Holocaust Tourism at Auschwitz-Birkenau

The significance of place is sort of my thing – as you all know. I spend a lot of time in the classroom discussing places of historical memory, how these places intersect with history, and especially how institutions, whether they be governmental or private, choose to convey that history to the public. The best way to understand how this all works, of course, is to visit the places and see for oneself.  

Even though I am an Americanist who specializes in the Civil War and Reconstruction (lots to visit relatively close by) I have always wanted to visit Auschwitz. This particular place is inarguably the most recognizable in terms of Holocaust history. We all know the images: the Arbeit Macht Frei gate at Auschwitz I; the structure through which the trains entered Auschwitz II (Birkenau) – shuttling Jews from across Europe to their deaths. As a scholar of historical memory and history, I am curious about how the institution wrestled with the horrific truth: the grotesque efficiency of this most infamous Nazi camp.   

So, here’s my two (or three) cents. Auschwitz comes across as a typical tourist destination. Brightly colored busses with the names of extermination/concentration camps emblazoned on the side (I almost expected: See! Auschwitz!) souvenir shops promoting magnets and other gifts, Ben and Jerry’s (seriously), and long lines of tourists processed through tight security and identification checks and then ushered through carefully curated exhibits at Auschwitz I – many stopping to ham it up for selfies in front of famous landmarks.

Auschwitz II – Birkenau, was less congested, but still sanitized and scripted for tourists. There was little room for contemplation, with the exception of a small grassy area near the gas chamber/crematoria ruins. On one hand I will give Polish government credit for preserving (or reconstructing) barracks so visitors can see how the Nazis forced human beings to live. On the other I found it odd that our group was accompanied by representatives from the institution…who always followed us, lest our guide strayed from the official narrative. As I understand things, the Polish government is not keen on the expression “Polish Death Camps” or any suggestion that Poles were in any way complicit. There is a national law forbidding it, in fact.     

So, the experience was in many ways off-putting – Holocaust tourism…gawking at tragedy. I mean, I am no stranger to the history-meets-the-carnival atmosphere. But I have always found it a strange juxtaposition (at such places as Gettysburg) to find people laughing, playing, and just having a dandy time in the very spots where people suffered, struggled for their lives, and died. It seems even stranger at Auschwitz. I found myself having to separate, or rather, turn off overstimulating noise to grapple with what happened here – and to take away meaning. 

My suggestion to those who are planning a visit. Think about the people. Focus on the vast piles of personal items. The shoes struck me most. They are all weathered with time and at first blush seem indistinguishable from each other. But with a closer look - one notices a flourish of red or blue, a wing tip or cap toe, a stylish heel. Hints of individuality. I had to use my imagination here: I couldn’t stop thinking about people shopping for shoes in better times, trying them on, choosing what suited them best, buying them - not knowing that they would be wearing them as they marched to their deaths…

The same goes for the suitcases, eyeglasses, hairbrushes. The personal items on display hit hardest – because these items represent individual people. Their names are perhaps lost to history now, but they were individuals nonetheless, with ambitions, hopes, loves. And these were their things.     

With compliments,

Keith