Today’s Musing Minute.
The Starman said.
"You are a strange species. An interesting species. You are capable of such beautiful dreams, and such horrible nightmares."
I recently posted a remembrance of Zsuzsanna “Zsuzsi” Ozsváth, the inspiration behind and founding director of the Ackerman Center at UTD. https://ackerman.utdallas.edu/
Tonight I attended one of its many events: a lecture by Tali Matas, a remarkable South African scholar of the Holocaust and of human rights.
She spoke about the growth of Holocaust studies—by which I mean *the* Holocaust, the one perpetrated by the Nazis. It was gratifying to hear that efforts to raise awareness and deepen understanding are in fact increasing. One hopes those efforts will succeed.
Yet I worry about the blunting effect of history. As the event recedes further into the past, the enormity and horror it once evoked may diminish, and it may come to be seen as merely one more among history’s many atrocities rather than something quite unique—unique in its duration, its bureaucratic efficiency, its scope, and the sheer difficulty of explaining it. The same might be said of the phenomenon of Jew-hatred itself.
This is precisely what Holocaust education must strive to communicate: a signal example of just how depraved human beings—and even an entire modern, sophisticated society—can become.
When we contemplate the Holocaust in light of current events, we see that this darker side of human nature persists. It is not buried deep within the psyche; it can appear openly and proudly, for all to see. More troubling still, it can be cultivated—from childhood to adulthood—under the right social and ideological conditions.
Extremist factions within Islam attest to this every day. Anyone who examines what they say and do with open eyes will see it: large numbers of people driven by a violent ideology that seeks the subjugation—or elimination—of “non-believers,” especially Jews but also Christians.
I generally agree that comparisons to the Nazis should be used sparingly. But in this case it is difficult not to notice certain similarities—and also a crucial difference. The Nazis often tried to conceal their crimes. The jihadists proclaim theirs openly and proudly, convinced they are doing God’s work.
A guiding credo in the West is the belief that, under the right conditions, all people can be brought to recognize the sense and justice of universal human rights—rights that apply equally to everyone, without exception for race, gender, ethnicity, or religious affiliation.
Yet there is a stubborn—and perhaps delusional—reluctance to consider the possibility that a large portion of humanity does not actually share this belief. On the contrary, some hold firmly, even religiously, to the opposite view: that only certain humans are entitled to particular freedoms (and not necessarily the full range of liberties embraced in the West), while others may justifiably be subjugated—or even killed.
To cling to the assumption that everyone ultimately shares (or, more important, can be persuaded to shere) the Western conception of universal human rights is not merely naïve. It can also be dangerous. For this illusion risks blinding us to the reality of ideological movements that explicitly reject those principles, leaving us poorly prepared to recognize or confront them.
