The Painful Parallels Between Auschwitz and Gaza
Standing at Auschwitz, I felt history's warning: silence and indifference fuel atrocities. Gaza today echoes those horrors. We must speak out. Never again, anywhere.
As I walked through the roads and buildings of Auschwitz, the rusted bricks whispered stories of pain and loss that words can scarcely capture. Every step felt heavy, each corner a silent witness to unspeakable horrors. Amidst this profound weight, I stumbled upon a memorial flagstone bearing the words of Ronald S. Lauder:
“World silence led to Auschwitz. World indifference led to Auschwitz. World anti-Semitism led to Auschwitz. Do not let this happen again.”
In that moment, these words pierced through my heart, mind, and soul. They were not just a reflection of the past, but a glaring warning for the present. I stood there, tears welling uncontrollably, unable to hold back the torrent of emotions. The enormity of what these words meant hit me like a tidal wave: we have seen this before. We know what silence and indifference can do. The world promised, swore, it would never let it happen again. And yet, here we are.
Desperate to find some semblance of solace, I took to 'X', a platform that ironically has become a breeding ground for the very fascism that Lauder’s words warned against. I wrote:
"As I stand at Auschwitz, the weight of history is palpable—a reminder of the horrific consequences of silence, indifference, and hatred. Yet, as I reflect on these lessons from the past, I am struck by the painful parallels unfolding today in Gaza. The echoes of suffering, displacement, and human rights violations are unmistakable. We must not remain silent. History warns us that indifference only deepens the wounds of humanity."
But as those words went out into the digital void, I was met with silence. Not a single response. Not a single acknowledgment. Since that day on August 28, when I stood at Auschwitz and shared these reflections, there has been nothing but a deafening, complicit silence. The irony is painful: the very platform that should amplify calls for justice is busy justifying Nazi-styled atrocities in Gaza in the name of the Jewish people. The narrative has been twisted, bent, and contorted until it’s unrecognisable, a grotesque mimicry of the very injustices it seeks to condemn.
To hear, again and again, that the Jewish people are unsafe, that they are disliked, feels almost surreal in this context. How can we expect the world to stand in solidarity, to find common ground, when a leader who mimics the darkest chapters of history claims to act in their name? How can we reconcile the plea for safety and respect with the relentless bombardment and starvation of an entire people in Gaza?
It’s not just about politics or policy—it’s about humanity. It’s about looking at a mother clutching her child in the rubble, about seeing the haunted eyes of a boy who has seen more death than any child should, and asking ourselves: Have we learned nothing? Are we truly willing to stand by, just as the world did when Auschwitz was in operation, and let history repeat itself under the guise of security and self-defence?
The reality is that we are failing, miserably. We are failing not just the people of Gaza, but the memory of those who perished in Auschwitz and every other place where hate was allowed to flourish unchecked. When we see the parallels between Gaza and the atrocities of the past, it is not an accusation; it is a cry for humanity to do better, to be better.
As I walked out of Auschwitz, my tears had not yet dried, and my heart felt heavier than ever. We are living in a world where the lessons of history are not just ignored but actively denied. Where the cries of the oppressed are met with rationalizations and excuses. Where the call to "Never again" has been reduced to a hollow mantra, repeated but not lived.
It is our responsibility—yours, mine, all of us—to speak out, to act, and to ensure that these tragedies do not repeat themselves, whether in Auschwitz, in Gaza, or anywhere in the world. To let silence reign now, to let indifference go unchallenged, is to betray not just the past, but the future. It is to turn our backs on the very essence of what it means to be human. We must not let it happen again.
This short video below captures the entrance to the gas chambers where innocent civilians were led inside, subjected to poison gas, and systematically killed.