Confronting Hate: 80 Years after Auschwitz

Eighty years ago, on January 27, 1945, a Ukrainian unit of the Soviet forces liberated Auschwitz-Birkenau, the largest and most infamous Nazi death camp. For many, this moment symbolizes the triumph of life over death, the resilience of the human spirit, and the enduring commitment to “Never Again.” Yet, as we mark this solemn anniversary, the lessons of Auschwitz feel increasingly urgent. Rising antisemitism, Holocaust distortion, and the erosion of historical memory threaten to undermine the legacy of those who perished and those who survived.

For 18 years, I’ve stood on the grounds of Auschwitz as an educator and guide for the March of the Living, leading students through the barracks, gas chambers, and ash pits that bear silent testimony to the depths of human cruelty. These moments are seared into my memory: a student breaking down upon seeing piles of shoes, a survivor’s trembling voice as they recount their story, or the haunting silence of the camp at dusk. Each year, I’ve watched young people grapple with profound questions about identity, morality, and responsibility. Each year, I’ve seen how this experience transforms them, connecting them to history and their Jewish identity in ways that textbooks never could.

But this work goes beyond walking the grounds of Auschwitz or reciting the names of the murdered. It’s about equipping students—and our broader communities—with the tools to confront hate today. As I recently reminded students during a presentation on Holocaust legacy, Auschwitz is not just a place frozen in history; it’s a warning of how unchecked hatred, propaganda, and indifference can metastasize into atrocity.

This anniversary is not merely a moment to look back but also a call to action. According to recent studies, Holocaust knowledge among younger generations is alarmingly low. A 2020 survey revealed that nearly two-thirds of U.S. millennials and Gen Z did not know that six million Jews were murdered during the Holocaust. Even more troubling, antisemitic incidents in the United States reached an all-time high last year, with swastikas defacing schools, synagogues targeted, and hate speech flourishing online.

In my years of speaking out against antisemitism, I have seen firsthand how hate adapts to new platforms and disguises itself in new ideologies. What begins as a joke or a dismissive comment about Jewish stereotypes can snowball into real-world harm. We saw this in the rise of Kanye West’s antisemitic tirades and the social media firestorm that normalized his hateful rhetoric. We see it in the denial of Jewish pain and the minimization of Jewish identity in social justice spaces. And we see it in global movements to distort or diminish the Holocaust, denying survivors their dignity and rewriting history to suit political agendas.

Confronting this requires more than outrage. It demands education, allyship, and moral clarity. Education, to preserve the truth of what happened at Auschwitz and elsewhere. Allyship, to remind the world that antisemitism is not just a Jewish problem but a human problem. And moral clarity, to recognize that indifference and neutrality in the face of hate are themselves forms of complicity.

The 80th anniversary of Auschwitz’s liberation is an opportunity to recommit to these values. It’s a chance to ask ourselves: Are we doing enough to ensure that the horrors of Auschwitz are not forgotten? Are we raising our children to be upstanders, not bystanders? Are we building coalitions across communities to fight hate in all its forms?

For me, these questions are deeply personal. Raised in a traditional Jewish home, my identity has been shaped by the stories of my ancestors, their resilience in the face of unimaginable loss, and my obligation to carry their legacy forward. My parents instilled in me a sense of duty—not just to remember but to act. This sense of duty drives my work, whether guiding students through Poland, delivering presentations on antisemitism, or officiating life cycle events where Jewish pride is celebrated.

The survivors of Auschwitz taught us that memory is not passive. It is an active, living responsibility. On this 80th anniversary, let us honor their legacy by ensuring that the world remembers—not just what was lost but what must be fought for every day: truth, justice, and the dignity of all people.

Auschwitz stands as a grave marker for humanity’s darkest chapter. But it also serves as a beacon, reminding us of our capacity for resilience and our responsibility to ensure that “Never Again” is not just a promise but a practice. Let us rise to meet that responsibility—for the survivors, for the six million, and for generations yet unborn.