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History post
Oct. 17th, 2006 03:59 pmThere is a great temptation to turn the events of history into a story of Good and Evil. There is a great temptation to say of a nation that collectively committed a great crime that it reflects some flaw in that nation, that there is something in the national character that caused that, that the seeds of such evil could not possibly be in ourselves. But history is more complicated than that, and so are people.
We learn, if slowly. But also we forget. We forget that the evil that enveloped Europe some seventy years ago started years earlier, with the small things. A little here, a little there. The appeal to the need for national security in uncertain times. The appeal to people's bigotries and fears, to turn them against their neighbours.
And not just their Jewish neighbours.
Romanies. Homosexuals. Communists. Political dissidents. Religious dissidents. The list goes on and on. So does the list of the death factories that sprang up all over Europe, wherever the creed of racial or religious purity took a tight enough grip on some group in power. And on that second list is a name I did not know, not until this morning. I knew that such a place had existed, knew that it was one of the factors in a conflict that flared to fresh life nearly fifty years later, but I did not know its name. Not until one of my friends spoke of it this morning, in a way that made it more than a historical note.
That place is Jasenovac. I've read through some of the links she provided, Googled more. It is the subject of dispute, of propaganda, of bitter arguments about who died there, and how many, and what it means. But there is no hiding the fact that the argument is about whether it was hundreds of thousands who were murdered by a fascist government, or "only" tens of thousands. And they were not murdered by Germans. This is the place that shocked even some of the SS with its brutality. I'd heard *that* story before, but not the name that went with the place.
We forget. We forget because it is too painful, or too inconvenient, to remember. Especially when it reminds us that the world is not a simple place, that there isn't an easy way to label people Good or Evil. But when we forget, we risk it happening again. Anywhere. Everywhere. For it is not the unfathomable sin of one nation, but the besetting sin of a species. No nation is quite safe from it. Another name I did not know, and learned today in another discussion: Solomon Ashe. I did know the two other names mentioned: Stanley Milgram and Philip Zimbardo.
It's too much to hope of human nature that there will be no more Jasenovacs. But we *can* remember that Jasenovac happened, and that it could happen here. Wherever "here" is.
We learn, if slowly. But also we forget. We forget that the evil that enveloped Europe some seventy years ago started years earlier, with the small things. A little here, a little there. The appeal to the need for national security in uncertain times. The appeal to people's bigotries and fears, to turn them against their neighbours.
And not just their Jewish neighbours.
Romanies. Homosexuals. Communists. Political dissidents. Religious dissidents. The list goes on and on. So does the list of the death factories that sprang up all over Europe, wherever the creed of racial or religious purity took a tight enough grip on some group in power. And on that second list is a name I did not know, not until this morning. I knew that such a place had existed, knew that it was one of the factors in a conflict that flared to fresh life nearly fifty years later, but I did not know its name. Not until one of my friends spoke of it this morning, in a way that made it more than a historical note.
That place is Jasenovac. I've read through some of the links she provided, Googled more. It is the subject of dispute, of propaganda, of bitter arguments about who died there, and how many, and what it means. But there is no hiding the fact that the argument is about whether it was hundreds of thousands who were murdered by a fascist government, or "only" tens of thousands. And they were not murdered by Germans. This is the place that shocked even some of the SS with its brutality. I'd heard *that* story before, but not the name that went with the place.
We forget. We forget because it is too painful, or too inconvenient, to remember. Especially when it reminds us that the world is not a simple place, that there isn't an easy way to label people Good or Evil. But when we forget, we risk it happening again. Anywhere. Everywhere. For it is not the unfathomable sin of one nation, but the besetting sin of a species. No nation is quite safe from it. Another name I did not know, and learned today in another discussion: Solomon Ashe. I did know the two other names mentioned: Stanley Milgram and Philip Zimbardo.
It's too much to hope of human nature that there will be no more Jasenovacs. But we *can* remember that Jasenovac happened, and that it could happen here. Wherever "here" is.