Holocaust memory is failing – and antisemitism is rising across the West

The thought process was straightforward. Teach about the slippery slope that led from dehumanisation of the Jews to their destruction. Talk about the human capacity for evil, including in a German society regarded as highly educated and culturally advanced. Focus on the respective roles of the perpetrators, rescuers and bystanders. Learn the consequences of Jewish powerlessness, of widespread indifference to the Jews’ fate, of closed borders. Give life to the martyrs by talking about them as individuals, not just as numbers. It would all add up to awareness, solidarity, and, if needed, action.

But now the resurgence of antisemitism – and the demonisation of the lone Jewish-majority nation, Israel – are stark reminders that, whatever progress might have been made earlier, something has gone terribly wrong. The firewall is crumbling. Some are asking if echoes of the 1930s are back.

Indeed, times have changed.

With each passing day, Holocaust survivors, rescuers, liberators, and eyewitnesses are fewer and fewer in number to bear witness, tell their stories, meet with young people.

To many in our contemporary world, history itself is of declining interest, all the more so when the events were 80 to 90 years ago. Or when attention spans seem to be ever shorter, with pivotal historical events reduced to a single image or phrase at best, more likely shaped by unreliable social media platforms than eyewitness accounts by Primo Levi or Elie Wiesel.

For some, a kind of “Holocaust fatigue” has set in, wondering aloud if there’s an expiration date on references to Jewish suffering, asking when it’s time to move on and leave the past behind, or questioning why other human tragedies don’t get equal attention.

Above all, three developments should be of utmost concern.

First, whatever constraints on antisemitic statements, including Holocaust denial or trivialisation, existed in postwar democratic societies as a result of Holocaust awareness, they’re largely gone now. Indeed, those statements have been moving from the margins to the mainstream. The taboo has been lifted. Consequences are all too rare.

Second, massive demographic changes in western Europe, North America, and Australia have made it far more difficult to educate about the Holocaust and draw from it lessons of civic responsibility. From lack of knowledge to active resistance, new audiences often pose major challenges for those seeking to preserve memory and stress its enduring relevance.

And third, the Holocaust has increasingly been flipped on its head, as libellous accusations are repeatedly levelled against Israel and Jews worldwide for acting like “Nazis”, supporting “genocide”, treating Palestinians “as Jews were once treated”, or turning Gaza into the “new Warsaw Ghetto”.

None of these immense challenges has an easy solution. The passage of time is a reality. So, too, the fading of history into the distant past. Social media usage will not soon be replaced by serious scholarly study. Weaponisation of the Holocaust against its victims has become ever more ingrained.

The deadly virus of antisemitism once again proves its resilience and adaptability. And on it goes.

Yet, we dare not simply give up or give in. Too much hangs in the balance – for Jews, for liberal democratic societies, for humankind. Cultural and educational innovation is required, involving the most knowledgeable and up-to-date communicators, story tellers, and educators.

At heart, several lessons of the 1930s and 1940s are timeless. They must be conveyed not just for the sake of the past, but, even more, for the sake of the future.

For starters, there was a total failure of imagination. Too few took Hitler at his word. That included some Jews who thought their Iron Crosses for bravery in the First World War and love of Beethoven and Schiller would somehow protect them. Academy Award-winning Billy Wilder, who fled Europe in 1934 to settle in the US, said it most starkly: “The optimists died in the gas chambers, the pessimists have swimming pools in Beverly Hills.”

Moreover, appeasement is not a strategy. Britain and France tried it in the 1930s. They failed abysmally. Up against true believers and hard-core ideologues, whether Nazis then or Iranian mullahs now, tools such as “dialogue”, “negotiation”, “compromise”, and “concession” have no chance of success.

In addition, democracies are fragile, a veritable blip on the screen of recorded history. They must never be taken for granted. Weimar Germany was a freewheeling democracy from 1919 to 1933. It fell like a house of cards. Democracies must always be protected, lest they yield to tyranny.

Further, the United States maintained a position of neutrality until 1941. Had it chosen sides earlier, notwithstanding the strong isolationist lobby, could Hitler have been stopped before he ravaged Europe and annihilated two-thirds of European Jewry? Indeed, as former Secretary of State Madeleine Albright said, America is, and has long been, “the indispensable nation” in the global struggle for freedom and safety. That role cannot be abandoned.

And last but by no means least, there was no Israel at the time. What if there had been? How many Jews trapped and with nowhere to flee, because so many countries closed their doors, might have found refuge in a sovereign Jewish state? How many Entebbe-like missions could have been attempted to rescue Jews in peril? The case for Israel began millennia before the Holocaust. Its urgency was highlighted during the 12 years of the Third Reich.

Much as there is an absolute duty to remember – zahor, in Hebrew – memory alone cannot bring back the six million. Nor can it necessarily ensure the safety of the living.

Going forward, teaching the lessons of the Holocaust becomes ever more important, and, alas, ever more challenging.

​

David Harris is executive vice chair of the Institute for the Study of Global Antisemitism and Policy (ISGAP). He is the author of Antisemitism: What Everyone Needs to Know (Oxford University Press, 2025)