Joshua Rocker writes about why he decided to produce a film honouring the memory of Holocaust survivor Leon Greenman for artistic exhibition Our Freedom: Then and Now
December 3, 2025 16:26
The year is 1994. A brick has been thrown through 83-year-old Leon Greenman’s downstairs window. He receives the message that someone is out to kill him. The glass is repaired, but the house has to be covered in wire mesh panels for protection. It looks like a prison. The irony isn’t lost on Leon. Fifty years earlier, he’d been behind wire as a slave labourer in the concentration camps. Leon was the only English survivor of Auschwitz.
Sixty arts centres around the country have been participating in the Our Freedom: Then and Now project, commemorating the end of the Second World War. Last week, JW3 launched their contribution – an exhibition and podcast series reflecting on the Holocaust.
I was one of 15 young creatives who took part, and decided to make a short film to honour Leon. I was only seven when I first met him, but he signed his testimony to me: “Read, think, and tell people.” Looking back, it was quite a responsibility put onto younger me, but I’ve tried my best to keep this promise.
The film is displayed on a television inside a metal cage. Despite the theme of the exhibition, Leon was never free. The mesh around his windows was a physical manifestation of mental imprisonment. He couldn’t rebuild his life after the camps, instead becoming fully dedicated to Holocaust education, even when the world wasn’t ready to hear. He was a pioneer (he gave his first public talk in 1946!) and I don’t think he receives anywhere near the recognition he deserves.
As the saying goes, actions speak louder than words. For Leon, talking wasn’t enough. Prejudice, of any kind, had to be combatted. He became a dedicated activist with the Anti-Nazi League, at a time when the British National Party was gaining momentum. Tensions were rising after a spate of racist murders in south London, which culminated in the killing of black teenager Stephen Lawrence. In response, he led a march of tens of thousands, calling for the closure of the BNP HQ.
Leon’s prominence made him a target for the far right. Combat 18, a neo-Nazi organisation, took responsibility for the attack on his house. One of his Holocaust lectures was petrol-bombed. He was sent antisemitic Christmas cards, lamenting the fact he hadn’t been turned into a lampshade.
But Leon, who died in 2008, wasn’t going to be scared into silence. He continued to demonstrate and teach. He didn’t want anyone to suffer like he had, and knew all too well where hate could lead. That’s why he stood shoulder to shoulder with other communities when they were the targets. In turn, his tireless activism showed them why the Holocaust is eternally relevant. Why everyone has a duty to keep Holocaust memory alive.
Now, with the staggering increase in Holocaust denial and trivialisation, Leon’s message of tolerance and empathy is exactly what’s needed. As depressing as the last few years have been, I don’t think we can afford to look only inward. Antisemitism is real, so we have to strengthen the case that the Holocaust is a lesson for all mankind. Learning about it makes the world a safer place – for everyone.
When the future looks uncertain, I use Leon’s story to help ground and guide me. It reminds me to try and show compassion to others, even when it’s challenging.
Like Leon, there are so many other wonderful people featured as part of the exhibition. They’re given the chance to inspire again, through the myriad of clever and creative ways in which they’re being remembered. By using these individuals as a gateway into Holocaust education, we can try and humanise a number so great as six million. It’s imperative we keep their voices heard. It’s our responsibility. Read. Think. And tell people.
Our Freedom: Then and Now is at JW3 until December 10
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