocide.
This is why survivors’ testimony matters. Not just to remember
the past, but to shape the future.
The
ongoing treatment of the Uyghurs in Xinjiang, where crimes against humanity are
being perpetrated on an industrial scale, almost certainly amounts to genocide.
In
all these cases, dehumanisation is at the heart of genocide. The victims are
cast as lesser, worthless, backwards, at once barely worth consideration yet
also a deadly threat.
Those
who incite genocide deal in emotions, not facts: fear, anger, hatred. It takes
empathy to counter them.
This
is why survivors’ testimony matters. Not just to remember the past, but to
shape the future.
Survivors
remind us of our shared humanity. Their stories are a bulwark against
hate.
They
show the individual, the person like us, not the enemy that perpetrators seek
to depict.
And
in reaching our hearts, their stories call us to act: to counter denial, to
break down divisions, and always to seek tolerance, equality and respect.
As
we remember the Holocaust, let us remember that honouring the memory of victims
also requires us to ensure that the horrors they encountered must never be
suffered again.

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