Romanticizing the Holocaust is Anything But Cute
The world is in a state of apathy-induced social turmoil. People get killed and within an hour, there are jokes online making light of the situation, as was seen in the death of Charlie Kirk. We are prone to an excess or absence of truth, which has encouraged people to dismiss the trauma of others and justify emotional ignorance. Eighty-one years after the most well-documented atrocity in history, we are still living in a time of extreme Holocaust distortion and denial.
At present, artists have created a reality in which they can challenge the facts of the Holocaust while retaining the plausible deniability of creative license. Callousness and antisemitism still serve as a powerful force for evil as they always have. But instead of calling for extermination as some overt antisemites may, writers are sewing the seeds of doubt requisite of a world that questions the autonomy of those who were oppressed.
In some cases, these words frame victims as willing participants in their own subjugation. This rhetoric allows for exploitative, morally bankrupt interpersonal relationships to be considered not only permissible, but even aspirational. It further muddies the waters of consent, and sets in motion the possibility for a dangerous societal acceptance of abuse.
In 2026, I got wind of a self-published Holocaust romance. While the book may never amount to something worth national attention, it is worrying that the premise of this story could even be considered for wide public consumption.
College students today are already in a precarious position when dealing with consent. These young adults, many of whom have yet to engage with sex and romance, are learning as they go. Most adults understand that a sexual relationship can become traumatic long before someone’s life is at risk. Yet in stories where religious and ethnic trauma takes center stage, it is confounding how champions of justice for sexual abuse victims allow romance to be entertained.
The story could have served as a remarkable opportunity for confused people to observe practical adaptations of consent dynamics at work. However, instead of making the romantic element of this story explorative of consent and desperation, this author chose to romanticize prisoner-Nazi relationships in a way which vindicates the Nazi of antisemitism while objectifying and fetishizing the Jew.
After facing backlash over the premise, the author doubled down. She argued that the book is historical fiction rather than a “Nazi romance,” and that the relationship is only one part of a larger story about war, resistance, and redemption. But that does not answer the criticism. The problem is not how much of the book is devoted to romance. It is that the romance itself places a Jewish prisoner and a Nazi within a relationship so distorted by captivity, coercion, and the threat of death that treating it as romantic fundamentally misrepresents the reality of the Holocaust.
While there is a single documented case that vaguely resembles the book’s fictional scenario, the modern understanding is that this relationship was still rife with sexual exploitation and coerced survival tactics. The briefest explanation of that relationship is that Franz Wunsch, a high-ranking SS member, became infatuated with Helena Citronova while at Auschwitz, and in turn afforded her protections in exchange for her reluctant affections.
While some may say that that relationship is consensual given Citronova’s choice to engage with Wunsch, it is unquestionable that any refusal of Wunsch’s advances could have proved fatal, thus rendering consent moot. Citronova went on to cut Wunsch off upon leaving Auschwitz, only ever reuniting with him at his war crimes trial where she testified that while he did spare and aid her, she saw him commit unbelievable atrocities toward others.
Furthermore, since the Holocaust, the few survivors who have willingly shared their accounts of sexual abuse paint a picture entirely devoid of romance, and instead rife with trauma and unbridled abuse, not only against women, but against children and men too. Some may try to beautify the abuses that occurred. However, there is undisputable evidence that these relationships were not consensual.
This brings us to today. What does it mean that we have become uncomfortable with sexual coercion in modernity, but that we lack the retrospection necessary to acknowledge the levels of abuse that occurred against Jews and other groups during the Holocaust?
Many dismiss antisemitism today as a byproduct of the war in Gaza and the actions of Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s government. However, people excusing these offenses do not recognize that antisemitism and its roots—including many of the presently used tactics and talking points—significantly predate this past war and the Netanyahu regime.
If readers feel inclined to learn about the offense to God that was the Holocaust, they must make the conscious effort to read from those who endured the event, been impacted by it, or who have studied it extensively and credibly.
First hand accounts are the best possible weapon we have against misinformation. There is a reason in our criminal justice system that hearsay is not an accepted form of evidence. Words straight from the horse’s mouth tell us not only the facts of a situation, but the feelings of them too.
Emotions, misinformation, and apathy are ravaging our culture. I implore you to read and write responsibility, and in such coldness, try to allow your hearts to be warmed and pulled by reality instead of becoming permissive to depravity.
Mara Riegel is the Director of Political Affairs at the George Washington University’s chapter of Jewish on Campus, and a fellow with the Committee for Accuracy in Middle East Reporting and Analysis (CAMERA). She is also an intern in the US House of Representatives. Opinions expressed are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect those of CAMERA.
