http://www.spiegel.de/international/spiegel/0,1518,338597,00.html

January 24, 2005

LIBERATION OF AUSCHWITZ
As Long as We Can Breathe, We Can Hope

Auschwitz survivor Anita Lasker-Wallfisch, 79, was saved from the gas
chambers by her ability to play the cello. In an interview with SPIEGEL,
she talks about her fate as a Jew in the Third Reich, the daily terror
she experienced in the concentration camps, and the German commemoration
of the Holocaust.

SPIEGEL: Ms. Lasker-Wallfisch, you were 18 when you were deported to the
Auschwitz concentration camp in 1943. Can you recall your first
impressions?

Lasker-Wallfisch: It was night and it was loud. Dogs were barking,
people were shouting and there was a stench, that was my impression. And
people wearing black capes. The overseers wore these capes. It was
bizarre, and it quickly became obvious that we had not arrived in a good
place.

SPIEGEL: Was anyone shooting?

Lasker-Wallfisch: No, they didn't need that. After all, there were gas
chambers. And people also died of other causes. I can understand why
they picked January 27, the day of (the) liberation (of the
concentration camp Auschwitz), as a day of remembrance. Everything
happened at Auschwitz, everything.

SPIEGEL: You were forced to spend about a year there, until the end of
1944. To what extent does this period dominate your consciousness?

Lasker-Wallfisch: It doesn't dominate my consciousness, but of course
I'm aware of it. And ever since I started giving talks in schools about
this period of my life, I've become even more aware of it than I used to
be.

SPIEGEL: You wrote a book about your time in Auschwitz, and you read
excerpts from it at public readings. Has this process of dealing with
the past healed any wounds?

Lasker-Wallfisch: No. Only one thing has changed for me. I'm no longer
angry with the people who, for decades, didn't ask me what happened back
then. But no, it hasn't been liberating. I feel that it's my duty, in a
sense, to talk about and report on this time of my life. Millions of
people can no longer talk, and we are, in a manner of speaking, the
voice of those who can no longer talk about what happened to them,
because they were killed.

SPIEGEL: Your father was a lawyer in Breslau (Wroclaw, Poland), and your
mother was a musician. Why didn't the Laskers emigrate as many other
middle-class families did?

Lasker-Wallfisch: We were a typical German Jewish family and fully
assimilated. My father fought for the Germans in World War I and he was
awarded the Iron Cross, along with everything that went with it. He was
a patriotic German. I don't know if you've ever been to Auschwitz and
seen the prosthetic limbs they have on display there. Most of them
belonged to people who were injured in World War I.

SPIEGEL: Judaism wasn't especially important in many assimilated
families. Was that the case in your family?

Lasker-Wallfisch: You know, being Jewish is problematic. Most people
really don't know what exactly it means to be a Jew. We belong to a
community of suffering, and that's what binds us together. But we are
also extremely diverse. That's something I wish people who hate Jews as
a group because they think they're so different would understand. We're
also completely different within our own group! Essentially, we're just
part of a community that has suffered a great deal, and not just in the
Holocaust.

SPIEGEL: Many survivors say that it was really the Nazis who made them
Jews.

Lasker-Wallfisch: Yes, that's true. In school they told me I was a Jew,
"a filthy Jew." At first I asked myself what exactly that was. But then
I began to understand. I was a Jew, I was a member of the Jewish faith,
the Jewish community. Recently, when I was giving a reading at a school,
someone asked me: "If it was so dangerous to be Jewish, why didn't you
convert to Christianity?" My response was: "It's not as easy you think.
When you're a Jew, you're a Jew.

SPIEGEL: Your parents were deported in 1942 and killed a short time
later. You and your sister, Renate, were forced to work in a paper
factory. How were the conditions there?

Lasker-Wallfisch: You know, everything in life is relative. It was
better to be in the paper factory than in the munitions factory. Of
course, when I think about it now, it certainly was not pleasant. We
were together with French prisoners of war, as well as Polish women and
other forced laborers.

SPIEGEL: As a Jew, were you already put into a special category in this
factory?

Lasker-Wallfisch: I don't think so. Everyone there was simply treated as
sub-human.

SPIEGEL: Jews were already required to wear the yellow Star of David at
that time. Anyone on the street could tell that you and your sister were
Jews. How did the non-Jewish Germans react? With ignorance or pity or
hatred?

Lasker-Wallfisch: They certainly didn't pity us. But I can't look into
other people's heads. My aunt -- my mother's sister -- was tall and
blonde and had a stubby nose. In other words, she was the Germanic type.
Apparently, when she put on the yellow star, people would turn around
and say: "That's impossible. Jews don't look like that."

SPIEGEL: No one ever expressed anything like sympathy toward you?

Lasker-Wallfisch: I can only think of one episode. You know, we weren't
permitted to sit inside the streetcars. We had to stand outside on the
platform. I was standing there one day, wearing my yellow star, when I
was spotted by the mother of a fellow student in the small private
school I had attended before I had to switch to the Jewish school. This
woman -- she was a noblewoman whose name, unfortunately, escapes me --
got up and stood next to me. I'll never forget that. I thought it was
amazing.

SPIEGEL: But that only happened once?

Lasker-Wallfisch: Yes. There were certainly other people who didn't
agree with what was going on. But no one had the courage to do anything
about it. Everyone was afraid of everyone else, worried that they'd be
denounced.

SPIEGEL: Were you afraid at the time?

Lasker-Wallfisch: I don't know. At least we didn't behave as if we were
afraid. In fact, my sister and I even forged documents for the French
prisoners of war. We knew how to write using Sütterlinschrift (an
old-fashioned style of German handwriting used in official documents of
the period), you know. We also had opportunities to get them civilian
clothing. At the time, I probably thought that if they caught me, at
least it would be for something that was actually forbidden and not just
because I happened to be Jewish.

SPIEGEL: Were the prisoners of war able to flee using the forged papers?

Lasker-Wallfisch: Yes. They got out by the dozens.

SPIEGEL: And did the Gestapo find out?

Lasker-Wallfisch: No, but they did find out that we were talking to the
French people through a hole in the bathroom wall. One day the hole was
bricked over. That's when my sister and I knew that they were on to us.
So we said to ourselves: Now it's time to get out of here. But we didn't
make it very far. They stopped us at the Breslau train station.

SPIEGEL: And they put you on trial?

Lasker-Wallfisch: Yes, but it turned out to be a blessing in disguise.
We were charged with document forgery and sent to prison for a year, and
that was when the last Jews were taken away from Breslau. We soon
realized that we were better off in prison than at Auschwitz.

SPIEGEL: Many Germans today claim that they were unaware at the time of
the situation in the extermination camps.

Lasker-Wallfisch: Let me tell you something: We, my sister and I that
is, had heard about the gas chambers. But we didn't believe it.

SPIEGEL: When did you realize that the rumors were true?

Lasker-Wallfisch: My sister Renate met a girl in prison who had been
sent there from Auschwitz. This girl told her that the things they were
saying about Auschwitz were true. But we still refused to believe it.
I'm not trying to make excuses for people who nowadays say that they
didn't know what was going on. I accept that many Germans had no idea
about what was happening in the concentration camps. On the other hand,
there were many people who lived near the concentration camps. They
could have asked themselves: What happens to the people who are
imprisoned there?

SPIEGEL: Are you saying that even while you were being taken to the
camp, you still hoped that you would leave it alive?

Lasker-Wallfisch: I believe that as long as we breathe, we continue to
hope. The whole thing was set up very cleverly. The people who were torn
from their normal lives and put on the trains may have heard that
terrible things were happening in Auschwitz, but even up to the end,
they kept on thinking: Perhaps it isn't so bad after all. And then they
arrived and the SS told them: "The old people and the sick can take the
truck. Anyone who is still young can walk." It took us a while to
realize that the ones who were being driven were really being taken to
the gas chambers. And even when they arrived there, they were simply
told: "You'll be taking a shower now and then you'll get some soup. Tie
your shoes together and be careful," and so on. Then the people would
start thinking to themselves: Well, it can't be so bad after all. They
told them to tie their shoes together -- do you understand? It was a
form of hypnosis. Of course, some knew what was going on. But for the
most part, these people allowed themselves to be lied to until the very
last moment.

SPIEGEL: What was the procedure when you arrived at Auschwitz?

Lasker-Wallfisch: They shaved my head and then I was tattooed. But other
prisoners were the ones doing the shaving and tattooing, and they kept
asking us: "What's happening outside?"

SPIEGEL: So you had conversations with them?

Lasker-Wallfisch: Of course. Someone asked me: "Will the war be over
soon? What was it you used to do?" And what I said next probably saved
my life. I said: "I play the cello." "Fantastic," was the person's
response. I really didn't understand that at first. Here I am in
Auschwitz and they need cellists? It seemed completely crazy to me.

SPIEGEL: How did the procedure continue?

Lasker-Wallfisch: Well, first they went away and I was left standing
there, naked, bald and with a toothbrush in my hand. It wasn't until
later that I understood what that meant. Naturally, the people in
Auschwitz didn't get toothbrushes. That was the first privilege, a
toothbrush. And then Alma Rose approached me...

SPIEGEL: ... the niece of Gustav Mahler and a renowned musician who
directed the camp orchestra in Auschwitz...

Lasker-Wallfisch: ... exactly. And all she said was: "Wonderful, we need
a cello. We don't have a cello here."

SPIEGEL: Were there even instruments?

Lasker-Wallfisch: You have to think of it this way: Auschwitz was one of
the wealthiest places in the world. Everyone who was deported there had
been in such a hurry that they were only able to take along the things
they loved the most. Well, of course, a musician would take along her
instrument. But then they would take these precious possessions away
from the prisoners once they arrived. All these things were kept in a
part of the camp the prisoners called "Canada." It was like a giant
warehouse.

SPIEGEL: Who was allowed to play in the orchestra?

Lasker-Wallfisch: Well, I was the only one who played a deeper-toned
instrument. The others were flutes, guitars, not exactly what you'd
imagine as part of an orchestra. It was a mixture of instruments. Some
of the violinists barely knew how to play. But that was all Alma had to
work with, and she was successful.

SPIEGEL: Auschwitz survivors say they can remember that the orchestra
used to play at the camp gate in the mornings and evenings.

Lasker-Wallfisch: Yes, we had to play marches in the morning, when
thousands of prisoners were marched out to the surrounding factories and
in the evening, when they returned. We spent the rest of the day
practicing and learning new pieces. We were "the show piece," in a
manner of speaking. I assume that whenever someone came to tour
Auschwitz, they would be taken to our section -- and no place else.

SPIEGEL: Were your quarters near the gate?

Lasker-Wallfisch: Not close to the gate, but very close to the gas
chamber. We were in section 12, adjacent to the camp road. We saw
everything that went on.

SPIEGEL: You understood right away what was happening in the
crematoriums?

Lasker-Wallfisch: Most people realized that right away. And if they
didn't figure it out on their own, someone told them. People would say
things like: "I arrived here with my mother. Where is she?" The answer
was obvious.

SPIEGEL: How much contact did you have with the camp's top SS men?

Lasker-Wallfisch: Not much, but any of them could walk into our section
at any time and say: "Play something for me." I once had to play
Schumann's Träumerei for Josef Mengele. I suppose he was a musical man.

SPIEGEL: Did you know who he was?

Lasker-Wallfisch: Absolutely. We knew everything.

SPIEGEL: There has also been some public debate over whether the Allies
should have bombed Auschwitz.

Lasker-Wallfisch: Yes, I know. I'm one of those people who believes that
perhaps they should have bombed the camp. But it wouldn't have taken the
Germans long to repair the tracks again, one or two days at the most.
But then, of course, the debate is really about a much larger issue: How
important were the Jews in Auschwitz to the rest of the world?

SPIEGEL: What do you think?

Lasker-Wallfisch: No, the Jews were clearly not a priority. We have to
be honest about this. Save a few Jews? "First we have to win the war,
and then we'll take care of the rest" -- that's what people were saying
everywhere.

SPIEGEL: Were there any guards who behaved humanely?

Lasker-Wallfisch: No. There was a very strict hierarchy at Auschwitz. We
had very little direct contact with the Germans. After all, they had
invented the overseer system for a reason. The people who yelled at us
were prisoners themselves, overseers who would tell us that everything
had to be in its place, that we were supposed to do this or that.

SPIEGEL: Did you despise the overseers?

Lasker-Wallfisch: Not all were bad. Of course, we were afraid of them.
Some were horrible.

SPIEGEL: In late 1944, you and your sister Renate were taken to
Bergen-Belsen. What this concentration camp just as tightly organized as
Auschwitz?

Lasker-Wallfisch: It was chaotic there, completely chaotic compared to
Auschwitz. Most of all, there was nothing left to eat. But we felt
tremendously lucky to have been taken away from Auschwitz and its gas
chambers.

SPIEGEL: Had the Germans lost control over what was going on in
Bergen-Belsen?

Lasker-Wallfisch: That's possible. The commander of the concentration
camp, Josef Kramer, must have been a complete idiot. As we learned later
on, there were food supplies in the surrounding area and they could have
fed us. But when we arrived in Bergen-Belsen as part of a shipment of
about 3,000 people, which probably included Anne Frank, nothing was
working. We were housed in tents because there was no room left in the
buildings. We slept on the bare ground. One night all the tents were
knocked down in a powerful storm, and we spent the rest of the night
standing in the freezing rain. We weren't housed in barracks until
later.

SPIEGEL: A number of deadly epidemics took hold in the concentration
camp in the spring of 1945 ...

Lasker-Wallfisch: ... and that's when the mass dying began. It was the
time of the death marches from all the camps in the east to
Bergen-Belsen. Those people were completely exhausted.

SPIEGEL: The British army liberated the camp in April 1945. How were the
British received?

Lasker-Wallfisch: It was an odd situation. Kramer, the camp commander,
actually believed he could negotiate some sort of cease-fire, so the
Germans held up white flags and began walking toward the British. "Okay,
we'll let you go if you turn the camp over to us," the British said.
They thought it was a POW camp...

SPIEGEL: ... and were shocked to find out what it really was.

Lasker-Wallfisch: None of them had ever seen anything like it. Thousands
of dead, nothing but corpses, corpses and decay. It was already quite
hot that April, and it was terrible. The British were horrified. You
see, we prisoners were so used to it that the corpses didn't seem all
that unusual to us.

SPIEGEL: Did you even have enough strength left to celebrate your
liberation?

Lasker-Wallfisch: I wouldn't say there was dancing in the streets. It
was like a dream. We couldn't believe it.

SPIEGEL: Why didn't you leave Bergen-Belsen right away? The third and
eldest of the Lasker sisters, Marianne, had managed to emigrate to Great
Britain, the only member of your family to do so.

Lasker-Wallfisch: Well, you've hit on a very touchy issue. That, of
course, is the scandal that happened back then, in 1945. We were what
they called displaced persons, but no country was willing to say to us:
"Okay, you can live here." Of course we wanted to get out. But it took
another eleven months until we were finally able to go to England.

SPIEGEL: When was the first time you visited Germany again?

Lasker-Wallfisch: Almost half a century later. I think it was 1994. I
was a member of the English Chamber Orchestra, and I received my travel
schedule once a month. Suddenly there were concerts in Soltau and Celle
on the schedule, places not far from Bergen-Belsen.

SPIEGEL: But the orchestra had of course performed in Germany before.

Lasker-Wallfisch: I never went along, and everyone knew why. But when I
saw the names Soltau and Celle on the schedule, I thought to myself: I
have to see what happened to Belsen.

SPIEGEL: You travel to Germany frequently now. Do you agree with the way
Germans commemorate the Holocaust?

Lasker-Wallfisch: Yes and no. I've had some very good experiences
reading in schools. But I'm also a little concerned about over-exposing
young people. There's always something about the Holocaust playing on TV
in Germany. It's a bit much for young people to handle. The important
thing is not to talk so much about what happened back then; it's more
important to apply experiences from the past to the current situation. I
think there is a risk that the Holocaust will be placed under a glass
bubble just like the Napoleonic Wars or the Thirty Years' War. If you
don't make the connection between memories of past atrocities and the
present, there isn't any point to it. There are plenty of horrible
things happening today in Germany and in the rest of the world.

SPIEGEL: Ms. Lasker-Wallfisch, thank you for this interview.

Translated from the German by Christopher Sultan

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